#my old tags were so funny but i have a terrible memory so I’m not even gonna try to redo the | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hisunshiine · 2 years

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—whims & inconsistencies | 1

→ posted: june 24, 2022

→ pairing: kim seokjin x poc!reader

→ genre/au: victorian era!au, pride&prejudice vibes, angst!!!, smut, fluff

→ chapter rating: PG-13

→ wordcount: 4.8k words

→ chapter warnings: mentions of misogyny, reader is an orphan, mentions of parents passing away, creepy old men, a lot of vulgar things implied, im sorry but maknae line are the villains :( and this is just the start.

→ credits: @hobeemin for the most amazing banner idea. @peachiilovesot7 you are the best beta reader i could ever ask for. thank you to @moonleeai, @heathfritiiiary, @a_bit_jess for the feedback on the prologue! I think it really helped make a difference.

→ an: i created a map! you can click the link below to see the city and help build the setting in your head the way that i see it! Updates will be weekly! If you would like to be on a tag list, please reply to this chapter or send an ask!

series masterlist map of Sonyeondan

The Jung residence is a large house located at the end of a row of other large houses in the Highgate district. Across the street, instead of another row of similar houses, is a large brick wall that outlines the town. Beyond the wall are large trees leading into a forest.

The home, two-stories, with a library, observatory, and a large hall for banquets and balls, is clearly the home of a well to do family. Hoseok’s father holds a well paying, top position with the local private school, overseeing the curriculum for the students, explaining the wealth of the dwelling. They greet you warmly, having just seen you at your graduation a month earlier, and Jiwoo shows you upstairs to your room while Namjoon and Hoseok catch up in the library.

Placing your violin case on your bed, you take in the spacious bedroom, curtains pulled open to show the afternoon sun spilling across the desk across from the window. An armoire to your left and a vanity to your right, there is ample space for you to get ready for each day, as well as practice each night.

Jiwoo pulls you from your thoughts.

“I am so excited that you are here now! I was able to talk my parents into postponing my debut a year so that we could have a joint one. Thought it would help reduce the pressure for you, and obviously it will mean ours will be the biggest and best party of the season.”

“Thanks, Jiwoo, I appreciate sharing the limelight. I can’t say I’m exactly happy for the end of my freedom,” you frown, opening the armoire and making note of what you will store in it.

“I don’t think being married will be so bad…my parents seem happy. Yours did too.”

The memory of your parents' marriage warms your heart a bit, reminding you that it was perfectly realistic to find a good suitor. You had some other worries though. Some that Jiwoo wouldn’t necessarily relate to.

“I know that it’s not terrible. I actually look forward to the thought of spending my life with someone who completes me, the way my father did my mother and vice versa. But my father was a foreigner, and I look…well, foreign.”

You glance at your reflection in the vanity, your unruly curls coming loose to frame your tan skin after the humidity latched onto it during the carriage ride. Your eyes, larger than was average in this monolithic country, are at least the same color as others: a warm coffee with a splash of cream that you were told drew people in on a cold day. Your frame, petite but curvier than typical, stands out, but you hope in a good way. You rather like how you look, but when you had attended boarding school you received your fair share of bullying for features that are out of your control.

“Please, YN, you are gorgeous! I wish my hair could curl the way yours does,” Jiwoo brushes a flyaway back to tuck behind your ear as she continues. “And your skin is so pretty, like my favorite caramel candies that we used to hide in our pillows and eat after we were supposed to be asleep.” You laugh at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” Hoseok asks from the doorway, Namjoon following him in with your luggage and boston bag.

“Oh, just telling YN how jealous I am that she will steal all of the best suitors during our debut ball with her luscious curls, beautiful skin, and hips—”

“Okay!” You interrupt, but that interruption is interrupted by Hoseok and Namjoon agreeing with Jiwoo.

“Yeah, already several of my friends have asked when you were debuting. They always see you when you visit on break from school and want to know more about you…”

“Even at school, guys would hang out in the practice room watching her play—”

“They wanted to hear me play!” you defend.

“Yeah, have you ever seen what you look like when you play? A goddess among us mere mortals, and there were only five women in the school! And Sunmi did not have a crowd when she played the flute.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab your Boston bag and begin to unpack it, pulling out a folded metal contraption that opens into a music stand for your compositions. Namjoon continues talking about you, making up stories, you’re sure.

“I actually don’t know if I want her to meet my brothers. She might decide she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore, or worse, she could end up marrying one of them.”

Ignoring him, you pull out the leather bound folder that holds the music sheets, hastily tucked away before boarding the train so that now loose papers with Yoongi’s cramped scrawl and Namjoon’s larger swirls flutter to the ground.

Jiwoo picks up the fallen sheets and hands them to you, and you place them on the stand.

“Are you about to practice right now? You just got off the train!”

“You can’t be a virtuoso violinist if you don’t practice!”

“At least have a light lunch first. Mother and father have prepared a small spread for us to enjoy.”

You allow Jiwoo to drag you away from your violin, case unopened on your bed and music sheets still against the stand.

Getting ready for the first party of the season was a whirlwind of a time. Jiwoo’s personal maids brought in a friend to work on your makeup and hair at her request. She had asked for two, but they had struggled to find someone who had any experience working with someone…foreign-looking. Your maid for the evening, Eunwoo, had previously worked in a different part of the country with a family that was similar to yours.

She’s quiet, but efficient; her hands move swiftly to section your wet curls and place several plaits that end halfway across your scalp and are pulled into hair ties. She saturates the bottom half of your hair, letting it remain loose as she teases a few curls to frame your face. Pretty, sheer lilac ribbons are the finishing touch as she winds them to cover the ties and pins them in place.

She turns your chair away from the mirror, and sets off to doll your face up and you relax as she moisturizes your skin before applying the various makeup palettes to your skin.

Walking arm in arm with Jiwoo, Hoseok following the two of you with his cheerful smile and noises he doesn’t even realize he’s making as he provides a soundtrack to your entrance, is terrifying. You had wanted to arrive earlier, but missing an extra set of hands made it difficult to dress you in the soft purple gown you chose for Nayeon’s debutante ball.

It fit your frame just so, and the criss-crossing satin strings along the back made it slightly hard to breathe with how tight they were laced. Luckily your legs had more freedom to move, since the dress cascades down to the floor, the silkiness of the material shimmering in the light with every step like a light violet waterfall.

Of course, you enter just as the music quiets, with dancers swapping on and off the dancefloor as the musicians turn the pages to a new song, and the door closes loudly behind you as you appear in the view of all of the guests.

Heads turn to face you, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, a tight smile overtaking your lips as you walk carefully down the few steps into the large parlor. Hoseok waves to a few friends and disappears into the crowd; you notice Namjoon in the group Hoseok is heading towards and you want to follow him, but Jiwoo steers you towards the hosts to greet them and tie a dance card around your wrist.

It’s easy to escape from Jiwoo once she is distracted by making pleasantries with Nayeon and her parents, but you entered a side hallway that is mostly abandoned as other party goers walk past you to go out the doors you just entered. Taking light steps in your kitten heeled shoes, you walk to the end of the hallway and see an opening back into the parlor. There’s a wooden table that is home to the largest bouquet of wildflowers, but nothing else blocks you from making your way to your giant of a best friend and cheerful housemate.

Stepping around the intricately carved circular table in the entryway, you attempt once again to head into the safety of your male friends. You are stopped, however, by a large man. His suit is a puke green color, and his teeth are crooked and yellowing as he leers down at you, the strong odor of tobacco emanating from his person.

“Ah, you must be the ward the Jung’s have taken in. I’m Park Jinyoung. You’ve probably heard of me. Or at least of my businesses. Will you allow me to sign your dance card? I saw you as soon as you made your entrance, and I hear that you're musically inclined…”

“Oh, um,” you startle at his abrupt introduction; the way he jumps around in his topics is dizzying. “Yes, I’m YN. And I’ve just moved here recently and haven’t had a chance to explore the area. I play the violin, so I practice several hours a day.”

“Yes, yes, girl, I know, I told you I heard you were musically inclined. Now, about your dance card, have you got spots left? I can fill it up for you if you want, and we can get to know one another better.”

You don’t like the way that his eyes stare at your chest as he talks. The sweetheart bust of your dress does a great job at accentuating your cleavage, but you had hoped to catch the eye of someone who was closer to your age, or at least could hide his boner a bit better!

“Darling, there you are!”

A friendly voice draws your attention from Park Jinyoung, and you feel like you can’t breathe. The most handsome man you have ever set your sight on is standing behind you, and he just called you darling?!

“You were looking for me?” You ask, unsure of his intent.

“Of course I was! You were supposed to wait for me by the other entryway, you must have gotten lost on your way back from the bathroom.”

“You are seeing this woman?”

“She is certainly in my sights right now.”

“I see. I was under the impression that she had not yet been approached by any suitors.”

Your head whips back and forth as you follow the conversation happening about you, but not including you. So you decide to join in, standing a bit taller.

“I haven’t been approached by any suitors. I have just met this man tonight, much like I have just met you, Mr. Park.”

The handsome man widens his eyes at you, as if signaling some secret message that you don’t comprehend, and Mr. Park smiles at you before turning towards the man.

“But you called her ‘darling’, that’s not a term of endearment one uses so…loosely, Kim Seokjin, unless you are acquainted in a rather unseemly way.”

You blink furiously at the suggestion that you have loose morals and were hiding in the hallway with this Kim Seokjin to be promiscuous. Seokjin steps into Jinyoung’s space, and you step back from the way the tension feels dangerous.

“It is but a way to address someone when you can’t remember their name, Mr. Park. Now let us all return to the parlor, lest people begin to think we are back here fighting over a woman. And I would remind you to bite your tongue when speaking of such matters in the presence of a lady.”

Butterflies fill your stomach at the way Seokjin defends your honor; he is younger than Park Jinyoung by many years, but his manner of speaking and the way he carries himself commands respect even above the elder in the room.

“Out of respect for your father, I will not smack that smart mouth like you deserve for speaking to me in such a way, but make it a habit and I will not hesitate, no matter the company we are in.”

Park Jinyoung turns on his heel and walks back into the parlor, leaving you alone with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry. I tried to save you from him, but he turned it into something it wasn’t. I promise if anyone says anything to try and compromise your honor, I will defend it. I’m Kim Seokjin, by the way.”

“YN…Thank you for standing up for me. He wanted to fill up my entire dance card, and I was just thinking of how I would escape it, when you appeared. So thanks again. I should go find my friends before we get caught back here alone.”

Seokjin reaches for your arm, stilling your movement from walking away.

“If I could, I would love to sign your dance card. If there is still space of course.” He smirks, and you can only nod as you extend your arm so he can scribble his name onto the last line.

“I’ll find you before the last song plays.”

You blink, and he’s gone, back into the crowd. Leaning onto the wall, you take several deep breaths. Get it together, girl! You think to yourself. You never get weak over a man, let’s not start now…now matter how beautiful his face is! Or how soft his lips look…

“Oh thank the gods, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Jiwoo appears in the hallway, moving quickly to your side. “It’s time to get some names on your dance card and spend the night being twirled around the room by handsome men!”

Jiwoo has a point, and there is already one handsome man penciled at the bottom of the list, saving the best for last.

There are lights glittering off of the chandeliers, sending dancing beams of rainbow light scattering across the walls. Your hair, bouncing as you twirl in the arms of one of the many suitors you have been dancing with tonight, is so unlike the other girls dancing in the room. You feel self-conscious, but you catch Seokjin’s gaze from where he stands across the room, and you no longer care. He smiles at you, as if there is just a secret the two of you share, and as the song playing ends, he takes a rather large gulp from his drink and sets it down, marching across the dancefloor to you.

“May I have this dance?”

You step towards him, curtsying briefly as you take your place in front of him and as the pianoforte and violins start to play, you raise your arms to his broad shoulders and his hands go to your waist. The hold is modest, exactly like you have practiced with friends and dance tutors, but his touch sets you alight. His shoulders under your hands heat your gloves, almost burning at the touch, but the goosebumps rising across your skin would make anyone think a cold flame spread through your veins.

You step forward as he steps back, movements in sync to the notes that play around you. The eye contact as his fingers draw you ever so closer to him causes you to shiver, and the smile on his lips is soft as he whispers, “are you cold, darling?” The term of endearment used is a reminder of how he saved you earlier.

“No, Mr. Kim. I am quite content.”

He spins you around, stepping apart before leading you back in closer than before as you spin across the dancefloor, weaving around the other dancers.

“I must say that makes me quite happy to hear that you are content in my arms.”

You can feel your cheeks warm under his twinkling gaze, and butterflies flutter when he winks at you. You remain in a state of bliss the rest of the song, and you are breathless once the song ends.

“I am quite parched, do you mind if we step off to get something to drink?” you ask, secretly needing to step away so that you may gather yourself after putting some space between your bodies.

“Yes, actually I see my brothers over by the refreshments, and I must remind the youngest one to behave himself accordingly.”

The two of you walk along the edge of the ballroom, making your way towards some familiar faces. Hoseok is standing with Namjoon, and a few other younger men are there as well, laughing loudly at a joke you missed.

“YN! Enjoying yourself?”

“Quite! It is a delightful ball, the first of many this season I presume, that I will enjoy myself at.”

“Namjoon, do you always speak so comfortably with women? We send you away to a music conservatory and you come back without any sense of respect?”

You laugh along with Namjoon at Seokjin’s scandalized expression.

“Oh, me and Namjoon are not strangers, Seokjin. This is one of my dearest friends from said music conservatory.”

“Ah, it seems you and my brother are also on close terms, YN, if you are already calling him Seokjin.”

You gasp, gloved hand covering your mouth as you realize. Kim Namjoon is the younger brother of Kim Seokjin. Namjoon’s eyes dance with humor at your realization, and he can no longer hold back his laughter when he makes eye contact with Hoseok. The laughter catches the attention of the other three men, who step closer to your circle of friends.

“Whatever is so funny, Joon?” The owner of the voice is tall, lean, and gorgeous. His hair falls around his face in a mess of waves, and despite his beauty, there is a coldness about him.

“Oh, Taehyung-ah, this is YN. She is one of the friends I graduated with and who I traveled home on the train with. She has just realized she danced around the room with our dearest elder brother.”

Our dearest elder brother. This man must be the younger brother of your best friend. Kim Taehyung. You have heard a little about Namjoon’s brothers, but not enough to realize you are surrounded by them.

“Ah, well, YN, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Taehyung extends his hand to you, and to be polite, you place your hand in his as he draws his lips to the back of your hand, a chaste kiss to the gloved skin. “We have heard so much about you from our dear Joonie-hyung.”

“Hopefully all good things!” You hate the way your voice sounds, trying not to feel nervous, but there is something about the youngest brother that is off-putting to you. His two friends flank him, both with beautiful smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. Of the two, the taller one's eyes rake across your body in a way that makes you feel naked, and the shorter one can’t seem to find your eyes amidst your chest as he introduces himself.

“I’m Park Jimin, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

You curtsy, if only to bring your face into his line of sight, and he smiles cheekily at you.

“Jeon Jungkook. You look stunning in that color.” His eyes continue to trace your figure, and when he finally makes eye contact, he is not the least bit embarrassed at being caught gawking at your figure. You feel that he quite enjoys knowing you know he was undressing you in a full room. The air is thick with uneasiness, and you are ready to relieve yourself of their presence.

“Well then, it was very nice to meet you all, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook. If you will excuse me, I’m going to grab a drink and see if Jiwoo is anywhere nearby.”

“I’ll come with you.” Seokjin steps behind you, following as you retreat from their end of the table and towards the refreshments at the other end, his hand on the small of your back guiding you through the crowd.

“Sorry about my brother, Taehyungie is a bit…much.”

“Oh, no worries, I was delighted to finally put a face to the men Namjoon speaks about all of the time. I’m kind of embarrassed that I did not realize that you are his older brother; you weren’t at his graduation ceremony.”

“Oh, yes, we had a family emergency come up, but now Namjoon is home, so we have plenty of time to celebrate his accomplishments.”

“An emergency? Namjoon didn’t mention anything…is everything alright now?”

“As all right as it can be, no need to worry. Oh, which drink would you like?” Seokjin expertly changes the topic away from his home life, but you are too parched to continue to needle. Pointing at the crystal bowl full of a light pink liquid, you accept the small cup he passes to you filled halfway with drink.

He turns away from the table once he’s poured his own cup with the salmon–colored drink, and you both gulp them down. The eye contact between you two causes both of you to laugh into your cups, Seokjin’s eyes twinkling with mischief as you turn away quickly to avoid spitting out your drink. Most unladylike behavior, but you have a feeling Seokjin would not care about such frivolous societal rules.

The next couple of hours are spent tucked into the corner, still visible to everyone, but in your own world; just you and Seokjin talking about everything and nothing. You haven’t felt a connection like this with anyone before, and the butterflies in your stomach let you know this is more than how you feel about Namjoon and Yoongi. No, what you are feeling towards Seokjin is anything but platonic companionship.

You watch the way his lips form words, the full pout alluring without him trying, and when he licks his lips, you fan your face with a gloved hand, pretending that the room is starting to feel stuffy. Like the gentleman he is, Seokjin asks if you would like to step outside to get some air. You nod, and he places his hand gently on your lower back, a shockwave of warmth traveling down your spine. You want to feel more of his touch on your body, not covered by clothes, and you feel the burn of your cheeks as he leads you towards Jiwoo.

“Jiwoo noona, can you please go with YN outside for some air? The stuffiness of the room has seemed to get to her, and she looks a bit flushed.”

Seokjin looks at you, but you turn your face away shyly, afraid he’ll realize it’s not the room, but his aura that has you so heated. Jiwoo escorts you to the back garden, and you sit on a bench with her while she looks at you knowingly. Under her scrutiny, you decide to come clean.

“Yes, I think the eldest Kim brother is rather…handsome.”

“Well, from the looks of it, he thinks you are quite the beauty as well. I have never seen him spend so much time talking to a woman at a party, let alone appearing to enjoy it. He’s usually with his friends…I guess he’s stepping into his role more now.”

Your eyebrows furrow, a confused look taking over your face. Jiwoo leans in conspiratorial-like as she begins to share.

“Seokjin is the eldest of the Kim family. Their father recently had inflammation of the heart of some sort, and he has been bed ridden since. The family missed Namjoon’s graduation because of it. Seokjin will take over as the head of the family if something happens to their father, but he hasn’t had to really face that thought until now.” Jiwoo shakes her head despondently. “Their father is really nice, and I always enjoyed when their family would come over for dinner. My mother used to host a sewing club with theirs and a few other women inside, and I can’t imagine how she would fair if something were to happen. I mean, Seokjin is super smart, so I am sure the family will be okay, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a widow.”

You nod slowly, taking in all of the information. This must be the emergency that Seokjin mentioned in passing. You wonder to yourself about his intentions tonight, spending so much time—publicly—with you, during your debuting season. Is he looking for a wife? Could you be a wife who sits in sewing clubs? Did you want to be? The two of you stand, ready to head back inside, when Jiwoo lets out a sigh and pulls you from your thoughts as the three younger men from earlier approach the two of you.

“Jiwoo, how lovely to see you again.”

The two friends step towards Jiwoo, flanking either side of her as they enter into her space. You can see how uncomfortable it is for her as they squeeze their bodies between the two of you, Jungkook separating her from you as Taehyung approaches your other side.

“Well, my brothers sure have a type. One befriends you at school and the other can’t take his eyes off you since you’ve met tonight.” Taehyung leans down, voice lowering as he brings his breath to your ear. “You’ve got all three of the Kim brother’s attention, but I’d love to have a sample before my eldest brother does.”

A gasp is pulled from your throat at the lewd idea he propositions you with, and you feel the same way you did when Mr. Park had cornered you earlier: slimy.

“I am not anyone’s plaything to be sampled.” Your voice is curt, slicing through the sleaze of his implications.

“But you look like so much fun to play with, YN. I promise I won’t tell Seokjinnie hyung if I get to see under those skirts of yours before he does.”

You step back, appalled that Taehyung could speak to you so vulgarly and also be related to one of your best friends and your savior from earlier in the night. It was as if the latter two were cut from a different cloth. Maybe he was a different material altogether.

The step you took brought your backside into Jungkook, who turns away from whatever lewd words he and Jimin are spewing lowly at Jiwoo, and it is enough for you to reach for her and make your escape.

Instead of returning to the party, you and Jiwoo silently agree it is best for the two of you to leave, bypassing the opening to return to the main floor and instead turning to exit the house and swiftly walk to the row of carriages lining the street. The Jung’s footman jumps down from where he’s sat, patiently awaiting your return. You remember after Jiwoo has climbed in that Hoseok rode with you to the party.

“Should I go grab Hoseok?”

“Damn it,” Jiwoo intones, and hearing her curse lightens the mood a tiny bit.

“I’ll be quick and I won’t stop for anyone, and I won’t walk out unless Hoseok or Joonie is accompanying me.”

Jiwoo nods and you retrace your steps, keeping your head down so that no one tries to speak to you in your haste. Luckily, Hoseok is in plain sight, standing with Seokjin near the refreshments table.

“Hoseok, Jiwoo and I are ready to go, as it is getting quite late. She’s already in the carriage.”

“Late?”

The look you give him trumps his incredulous one, as the party has thinned out and despite time being seemingly halted, it is nearing midnight. He glances around the room, eyes observing the large clock with both hands pointing towards the upper half of the circle.

“Yes, you’re right of course. Seokjin hyung, I must bid you farewell and get these ladies home. Can you escort YN to the carriage? I’m going to visit the lavatory before I join them.”

“Of course, it’s no issue to see her safely.”

Proffering his arm, you place yours atop his and walk with Seokjin out of the house. As the two of you approach the carriage, he slows his gait, turning slightly to you.

“Could I, perhaps,” he starts, voice a little higher than earlier, “call on you at the Jung’s residence?”

You’re sure that if there were no lamps to dimly light the street for the partygoers that your smile would have lit the street up as if it was daylight. Seokjin is sure that were it daylight, you would have seen the way his ears are a bright red as he waits for your reply.

“I would love that.”

series masterlist —thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! see you next week!!

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deus-ex-mona · 2 years

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i hope y’all had a great weekend!!!

i say, rambling about my strangely unrestful weekend under the cut because i have no friends to hear me out lmaooo

i’m only rambling here because the character limit in the tags is really annoying, and also because i really wanna remember all of the weird ideas that i threw out for my room planning in spite of my innately terrible memory, so here goes—

so, saturday! a day of rest for many, just a regular day at work for me :( but the one good thing about going to work yesterday is that i finally managed to eat this one specific food item that i’d been craving lmaooo.

on friday, this coworker dude offered to buy me (and everyone else too, really) some food to “celebrate” the weekend i guess? so i just told him that i wanted that food item (only because i’m unable to find it easily and stuff :(), and the dude actually managed to get it for me!!! granted, he bought it from a different country on his way to work, but still!!! the best part is that when the price of the stuff he bought was converted to local currency, the food came out to being literally 10 cents apiece, which was pretty funny ngl.

also, i got to hear some pretty 👀👀👀worthy work gossip, so that was fun~

and then came today. aka sunday!!!!

i found out that the apartment that my family and i would be moving into was almost ready(!!!!) and that i’d finally be getting my own room(!!!!!!!!).

so, naturally, i dragged my mother down to the apartment with me (despite her literally just coming back from visiting it with my brother) and took a gander for myself.

apart from my tiny room, the place was kinda insane ngl. they had some kind of built-in pulley system(????) for the overhead laundry rack, which you have to lower by yourself to hang your stuff on.

and also!!!! there seems to be sinks installed in the tank of the toilet bowl??? just look at it yo

that’s definitely a sink, right?

it befuddles me to no end… i asked my mother what it’s for, and she told me that i could gargle my mouth there, so that was rather unhelpful. ಠ‿ಠ

and after that, i dragged my mother off to ikea to look at the showrooms and stuff for ✨inspiration✨ and inspiration did strike!!! i managed to get great ideas about to how to maximise my space in my tiny room and even made weird doodles to illustrate my vision for posterity!!! hint: ✨shelves✨. tons of shelves!!

…but sadly, my mother rejected my suggestion of skipping the dining table entirely to attach a huge shelf to the wall instead, so we could eat like we’re at a noodle bar :( sads. home noodle bars could definitely be a thing, right?

but in the end, i guess i’ll end up missing this current tiny temporary apartment that i’ve been staying at for the past few years… i’ll definitely miss the wild chicken family that lives at the ground floor though… despite how noisy the rooster is… but oh well! life has to go on, right? may the rooster terrorise the next inhabitants of this temporary flat as well…

but aside from that, i’m definitely not looking forward to dealing with my storaged nonsense, especially my love live merch collection from ages ago. i don’t even like love live anymore, man… what the heck was past me thinking?

aaaa i hope no bugs got into my pokespe manga though… those were my treasures for sure. maaan do i have so many memories of writing/drawing bad fanfiction for pokespe. and also of n harmonia. my former friend and i obsessed over the poor dude for ages. we drew so much bad fanart of him, turned him into a frog hybrid of sorts, and even made small replicas of his waist cube during class one day… man, now i feel old lmao

sorry if you read this~! uhhhhh happy sunday (if it still sunday for you)!!!!

#warning for a very long and incomprehensible rambling session!!!!#though… it’s a wonder that i haven’t fully snapped to start posting about another fandom or such on this so-called blog…#y’all would have such a terrible time if i posted about each and every single one of my fleeting interests lollllll #i bounce through interests like how a bouncy ball bounces when it’s dropped from a height…#but then again this post has nothing to do with my other interests. it’s just me blathering about my weekend. idk why i even mentioned this…#inedible blubbering

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shyshitter · 3 years

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we deserve human cas walking around the bunker with no shirt

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ecliptsukki · 3 years

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his delinquent phase ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki // cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff

➣ warnings: adam’s existence

➣ request: can i request a one shot where you’re cherrys s/o and like childhood best friends with joe and cherry and adam and you’re gushing over cherrys old bad boy look with piercings and everuthing and cherry one day goes to S with his piercings and hair the same way as before just to see you fawn over him skjfks

➣ a/n: this took me three times to type up because the first two times i did it, tumblr thought it would be funny to delete it. i’m not sure if i love how this came out, but it’s still better than my original plan. hopefully this was correct to what the anon requested. enjoy!

ps: i’m also going to be going on a trip for four days tomorrow, so i’m not sure if i’ll be able to post. i’ll definitely try to start working on my other requests!

You had known Joe, Cherry, and Adam ever since the four of you were in high school. Out of the three, you had met Joe, first, not soon before you met Cherry.

You were walking down the eventful streets of Okinawa, admiring the sights and getting accustomed with the area. You had moved to the city not too long ago and already were growing attached to the place. In your defense, the city was your perfect and desired location to live in.

A gentle breeze blew through your hair, rustling the leaves of the green trees. You sighed at the feeling of the cool breeze tickling your warm skin. Not long after that breeze had gone, another, harsher breeze blew past you. You flinched at the abnormally sharp wind, snapping your head to the side, in its direction. You were met with honey red eyes and short, green locks, swaying.

The male slips past you, stopping abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, embarrassed, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You were in awe, seeing what the boy was standing on, and on alert because you had always been taught to be cautious around strangers, especially when you were walking alone.

“Um, no. I’m alright, just shocked,” you shrugged, replying quietly.

Another harsh, but gentler than before, wind blows past you, revealing a pink-haired male. He had three piercings on his ear and one on his lip. Half of the boy’s face was hidden by his long bangs, allowing your focus to lock on his golden eye.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps at his green-haired friend. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes, giving you a polite smile.

All the sirens were going off in your head.

He has so many piercings! Is he a delinquent? Are both of them delinquents? If they are, I can’t fight them off on my own. What do I do?

“I’m Kaoru,” the bubblegum-haired male suddenly said, “This is Kojiro.”

Kojiro nodded at you, an embarrassed blush still grazing his cheeks.

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid?” Kaoru asked, finding your puzzlingly familiar.

“Oh, that’s why I felt like I’ve met you before,” Kojiro spoke up, nodding his head when he realized who you were.

Awkwardly, you shyly respond, “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember seeing you guys at school. Are you in my class?”

Until dusk, the three of you talked, getting to know the each of you better. You were also able to befriend the boys you were so afraid of, becoming your first two friends in the city.

You met Adam in the dark of night, beside Cherry and Joe.

They had brought you along, one night, wanting to skate with you. You already knew the basics of skating, nothing more, nothing less. Therefore, as your closest, and only, friends, they wanted to get further acquainted with you in something they loved.

“Who’s the sweet cheeks?” His hoodie-covered eyes left an eerie pressure on you, causing goosebumps to emerge from your skin.

“This is our close friend, Y/N L/N,” Cherry spoke up.

“She goes to school with us, and we wanted to bring her skating. Mind her tagging along?” Joe asks his hooded friend.

“Not at all, just as long as she can keep up,” he spoke in a cocky tone.

The pretentious attitude the unnamed face had was irking you in the wrong way. He seemed too mysterious for your liking. A third of the boy’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, leaving you only able to see the blue tips of his hair and his structured nose.

He must’ve noticed your timid stare because he looks at you, under his hood, “Call me Adam.”

Cherry and Joe look at you expectingly.

“Just call me sweet cheeks, for now,” you reply, distantly, not ready to let your guard down just yet.

You hear your two friends sigh, chuckling to each other.

“Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you, soon,” Cherry told Adam, “We know firsthand how she is with meeting new people.”

You blush, remembering your first encounter with the pair.

Thinking back, you still regret letting your walls down and accepting Adam as a friend. Not a day goes by that Adam doesn’t linger in your mind, as much as you’d hate to admit.

You despise that man with a passion. From your first interaction, you should’ve known that there was something off about the blue-haired male, but pondering on these frustrations now wouldn’t change anything. As much as you’d like to curse the man for hurting your friends’ and your feelings, you knew you had to move on.

You sat on the soft mattress of your shared bed, scrolling through old pictures stored on your phone. You saw pictures taken by Kaoru when you guys went on dates. Majority of the photos were candid, seeing as he always had told you that you were the “most photogenic woman” he had ever met.

You remember the day he had told you that. You also remember your laughed reply.

“Then you’ve got the whole world to explore, my love.”

Although, honestly, you thought Kaoru was quite the photogenic one himself. His gorgeous, sorted, pink hair matched with his golden eyes and perfect face never looked bad, not even at the crack of dawn or in the late of night.

Speaking of which, you scrolled upon a photograph of Kaoru sitting all pretty with his piercings on display. Those piercings brought back many memories, humorous and lustful.

Ironically, the thing that brought you fear before now brings you yearning.

Honestly, once you had befriended Kaoru and came to trust him, the piercings no longer frightened you but instead, fascinated you. Those metal hoops further increased your attraction to the ponytailed man, leading you to the relationship you were in now.

Obviously, Kojiro played a big role in setting the two of you up together because both of you were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings. It got to the point that Adam almost had to step in and wack some sense into the both of you.

Anyways, ever since Kaoru had started working in the calligraphy business, he removed his piercings to maintain a professional image. You detested the idea, but you also knew that it was the best for his business.

Now that you were looking back at photos of Kaoru as a teenager, you began to crave seeing him in those metal rings once more. You missed the “bad boy” look your boyfriend used to have, not that you didn’t appreciate how he looked now. It’s just that there’s a different vibe to his current and past aesthetics.

As you stalked through more pictures of teenage Kaoru, you were unaware of the very man you were thinking about watching you. He noticed the longing and craving in your gaze. Then, he caught a glimpse of what was being projected on your screen: it was him but in his teenage years.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Kaoru, and he had the perfect plan in mind.

Something was off. Usually your boyfriend would insist on bringing you to “S” himself but not today. If anything, he was urging you to go with Kojiro.

“He’s been your friend for the same amount of time as I. You should take this time to your advantage and catch up,” was Kaoru’s excuse.

First of all, catch up on what? It’s not like you haven’t talked to Kojiro in months. Actually, you talked to him a day ago, at “S.” Secondly, what’s up with the sudden lenience and weak excuses?

Joe, who was also in on the plan, tried to help his friend out, making a feeble attempt to lure you with free food.

“I can get free food from you whenever I want,” you replied, squinting suspiciously at your friend.

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” That pulled a raised brow from you and a regret-filled face from the muscular man.

Though you weren’t fully convinced that nothing was off, you still left with Joe, caving into their terrible attempts of covering up whatever they were hiding from you.

You had arrived at “S” with Joe for about ten minutes now, but there was still no sightings of your beloved, Cherry. Joe caught glimpse of your searching eyes and reassured you that he would be coming, be it later than usual.

Reki, Langa, and Miya had made their way over to you, sparking up a conversation with you, making you forget about the missing presence of a specific male.

Miya was explaining the new training regiment and diet he was to use in order to advance his strength, leading you to worry for the small teenager. If he didn’t eat enough, it could become fatal to him. You didn’t understand why a child was being treated so harshly by his managers, forcing him to eat barely anything and train long hours of the day.

You were concernedly asking Miya if he was feeling alright and offered him an energy bar you carried around in case of emergencies, which he gratefully accepted, when you heard the cheers of fangirls behind you. Knowing they weren’t meant for Joe, you turned around to meet the golden eyes you’d fallen in love with.

This time, there was something different. His face wasn’t hidden by his mask. You could see the pale skin of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. Besides the absence of the black cloth, you noticed metallic rings decorating your boyfriend’s lip and ears. Also, his hair wasn’t whipping behind him, as per usual, but laid low, drifting in the wind.

For a hot moment, you had thought you had finally lost it, but when you blinked your eyes, looking at Miya then back to Cherry, you realized you were still sane and your boyfriend still looked like he aged back into his high school days.

“Is that Cherry?” Miya asked from beside you.

You nodded, speechless.

You heard someone let out a loud laugh beside you, “Since when did he have piercings?”

Ignoring the redhead’s outburst, you were mesmerized by the Cherry you had been obsessing over a couple days ago. It felt like one extravagant dream that you didn’t want to wake up from. In your defense, as he stepped of his skateboard, coming to embrace you, he looked straight out of a fantasy. His skin was practically glowing, and his hair gently floated perfectly onto his shoulders.

“Hello, darling,” he spoke in a sultry voice, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you in his muscular arms.

“K-Kao—” you quickly realize your soon-to-be mistake and fix it, “Cherry.”

His eyes shrink as he laughs, endearingly, admiring the flustered and confused look you were portraying.

“Is this why you and Joe were being so weird earlier today?” You asked, cheek pressed against his slim, toned chest.

“Indeed, my love. What do you think? Definitely brings back some memories of the old days,” he lifts your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” you smile brightly, eyes lustrous. Pushing yourself up on your toes, you whisper into his ear, “You also look really hot.” You quickly pull away, turning a vibrant red.

“I think you broke her,” Joe told his friend, placing a heavy hand on the pink-nette’s shoulder.

After the supposed one occurrence surprise, you began to avidly ask him to wear his piercings, loving how attractive and domineering he looked in them. If he denied, you would ask him to, at least, tie his hair in the relaxed half up half down hairdo. He didn’t mind the different hairstyle as much as he did the piercings so it became a normal look for him. The only times he would willingly put on his piercings were when he was going to “S” or when the two of you were safe in the comfort of your own home, for research purposes.

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chilligyu · 3 years

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info: lee jihoon/gender neutral reader, pg, best friends to lovers au genre: fluff, romance | word ct: 5.5k warnings: none summary: when it came to love, no one was prepared. not even jihoon, who could spend hours turning words into magic, especially when love was mysteriously delivered in the form of a letter to his locker. note: heavily inspired by to all the boys I've loved before, but with a twist! no love triangles or anything like that, so just enjoy awkward people falling in love! and thank you to @dreamystuffers and @starlightjoong for taking a sneak peek and telling me what you think!

tagging: @xfirebenderx, @moriiyun, @ohmygoshcheese, @gyu-log

Lee Jihoon, a genius in many ways, was never good when it came to words. At least, not the spoken kind. The kind that you had to think up on the spot, responses, answers, comebacks, small talk, he was absolutely terrible at it. But if you gave him the time to think, to really dwell on his thoughts, he could create something truly beautiful. Which was why he preferred to express his feelings with letters. And while, yes, he could pen something magnificent, the next great classic novel perhaps, he typically kept his messages short and to the point. Much like the man himself.

There was one time that he wrote a “letter” that was simply—

F U C K Y O U

—printed out on seven separate sheets of paper and taped to a row of lockers. All in response to a teacher confiscating his iPod. No one could prove it was him, though, and nothing happened in response to it. He never admitted to his crimes, and despite it being painfully obvious who the author of the message was, there was no hard proof pointing to the culprit. It became the most well-known secret at their high school. And Lee Jihoon became somewhat of a living legend because of it.

The only one who knew the truth was you. His best friend. You were his go-to when it came to proof reading all of his letters. He was the writer, you were the editor. Half the time you were also a berating parent, chastising him for trying to assault people with words. Which was also why, more often than not, his letters never got sent. He would sit in his room for hours, writing letters that were either half the length of novels or only a few sentences long, and after giving it over to be edited, it would get tucked away in his desk drawer. Never to be seen or heard from again.

See, Jihoon was an emotional person. Not in the sense that most people would assume, he didn’t get offended easily, one mean comment wouldn’t leave him crying, he was simply—emotional. Whatever he was feeling, whether it be good or bad, it was powerful, sometimes overwhelming. So instead of erupting like a hormonal volcano, which he had already done plenty of, he put his emotions to paper. At the behest of his aforementioned best friend.

“You can’t go around yelling at people.” You began one afternoon just after entering high school. “Even if you’re writing it down, you’re still yelling at people.”

Jihoon, the definition of “hard to read”, was visibly pouting. “You’re the one who told me to write down how I feel. Now I can’t even send these to anyone?”

“I mean, you can.” You backpedalled. “I’m not your mother, despite Seokmin’s insistence. I can’t stop you from doing anything you’ve set your heart to. All I can do is advise you not to because you’re going to have a terrible few years here if everyone hates you.”

He clearly wasn’t thrilled by your logical response, but he admitted defeat anyway. “Fine. Don’t send the letters that I write. I get it. No one wants to read them.”

You groaned loudly. “You are so dramatic. I’m saying don’t send the literal hate mail to people. Don’t send the stuff you write to vent out your feelings. But if there’s something you want to say to someone, something that you can’t bring yourself to say out loud, by all means! Send the thing! I know you loathe the idea of talking to people, you also hate being misunderstood more.”

He also hated how well you knew him, not that he would ever say that out loud.

That was also something he wrote down in a letter, one he decided to send.

You crumpled it up immediately and threw it back at his face.

“Letters are powerful things, Jihoon.” You added. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives with nothing more than words. Because words mean so many different things to so many different people. You just gotta say the right ones.”

At first, he was only humoring you. Honestly, he thought you completely senile until he gave it a shot. After spending hours hunched over his desk writing things no one else would see, he was starting to realize that maybe you had a point. Instead of roaming the halls shouting obscenities in his head, he was able to reassure himself by knowing he could write about it later. Even the smallest grievance, he would write it down. He would sometimes scribble it down on the margin of a textbook if he was feeling particularly overwhelmed in the middle of the day.

The letters became his therapy, his outlet, eventually he could stroll past some annoying upperclassmen and not feel rage coursing through his veins. It was—nice, almost. Not being subjected to his own hectic imagination at every turn. Feeling at peace for the first time in what felt like ages.

Until he found a letter in his locker, one addressed to him during his senior year. From a secret admirer. The contents of which would be seared into his memory for the remainder of time.

Lee Jihoon, it began.

I have never been able to tell you how I feel, in person or in a letter. For several months now, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to write letters like you for so long, and I just can’t get the words right. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m going to do something different. I’m going to stop being scared. If you meet me in the courtyard after school, I’m going to be brave for the first time in my life. Please help me be brave, Jihoon.

Again and again, he read that short letter. Practically baffled that someone out there wrote an honest-to-god letter that was addressed to an honest-to-god person. And that he wasn’t the writer, that he was the recipient. The thought alone made his heart race, and to comprehend that this secret admirer perhaps harbored feelings towards him? It was next to impossible. But no one writes a letter without true emotion behind it. That’s a fact he was coming to understand.

“I need you to come with me.” He told you after showing you the letter. “I’m—I’m not sure I can do this alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jihoon, obviously this person doesn’t want to make a public event out of their confession. You should really do this without me.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to stand at my side or anything.” He reiterated. “Can you like—stand in a bush or something? If I know that you’re there I won’t feel the need to—"

“Did you just ask me to stand in a bush?” You guffawed. “You did not just ask me to stand in a bush Lee Jihoon because if you did then you’re about to get your ass kicked into next year!”

“I didn’t mean literally!” He quickly denied when he did, in fact, mean it literally. “Just—stand around the corner, okay? Be my moral support!”

Pursing your lips, you knew that there was no getting out of this. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you. But I’m not happy about it.”

“I’ll pay you back, I promise.” He swore. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

A smirk teased at your lips. “You could mention it more.”

“Consider it done.” Jihoon grinned, gathering up his things and heading for the door. “Don’t forget! After school! Courtyard! Don’t be late!”

Once he was gone and you were completely alone, your face fell in disappointment. “I wouldn’t dream of it…”

By the time that school was finally over for the day, Jihoon was a bundle of overactive nerves. He was excited and terrified and anxious and nauseous all at once. The bombarding sensations kept him cemented in place, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles were about to burst through. He had been like that for the entirety of their last class, still as a statue as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. You were standing in front of him, head tilted and wondering what he was planning to do next.

“Class is over.” You reminded him. “Everyone’s left.”

Very slowly, he nodded. “Y-yeah. I can see that.”

His voice sounded as if it had been completely stripped down. Like he had screamed himself hoarse by saying those few words.

“Your secret admirer is probably waiting.” You tried to spur him. “We should get going before I change my mind and head home.”

He audibly swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Well—maybe that’s best. Yeah, I can wait until tomorrow.”

You eyed him incredulously. “You’re going to stay here until tomorrow. You’re insane, get up.”

“I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not grow old and die here.” You countered. “C’mon, Jihoon. Your admirer asked you to help them be brave, how exactly is this helping them?”

He had to admit, you had a point. If they were brave enough to put their feelings out there, he had to at least meet them half way.

Sighing loudly, he started to pry his fingers off his desk. “Alright, fine. We’ll do things your way.”

You rolled your eyes for perhaps the hundredth time. “You’re absolutely insufferable. Why do I hang out with you?”

“Because I’m funny.” He said with the most serious face in the world.

Which actually made you laugh.

“I hate you.” You chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get going while we’re still young.”

Jihoon inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself down.

This is just the beginning.

Except—it wasn’t.

He stood in the courtyard, seemingly alone, with the note that brought him there clutched tight in his hand. As his moral support you were keeping your distance, as promised, but no one else joined you. Minutes passed and he did his best to remain hopeful. It was hard, especially when a familiar voice nagged at the back of his mind. The same one he struggled with every day to ignore.

No one would ever like you, so why did you bother thinking otherwise?

While the negative thoughts slowly took over, Jihoon didn’t know what to do next. He was defeated, almost destroyed. And even though you walked up behind him and took his hand in yours, it did little to stop the bitter tears from welling in his eyes.

“I should’ve known…” He whispered angrily. “This was all just—a joke. It’s always a joke. Who could ever like me?”

“Stop it, Jihoon.” You hissed at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “They said they were scared, maybe they couldn’t follow through with it. Maybe they were afraid of being rejected. You never know what’s going through someone’s head. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

Nothing you said was going to make him feel better. He quickly wrenched himself from your grip and backed away from you.

“I’m going home.” He clipped. “Bye.”

Before he left, he made sure to crumple up the note and toss it at your feet. When his heart was broken, he wore it on his sleeve. You understood what Jihoon was feeling, he had been living with an extremely low self esteem due to his height and his general inability to make friends for as long as you knew him. He was quiet, shy, reserved, he was slow to open up to others and hesitant to trust. That’s why you tried to be excited for him, and now that things hadn’t gone as planned in more ways than one your heart ached just like his.

The next day, Jihoon strolled into class like a drunk zombie. By the looks of him, he hadn’t slept a wink. Too busy being destroyed by his own thoughts to bother with anything like sustenance or sleep. He took up his seat beside you, and you immediately shoved your desk into his.

“Still upset?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Sluggishly he lifted his head up and then quickly dropped it back down.

It was worse than you thought.

“Are you going to talk to me today?” You teased in an attempt to get a reaction. “Or am I going to have to go bother Hansol?”

Grumbling slightly, the barely responsive mass that was your best friend raised his hand and dropped a crumpled wad of paper on your desk. At first, you assumed it was just another one of his letters. They weren’t uncommon when he was feeling—unwell.

But it was another note from his secret admirer.

You were startled because he didn’t usually stop at his locker in the morning.

Lee Jihoon, it started similarly.

I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday, I was scared. I couldn’t bring myself to face you, please don’t be mad at me. I’d like to keep writing you letters, if that’s okay. Let’s get to know each other and maybe one day I can be brave again.

Once you were finished reading, you immediately began analyzing Jihoon’s face again. You had never seen him look like this before, completely vacant. While he was hard to read to the entire world, he was always an open book to you. Now reading him was nearly impossible even with your expertise.

“What are you gonna do?”

He shrugged lazily. “I don’t know. Sit here for the rest of eternity. Wait for the soft embrace of death.”

“Jihoon.” You exasperated. “We both know you’re not actually going to do that.”

Except he actually might and you actually couldn’t take that chance.

“Are you going to write them a letter?” You tried, again. “Maybe that will work out better.”

“I already did.” He murmured. “I don’t think they want to read it though.”

“Jesus Christ…” You groaned loudly, taking Jihoon’s face in your hands and looking him dead in his lifeless eyes. “They still like you, they’re scared and human like the rest of us, it is not the end of the world! Give them another chance and stop being such a goddamn drama queen!”

Silence. Pure unadulterated and perfectly aggravating silence.

“Alright, you leave me no choice. I’m bringing out the big guns.”

Being careful to keep an eye on the teacher, you pulled out your phone and started texting Jihoon’s mother. According to your message, you and Jihoon were going to be studying late at the library, and he would probably need to spend the night at your house. Which wasn’t a complete lie, maybe you would get some studying done. But, in all honesty, you had other things in mind.

“Take your pick.” You instructed, a box set in each hand. “Descendants of the Sun, or Record of Youth.”

Immediately after school, you dragged your best friend to your house and sat him down in front of the TV. Your parents didn’t even question it when you told them this intervention was a matter of life and death, that the patient might need to be admitted for the night. They simply let you do what needed to be done.

Jihoon, who had been relatively catatonic for the past 24 hours, finally showed a glimmer of something. He gave the slightest suggestion of a nod towards Descendants of the Sun and you happily popped in the first disk. As you claimed a spot beside him, popcorn and banana milk in tow, he naturally relaxed against you. You were the only person who got to see him unguarded like that, the only person he himself would allow. And while he was typically someone who kept his true self hidden from the world, there was a part of him that would forever belong only to you.

“Thanks.” He practically whispered, resting his head on your shoulder. “I—I needed this.”

“I know.” You smiled. “Are you ready to talk yet?”

He sighed heavily. “No. Not really. I still have a lot of thinking to do.”

“Well, if you need help thinking you know where I’ll be.” You offered without wanting to seem pushy.

If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn he actually chuckled.

“Yeah. I do.”

Little by little, your best friend was slowly returning to normal—or as close to normal as you’ve ever seen him. Eventually he started getting sucked into the drama, going rigid when things got tense, and actively pretended he wasn’t crying whenever You Are My Everything played. It was, overall, a job well done. You could sleep easy knowing that Jihoon would be just fine. As you drifted off, you felt him hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Everything was going to be okay.

And if only to prove that point, the next day was nothing like the one before. Jihoon was back to his old self as if nothing had happened at all. Just another Thursday without a word or whisper about the chaotic tornado his secret admirer had unleashed onto your day-to-day life. He even had a letter for you to read by the time lunch rolled around. Apparently, some freshman irritated him over something seemingly small. At least—to you it seemed barely worth mentioning. But nothing ever really felt small to Jihoon. It was all or nothing, always living in black and white. Which meant that almost everything was important to him in some way. So you read the letter, and you edited it gladly.

Once you were done, he had something else for you. Another note from the admirer.

“This is the third one, right?” You murmured, glancing it over once before looking up at him. “Have you written back yet? Besides the one where I assumed you insulted their very existence with your entire arsenal of hurtful words.”

The blush crawling up his neck was an answer in and of itself, but the thick stack of paper he pulled out of his backpack solidified it.

“I’ve tried a few times.” He admitted hesitantly. “Nothing I write is good enough.”

“Oh, only a few times?” You teased, knowing full well that Jihoon’s definition of a few was the same as calling Jane Eyre a short shopping list. “What’s got you so stuck? Usually you have no issues penning essays over trivial things like cracks in the sidewalk.”

His brow furrowed defiantly. “Hey, proper sidewalk and road maintenance is important to modern infrastructure. If we start overlooking cracks in the pavement, then what? What about traffic lights? Can we afford to allow a single bulb to go out? No, of course not. That’s anarchy.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Jihoon…” You started with an exasperated look. “I was joking.”

Trying to hide the fact that his blush was turning a deep crimson, and failing quite miserably, he pulled a paper from the stack and put it back in his bag. Also something he tried, and failed, to hide from you.

“Are you kidding me!” You laughed, raking a hand down your face. “Did you seriously have a letter in that pile you were going to send to our congressman?”

“No—yes—ugh!” He groaned. “Can we forget about the stupid sidewalk for a second! That’s not important right now! Help me! How do I do this?”

Deciding you had teased your best friend enough, you placed your chin in your hand and smiled at him. “How do you do what, exactly? I’ve never had anything to do with the letters you write, I just read them so someone knows how you’re feeling.”

Who were you kidding, you could never tease Jihoon enough.

He rolled his eyes so hard that he rolled his whole head with them. “Like you’ve ever needed further insight into my head, you always know what I’m thinking before I do.”

True.

“But I don’t understand the first thing about—this.” He finished with a labored sigh, gesturing sharply to the handwritten novel in front of him. “You know that better than anyone.”

Again, he was telling the truth. In the years you had known Jihoon he had never developed serious feelings towards someone else. He had barely entertained the notion since entering high school. He always talked himself out of it because feelings were complicated and bothersome. Plus, he was terrified of being rejected. Like most people are. His intrusive thoughts just so happened to be louder than most.

“I hate to break it to you, Jihoon,” You started in a whisper, “no one knows the first thing about this. Not even me. The only person who can help you is yourself.”

His sour expression made it obvious that he obviously didn’t like your response. “Great. Super helpful. Thank you for your continued wisdom.”

When he moved away from you, you grabbed him by the sweater and pulled him back in. “Why do you always stop listening to me when I’m about to make my point?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Because it takes you forever to fucking get there.”

“Alright, you got me there.” You chuckled. “Listen, I’m not kidding when I say that you’ve got to do this one on your own. As much as I can usually sense what feelings are doing somersaults in your stomach, this is a first for you and therefore a first for me. I’ve never seen you like this before, so unfortunately you’ve got to discover this one on your own.”

As you spoke, his features slowly softened until all that remained was a very nervous teenager who didn’t want to screw up his first real chance at love. That’s all Jihoon was at his core, that’s all anyone was.

But you had to admit he almost looked kind of cute.

Almost.

“How do you always know what to say?” He grumbled while crossing his arms. “It’s annoying.”

“You’ve got a really weird way of saying thank you.” You smirked playfully. “Well, maybe this last nugget of advice will get you started in the right direction.”

“Why are you always—” He seethed through his teeth. “How are you still not at whatever your point is!”

You shrugged, because you honestly had no clue. “I'll get there when I get there. You want to hear it or not—”

“Spit. It. Out.”

“Now is that anyway to—”

Wow. You stopped, suddenly fearing for your measly life. If looks could kill—

“Alright, alright, you win.” You conceded. “If you’re having issues writing a letter to your secret admirer, here’s my advice. Stop trying to put words to your feelings and start putting feelings into words. You’re spending too much time trying to say it perfectly that you’re not saying it at all. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else, it doesn’t even need to make sense to you. So long as you put them out into the world, they’ll be heard and one day they’ll be understood. You get me?”

The look on his face was—strange. You had a hard time placing it, which should’ve been weirder than it was. In fact, you were seeing lots of different sides to Jihoon lately, sides you never thought existed. This time his eyes widened, the aforementioned scarlet blush had disappeared, and there was a radiance to him that you had never seen before. Like suddenly he could see clearly through the storm of his thoughts.

“Thank you.” He exhaled with a smile. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

Feeling triumphant, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m starting to wonder what you’d do without me, Jihoon. Three days and you’ve been completely undone and redone by this letter.”

“Letters are powerful things.” He muttered. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives. You taught me that.”

“I guess I’m a pretty good teacher.” You boasted, giving him a squeeze. “Despite the fact that I’m actually quite terrible with words.”

He shrugged off your arm. “Except you always know what to say, how exactly does that work?”

“Just because I can make you see reason doesn’t mean I’m good with words.” You laughed easily. “That simply means that I’ve perfected the art of understanding the impossible. Lee Jihoon. I can’t use words like you do. Trust me I’ve tried, I can never get the words right.”

For a moment, he didn’t have any sort of response. Which was definitely weird. It was a well-known fact that he was terrible with the sorts of words he had to speak, but he didn’t have issues when talking to you. That’s because you were friends, best friends. There had never been this sort of unnerving silence before. Not that you could remember, anyway.

What is going on in your head, Jihoon? You found yourself wondering since you couldn’t read his face. Have you started to figure it out?

“Sorry, I was thinking.” He muttered suddenly, shaking his head. “But I know what I need to write now. Will you read this one too? Even if it gets pretty long?”

“Of course!” You exclaimed with a smile. “When have I ever shied away from a challenge?”

The soft glisten in his eyes made your heart flutter.

“Never.”

When the bell rang and you parted ways, you wondered if Jihoon had ever written you a letter.

Well there’s a first time for everything.

For the next week, he was in full writer mode. And there were no more notes from his secret admirer, not that you expected there to be any. Every chance he got he was scribbling something down on whatever surface he could get his hands on. Textbooks, paper, his arm, he was more inspired than you’d ever seen before and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t even come over to your house over the weekend, a ritual you hadn’t broken in the ten plus years you had known each other. It was a lonely week, for sure, but you knew it was for a good cause.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he approached you in the courtyard with a single sheet of paper in his hand.

“Hey…” He started uneasily, his grip tightening. “How’re you?”

Seriously? You mused to yourself with a smile. “I’m good, how’s the writing?”

“Done.” He clipped. “And—I think I covered everything.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, eyeing the sheet of paper. “With all of that writing I thought you’d have a novel for me.”

He shook his head, while a blush crawled up his neck. “Sometimes being concise is more effective than being overly wordy.”

“That’s true.” You grinned. “Easier for me to edit anyway.”

Nodding, he shoved the paper into your hand. “Here. Take your time, I don’t want you to rush it.”

“I won’t.” You promised, resisting the urge to start reading right away. “I know you put a lot of thought into this.”

With that, he turned around and walked off without another word. Leaving you holding something that looked like little more than pen ink on paper, but felt like a confession on fire. Once he was out of eyesight, you exhaled a breath you had been holding unintentionally and started reading.

To the person I have never loved before. It began, and you weren’t prepared for the roller coaster you had willingly climbed into.

This isn’t for the person I’ve loved all along, no. This is for you, someone who managed to stir my emotions more than a raging monsoon with only a few words and the hint of a promise. Who are you? I wondered to myself, because you were without equal. How could I have missed you? You were extraordinary. You didn’t have a face, all I had of you was a letter slipped into my locker, you were a ghost and I was set ablaze by your words. I had never felt like that before, my heart was unprepared. As was I. You made me question everything, and made me realize things I had never seen before.

What I felt for you wasn’t love, even though I thought it was at first. You presented me with feelings I decided I would never feel, so I could only assume that it was love. I felt like a live wire, ready to spark at a moment's notice. All I could think about was you. The infinite options and scenarios I dreamt up, all because of you, was astronomical. It was exhilarating, and I found myself drunk on the endless possibilities that you presented me. What else could make me feel that way, if it wasn’t love?

The answer was one I didn’t expect, and it hit me like a tsunami. I started to feel that way towards someone I already know. Someone who has cared for me more than anyone should, they have been my best friend for years so how could I suddenly feel the same way? How could my friendship for them become intertwined with the love I thought was solely reserved for you? And how could I have missed it after being enveloped by their warmth for so long?

You changed all of that. You made me see clearly for the first time in years and I was completely undone. Everything I knew was suddenly challenged, my feelings towards the most important person in my life changed without any warning, and I didn’t know what to do. How could I ask them, a friend, to see me as anything more? I was lost, trapped in an endless loop of destructive thoughts and desire. Desperately wanting to scream my feelings from the rooftop while fearing the voice that would have to put words to them. Your feelings for me awakened my feelings for them, and suddenly the words that have given me comfort for so long escaped me.

Still, you helped me.

In ways I can only thank with this letter.

You helped me because you are the one who told me to start writing letters. It’s always been you. You are the one who has given my thoughts meaning when I struggled to communicate with the world. One that could never understand someone like me. You are the one who wrote me a letter, asking a coward to help you be brave. It took me a while to realize that you were one and the same, but I picked up on the hints you left behind. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.

Would you have showed up had I not asked you to come with me? I think about that often, were you only afraid because my initial thought was that there was no way it could be you? The impossible notion that my best friend could love me anymore than they already do? I have a thousand more questions I want to ask you, but I think I’m brave enough now to ask you in person.

So I’m going to end this letter here, because you deserve so much more than the words I’ve hidden behind for years. A letter I started to write for someone I thought I didn’t know, to the person I’ve never loved before. Funny, how it ended up being a letter to the person I’ve loved all along.

As you read the last line, tears already streaming down your face, you had never felt happier.

“You figured it out.” You whispered, almost in disbelief. “For a second there I thought you never would.”

You don’t know when Jihoon came back, but he was suddenly standing in front of you taking your hand in his. “It really shouldn’t have taken me that long, I’ve only seen your handwriting a thousand times before.”

Laughter bubbled past your lips as you dried your tears with your sleeve. “I was terrified that you would’ve figured me out from the very beginning. Looks like I really give you too much credit sometimes.”

“You do.” He agreed. “So, what did you think of the letter? Any edits you can think of?”

“This isn’t the type of letter that needs editing.” You stated plainly. “It would take away from the author’s meaning.”

“What would that be?” He asked, clearly teasing you. “Enlighten me.”

You shook your head defiantly. “No, no way. It’s your letter, why don’t you tell me what it’s supposed to mean?”

Part of him didn’t want to make it easy, that much you knew with absolute certainty. But, for the sake of time and your poor heart, he would let you off the hook. Just this once.

“That I love you.” He said softly. “More than anything else.”

Choking out a sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close.

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

In the end, neither of you were good with words, but you only needed to know what to say to each other.

106 notes · View notes

chenziee · 3 years

Text

Romance Dawn for the East Blue

Inspired by @feriowind‘s blessed tweet about Yamato winding up on Dawn Island :)

Enjoy 4k words of the 4 brothers driving everyone crazy :D

[Read on AO3 or below the cut]

----------

Slowly blinking awake, Yamato struggled to remember why he was lying on the beach of some strange island, the smell of sea salt and trash mixing in the air into something almost worse than the confines of his prison of Onigashima. Almost. It was still freedom after all, and Yamato would gladly take this disgusting smell over his father threatening to place bombs on his wrists.

Looking around groggily, his eyes finally fell on the sad, wooden remains of a small boat, a boat that Yamato had been using to sail this unfamiliar sea during the past weeks. And he finally remembered the terrible events that had led him to this island.

Yes, it was a dark, stormy night, the likes of which Yamato had never seen even in the unpredictable New World, and definitely not since his escape in the peaceful and calm East Blue. He had fought to keep his boat from capsizing, fighting against the strong winds and ocean currents all by himself for hours… but then suddenly, a Neptunian so large it could only have come from the Calm Belt appeared. Yamato had managed to fight it off but unfortunately, his boat suffered too much damage from the power of his Thunder Bagua. He was then forced to swim to the nearest shore with the last bits of strength he had left—

"I saw the Lord of the Coast attack the fishing boat this person was sleeping in. It was really funny, when they woke up, they screamed so loud I think even the people in Fuusha heard. And then they fell in the water while trying to stand up. But the idiot apparently can't swim so I had to go fish them out."

Yamato froze in place at the boyish voice who was retelling his heroic battle so rudely. Wasn't he allowed to at least pretend?

Another boy, this one sounding even younger, started snickering then. "I like this person, Sabo! They’re so funny!"

"Luffy, you're the last one who should be laughing here," a third voice sighed. "Anchor boy." Yamato could almost hear the cheeky smirk on his face as he teased this 'Luffy'.

“Don’t call me that!” the youngest one cried, sounding like he was about to fight the other boy.

“Ace, don’t provoke him,” the first boy chided. “You’ll wake the idiot with your fighting.”

That was it.

“Will you stop calling me an idiot?!” Yamato shouted as he sprung up to a sitting position, an embarrassed blush on his face.

They all paused at the sudden movement, blinking up at him in shock. Yamato glowered at them one by one, taking note of how tiny these kids were—the blond and the freckled one looked no older than 12, while the other could be maybe 8. The blond was the only one dripping in water, just as much as Yamato himself was, and Yamato could only assume this was Sabo, the one who had pulled him out of the water. That would make Freckles ‘Ace’, and the youngest one ‘Luffy’.

Yamato had to wonder, though, how Sabo was able to save him all by himself. Yamato was 16 years old, a lot older than however old these boys were, and he was Kaido’s son—meaning he was already much taller than some adults. Although, he supposed he had seen stranger things and people a lot stronger than a human their size should have been. An image of Oden during his execution came to mind immediately but Yamato quickly chased the memory away.

“Oh look, the idiot’s awake,” Ace said lazily, looking thoroughly unimpressed by Yamato’s glare and simply returning it with one of his own.

Luffy, on the other hand, grinned brightly, hopping over to Yamato to stare up at him with stars in his eyes. “Are those horns? Real ones?”

Blinking, Yamato’s hand automatically reached up to touch one of his horns. “Yeah?” he replied slowly, unsure of what he was supposed to say. Was it that weird to people not from the Grand Line to see someone with features like this?

“That’s so cool! Join my pirate crew!” His grin only widened with his request—or demand.

Yamato tilted his head to the side. “You have a pirate crew?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, not yet,” Luffy said, a small pout appearing on his lips. “But eventually, I will be the Pirate King so of course I will have one!” he announced looking so proud and sure of himself and Yamato felt his lips twitch upward.

“Sure, King, I’ll tag along with you,” he laughed, seeing no harm in indulging the adorable kid. And who knew? Maybe he really would end up sailing with him. After all, in 12 years, the Nine Red Scabbards would come back to Wano and Yamato needed to be back there by then. He needed to help open the country.

And who was to say he couldn’t bring the Pirate King with him?

Sabo clicked his tongue then, walking up to Luffy and ruffling his hair. “Stop that, you don’t even know this person’s name.”

“Oh right,” Yamato said, hitting t he palm of his hand with his fist in sudden realization. “Sorry. I’m Kozuki Oden. You can also call me Yamato. Son of Kaido. Thanks for helping me.”

----------

“Ace! Luffy! What’s the meaning of this?!”

Yamato groaned; always a wonderful way to wake up. “Are you drunk again, you bull-gorilla? Go away it’s too early for this,” he shouted back, not even bothering to open his eyes.

There was a moment of silence until someone stomped over to stand right above Yamato’s head. “What did you just call me, you brat?”

Finally, Yamato blinked up at the person with long ginger hair, a cigarette between their lips, and looking decidedly female. He closed his eyes again, mumbling, “Oh you’re not my father. Whatever then.” As soon as he was done, he pulled his blanket over his head to try and get some more peace and quiet.

It might not have been his father but it still was too early for this.

“Dadan, shut up,” some one whined from somewhere around halfway down Yamato’s body.

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” another person joined in, their voice coming from Yamato’s other side.

Oh right. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy had brought him back to their place last night; this had to be the nasty old hag they mentioned. Definitely seemed like one.

“First Garp drops you two on me, then you bring in more and more kids with you? What do you expect me to do, this isn’t a daycare!” It sounded like the woman was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Finally, Sabo spoke up, sounding about as sleepy as Yamato felt, “Dadan, this is our brother, Yamao. Yamao, Dadan.” With that, he flopped back down, his head coming to rest against Yamato’s thigh.

“I’m not a pillow, you three!” Yamato snapped upon the realization of how the boys were laying with their limbs thrown all over the place, Yamato’s own body included. “And it’s Ya-ma-to,” he added with a sigh, already giving giving up on convincing them to not use Luffy’s nickname.

“Where the hell did you manage to pick up another brother,” Dadan complained and Yamato was starting to feel a little sorry for her. He had to admit that dealing with these three was like fighting a hurricane and it hasn’t even been 24 hours since he met them. At least now he was there, a responsible teenager to keep them in check. She should really be grateful he happened to… choose this island to land on.

“Alright, kid. I don’t care who you are you where you came from—” the woman paused, folding her arms over her chest as she stared down and Yamato— “but I will not feed you. One bowl of rice per day is all I can guarantee you.”

Yamato laughed, “That’s not necessary. Oden could do it, I would be a disgrace if I couldn’t take care of myself and my brothers, too.”

Dadan stared at him for a moment, blinking once, twice, before she threw he hands up in frustration. As she walked away, Yamato could hear her mumbling to herself about stupid brats who couldn’t be phased by anything and how she was going to ‘let Garp have it’ the next time he ‘bothered to show his sorry ass’ there.

Yamato simply shrugged and went back to sleep.

----------

Life on Dawn Island turned out to be surprisingly easy and, even more surprisingly, fun. It didn’t take Yamato long to get to know the forest, the mountain, and the Grey Terminal beyond it, running around the place with his little brothers like he was born there with them.

“Yamao, where are you going, that’s the opposite direction!” Sabo called after him in exasperation, pointing the right way.

A few days after his arrival, he went to retrieve his kanabo from the waters just off the shore. Ace had looked at him, asking why he was so desperate if it was the same weapon the father he so hated used and Yamato couldn’t admit he had a point but… he simply didn’t feel right without it. It was his weapon as well now, and the bull-gorilla wouldn’t take that away from him.

It took him three hours of diving but the happiness and rightness of his kanabo next to him was well worth the effort.

“What are you two anchors doing?” Ace shouted from where he was in the water and towards the two at the beach, looking incredibly annoyed.

Yamato and Luffy exchanged a glance before turning back to Ace and replying in unison, “Building a pirate ship from sand.”

Just then, Sabo’s head popped out of the water next to Ace. “I need a break,” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath after being underwater for so long.

“This club of yours better be made from gold, Yamao, or so help me,” Ace grumbled before leaving Sabo to rest and diving in instead.

Once he had his kanabo in hand, it became incredibly easy to hunt even the most ferocious beasts around, allowing Yamato enough room to stay back and direct the young brothers, giving them pointers and helping them with their hunting techniques. Usually, he simply watched, letting the boys do most of the hunt, even if it meant the prey got away sometimes. After all, making mistakes and losing was a good way to get stronger. So he let them do their own thing while making sure they were okay, and only jumping in when necessary.

“Okay, here’s the plan. We go around the river, then we split up. Me and Luffy will go up while you and Ace follow the riverbed. It’s risky, but on my signal, you will catch its attention and keep it distracted. Then me and Luffy jump down at its head. Hopefully that will at least knock it out so you and Ace can then come help us finish it. And Yamao—” Sabo paused, giving Yamato a hard, subtly threatening look— “if you run ahead screaming and scare it off again, we’re having you for dinner.”

Yamato could only gulp and nod obediently.

He even managed to impress the local Madonna, the cute pub owner Makino. The first time she had come to visit after Yamato had arrived, she immediately dropped all the food, alcohol, and children’s clothes that she had brought, and ran straight to him. She gave him all of her attention the rest of her stay. And even though Yamato wasn’t interested, he had to admit that being fawned over, and especially the jealous stares all the bandits were giving him, felt great.

“Oh my,” Makino muttered when she noticed Yamato. “Luffy did say Yamao was a little taller than him but…” she trailed off, her expression turning troubled.

“You don’t have any clothes big enough for him, do you?” Dogra asked, munching on one of the cones Makino had brought.

The young woman shook her head, sighing, “I think I’ll have to make them all from scratch. Yamao, can you come here? I need to take some measurements.”

"Yamao, you're blushing more than Ace did!" Luffy pointed out immediately, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

Yamato made sure his hand was coated in haki when he hit the boy over the head.

Over all, he had to say he much prefered the life of a cool big brother over being a pirate crew’s' ‘young master’. It was a lot more fun, a lot easier to breathe. He never felt more free than he did while laughing and running around the mountain, plotting pranks on their brothers with Ace, or getting grounded— getting thanked by Sabo for running off and beating up the pathetic excuses for pirates who had hurt Luffy and threatened the boys' treasure stash.

Even Dadan's frustrated screaming felt more loving than anything the bull-gorilla of a biological parent had ever shown him. And no, it definitely wasn’t much more embarrassing.

----------

"I don't want to be a marine!" Luffy screamed one morning just as the others were getting ready to head out to work their brand new tree house base.

Both Sabo and Ace froze, turning to stare at each other for a moment with wide eyes.

"Run?" Ace asked in a whisper.

"Run," Sabo nodded seriously before they both turned to look at Yamato.

The teen simply sat there, turning his confused gaze between Ace, Sabo, and the direction from which Luffy's voice came a few seconds earlier. "What's going on?"

Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance once more, seemingly coming to a mutual understanding before Ace answered, "Go see for yourself. Luffy could probably use the help."

Immediately, Yamato was on his feet, heading outside to save his adorable baby brother from whatever monster he was facing. He was slightly suspicious of the high five Ace and Sabo had exchanged, not as sneakily as they probably thought, but as long as Luffy was in trouble, it didn't matter much to him.

As soon as he made it outside the little house, his eyes fell on the two figures fighting just a little bit away from the house. Obviously, one of them was Luffy, who was visibly fuming; growling and snapping his teeth like he was getting ready to literally bite the legs off of his target.

The target in question was a tall, although obviously much shorter than Yamato, and muscular old man clad in a bright red and white aloha shirt, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared Luffy down. He looked thoroughly unimpressed by Luffy’s pistol punches—which admittedly still left much to be desired despite Yamato’s efforts to help him out; it was only a question of time before he managed to find the right bang feeling. The man he was fighting looked vaguely familiar but Yamato couldn’t place that face no matter how much he wrecked his brain.

But it didn’t matter.

“Luffy, are you okay?!” Yamato called in alarm, rushing forward while preparing to swing his kanabo at the stranger.

The both of them turned to look at him then, identical angry expressions on their faces and suddenly, Yamato realized who the man reminded him of. It was more than obvious where Luffy got his personality and expressions. Maybe he should… not attack this person on sight?

Making the decision for him, Luffy huffed upon seeing him approach, raising his hand and making Yamato stop. “Stay back, I’m fine! I can kick gramps’ ass myself!”

“Who’s ass are you gonna kick?” the man snapped, his light punch making Luffy clutch at his head. “You can’t win against the fist of love, Luffy!”

Yamato blinked. That was obviously haki but… fist of love?

Ignoring Luffy’s complaints, the man gave Yamato an obvious once over. “And who are you? Wait—” he paused, looking like he just remembered something— “you’re Yamao, aren’t you?”

“My name is Ya-ma-to, and I’m Luffy’s big brother,” Yamato replied, not entirely sure why he even bothered to correct anyone on his name at this point. No one ever listened.

“Part of the family already, hm? You have an impressive swing; you’ll make a fine marine.” The grandfather nodded, grinning at Yamato in approval.

Yamato did a double take. “I’m not going to be a marine!” he responded immediately, the horror he felt at the though clear in his voice.

“Exactly! We’re gonna be pirates!” Luffy joined in, fully recovered and launching a new rubbery pistol punch, which went completely ignored.

Gramps puffed up, raising his fist threateningly in front of himself. “Nonsense! All four of you will be the strongest marines the navy’s ever had if I have any say in it!”

“No way!” Luffy and Yamato cried in unison, the both of them jumping at the man in a joint attack.

A second later the both of them were rolling on the ground together, clutching at their heads and trying to recover from yet another fist of love. Seriously, Yamato only just met this guy, why was he getting a fist of love? Or better yet, why did it sound like he was already considered a grandson? He didn’t even know his new grandfather’s name.

He guessed it was simply one more proof of his relation to Luffy. It was exactly the same to when Luffy had decided by himself that Yamato was the big brother now, not even half an hour after meeting him, and just like back then, Yamato was powerless in defying that decision.

Not like he wanted to. He would be lying if he said being considered family so easily, so warmly, so unconditionally didn’t make him happy. But still…

“I’m already a pirate,” he growled. Not to mention marines did nothing but fight Oden and the Pirate King’s crew. Like hell was he becoming one of them.

Gramps took a deep breath, looking like he was about to explode, but Yamato interrupted him. “The navy wouldn’t want someone with my blood anyway. They’d execute me on the spot,” he said flatly, looking the man straight in the eyes, trying to convey how disgusted by the institution, the world government, the current world he was. Like hell was he participating in that. He’d much rather wait patiently for the one who was going to change it all and support them.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, neither of them faltering as they stared each other down silently. Until finally, gramps grinned, a smile so similar to Luffy’s that Yamato startled.

“If blood’s the problem, all the more reason you should join,” he announced, the smile never leaving his face even as his eyes turned almost sad.

Yamato tilted his head to the side as he watched the man slowly look at Luffy before his eyes slid in the direction of the bandits’ house. When Yamato turned to look, he could see Ace turning around and walking away, Sabo quickly following with a worried expression on his face.

Well.

At least Yamato wasn’t the only one who obviously hated his biological family around here.

Deciding to leave Ace in Sabo’s hands, Yamato turned back to the problem at hand but before he could snap at the man, Luffy did so for him, “No. He’s joining my crew!”

“Over my dead body!” gramps roared in response, looking like he was going to go off on a rant.

Yamato, however, wasn’t about to sit around and listen to that. “No, over my dead body. Do you even hear how fucked up it is that you need to join the navy to be safe from getting hunted? Neither of us going there,” he growled, baring his teeth for good measure.

The old man paused, blinking at Yamato once, then twice, before he burst out in laughter, one so loud, so honest, and so contagious that, despite having no idea what was so funny, it made even Yamato want to laugh. All his anger was forgotten as his lips stretched in a grin, shaking his head at the sudden realization of how weird this entire situation was. He barely knew what was even happening but… it wasn’t like Yamato ever really paused to think about things. If it felt right, he’d go with it. If it didn’t, fuck it.

And this, incredibly, felt right.

It was only a long while later that gramps finally caught his breath enough to speak, “I like you, kid. Are you sure you’re Kaido’s son?”

As if hit by the bull-gorilla’s Thunder Bagua, Yamato stopped laughing, only staring with an open mouth as dread ran through him. “How?” he could only say after a dreadfully long moment of heavy silence. Or maybe it was only a second. But it was too much, and made Yamato feel too on edge. Ready to fight. He didn’t want to even hear the bull-gorilla’s name; definitely didn’t want to hear it in relation to himself.

Gramps looked at him as if asking if he was kidding then, but with his only answer being a glare, he started laughing anew. “Kid, if you don’t want people to know, or the asshole finding you, maybe stop introducing yourself with ‘son of Kaido’ to anyone you meet. You have poor Makino quite worried.”

Oh.

Whoops?

“Yamao, you’re stupid,” Luffy laughed.

The teen huffed, shoving hard at Luffy’s shoulder. “You’re stupid,” he hissed back, making Luffy stick his tongue out at him.

Yamato saw it only fair he do the same in return.

Just then, a dark shadow loomed over the both of them and they slowly looked up, only to see gramps looking down at them with an evil grin on his face, slowly cracking his knuckles. “Whatever you say, I will train you stupid brats into proper marines, yet.”

Yamato finally understood why Ace and Sabo’s immediate reaction was to run, then send Yamato as what he could now only assume being a sacrifice. There was no way even Yamato was going to be a fair match for this man. “Oh fuck,” Yamato cursed, scrambling to his feet to follow Luffy, who who was already hafway down the clearing away after taking the first popped knuckle as his signal to bolt.

“Watch your fucking language in front of your baby brothers!” gramps shouted after him just before something that might have been a pine cone flew past him at an impossible speed.

Yamato and Luffy exchanged a glance, identical grins spreading in their lips before they both took a deep breath. “ACE! SABO! HELP!!”

If they were to die today, they’d make sure to take the other two down with them.

----------

Hours later, Yamato lay awake in his bed on the floor of the mountain bandits’ cabin long after his brothers started snoring softly. He was exhausted from the day spent laughing and running away from gramps—or Garp, as he had finally learned earlier that evening once Dadan finally stopped hiding from the man—but as opposed to the others, he didn’t want to sleep.

Not when gramps and Dadan were busy talking on the other side of this thin wall. What had started as the two of them sharing their frustrations and complaints about their kids quickly turned into fondness as they instead told each other stories about the brothers and their antics. Yamoto wasn’t surprised the bandit knew exactly where their secret base was, just as he wasn’t surprised by Garp only pulling out the most embarrassing stories he probably could.

It was a good thing the other three had managed to pass out the second their heads hit their pillows or they’d be trying to fight the old man all over again over it.

Yamato, on the other hand, refused to miss out on a second of this. The adults might not have allowed him to drink with them, claiming Yamato was too young for that—to which he not-so-politely disagreed, but then Garp’s fist disagreed with him—but they couldn’t stop him from listening. Those were his brothers they were talking about and he wanted to hear all about the past ten years of their lives that he had missed.

And if he maybe got a little bit happy every time they brought Yamato up, well… no one had to know that.

“Yamao, I swear if you don’t stop laughing at their shitty stories, I will strangle you with your own hair.”

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justapalspal · 2 years

Text

THE REPORT

This accidentally became known as “The Report” in my head, so please have this bullet point list of notable and buck wild ygo fics and things I’ve compiled. @yuusaris pretty much challenged me without challenging me to think up some old fic things I’ve read and it turned into a labor of love about the many things I’ve found on my deep dives into old ygo fandom, as well as things I’ve been fond of for almost ten years. Then I had to show it to @ninjam117 and @millenniumringg as I wrote it.

So yeah *cracks knuckles* my time has come.

There’s the obvious mentions of old oof ygo fic tropes and brief descriptions of nsfw, so it’s gettin a #spicy and #spicy text tag for that (and also a read more tbh it’s pretty long). Also included is gender au and a brief mention of two fics with mpreg (in a tame way), the ygo 2000s suicide trope, the abuse once or twice, and a couple other things too elaborated under the read more. Tread carefully fam <3

I’ve gone across ffnet, AFF, ao3, mediaminer, and even the livejournal remnants, but haven’t had very much luck with the personal website side of fic and such. Most of those are lost to time, or only saved via patchy geocities mirrors or wayback machine snapshots. I do my deep dives for fun so you don’t have to, so let’s have a good time as we wonder at what the eng yugioh fandom has given us under the cut—some of it absurd, some of it endearing, and some of it very obviously oof.

Again, warnings for discussion of the following: bits of nsfw, gender au, mpreg, 2000s ygo suicide tropes (but not Ryou), 2000s ygo abuse tropes, one mention of (incredibly distant) incest and one other throw away line about the subject, and a couple very brief references to ships of Bandit Keith and Pegasus with Ryou. There is also one mention of Yami B with Mai.

Now that makes this all seem terrible but actually a lot of it is just funny. Like, in the most absurd way even though there’s a lot of instances of oof. I’m describing a lot of fics I’ve read over my time in the ygo fandom and a lot more I’ve found on my deep dives into the wilds of ygo. I don’t remember many of the titles. I’m sure some of them (aside from the confirmed ones) have been deleted. I focused more on the early 2000s era and put a cut off somewhere around 2015, since that’s an era of ygo I find particularly fascinating. Many of these fics are genuinely funny, and actually quite pleasantly oof free (or very minimal oof).

Some things I remember seeing:

One fic where Ryou decided he wanted to kill Bakura because he’d like snapped but along the way he became some sort of floozy (referred to much more ehhh-ly in fic) and decided to make out with every other male character conceivable, all while going after Bakura. Bakura was terrified. I think this was yandere Ryou

I think there was a fic that gave Isis a yami in the necklace, and for some reason she had red hair(?) and she wasn’t brought up until like, chapter something-teen? There was no build up at all to her, but I remember distinctly being able to tell the author had the best time writing her. She was in love with Shadi iirc

Update: So turns out these two were the same fic and I shouldn’t have doubted my memory and also there’s YAMI SHADI

The one fic on mediaminer where Bakura committed suicide (or tried to) instead of Ryou. It was because Ryou didn’t come home on time.

The one very well written spellbook tender fic in which there was a completely random no holds barred genderswap arc where Bakura became a redhead girl and went to prom or something with Ryou because Ryou’s dad was so happy he knew a “girl” (but also angry because Bakura was “living” with him and so I think like. Papa wanted Ryou to make “an honest woman” out of Bakura. He found clothes there and them in the same bed and that was sCaNdElOuS.)

The ygotas personalities for no conceivable reason out the wazoo. Of Elevators and Muses comes to mind but good gosh for all its weird time capsule moments that fic is still fondly latched into my memory. I read it a whole year after it initially finished. I vividly remembered the hotel room scene where Bakura gets freaking flustered over seeing Ryou without his fancypants piano performance shirt and Bakura just kept rationalizing it away. Kyoko is my dream oc child. Bakura was a nervous anxious wreck and his pissed off attitude about it is something I still ridiculously adore to this day. He missed when he tried to kiss Ryou. I’m so sad it got taken down.

I won’t even get into the ancient, ancient Bakura gets mpreg’d fic(s) I am Thinking About

Or the Ryou mpreg ones

Here’s the tame one it’s the one fic where Bakura got pregnant by accident because neither he nor Ryou knew sex ed and “did it both ways to be sure” after Bakura drank the magic pregnancy potion instead of Ryou because their hot chocolate got swapped. Ryou cheated on Bakura later because he felt bogged down by the baby. The baby was named Rain. Actually it may have been because they had a second daughter but it was because Bakura cheated on him with one of the Maliks (I think it was after feeling ignored)

Hentai or Chikai Malik or something. It was some sort of “pervert” but not exactly pervert word, I think? Or maybe to do with love. Malik gained another personality after the end of canon and it was because he was horny and pent up (and repressed)

The bait and switch “genderbend” Ryou gemshipping fic. It was gay all along, fellas

The one fic that did a gender au of Bakura instead of Ryou but like, in a well thought out way actually. I’d have a surprising amount of nickels for the amount of times I’ve seen fics doing gender au of Bakura and not Ryou, actually.

That one dedicated vex shipper that is like what, still periodically updating their wip after 10 years? Mad respect

Actually their host/vexship fic still lives in my head rent free sometimes. It was very well written and I was quite invested and read it in one night. Man, it felt like a novel

The hostship/thiefship combo fic where they ended up having a foursome but it was a threesome body-wise

“Kaiba genuinely falls for Anzu and tries to woo her but Anzu is just like ‘wtf I don’t believe you?? you can’t win me with money? prove it? be nice to my friends???’ and he’s actually the worst at human interaction” gosh I need to find that again

“Can you have a romance OC?” actually like the most well written OFC/main cast member I’ve ever seen, and that was after reading my then-fave Dr Who x OFC fic

No, wait, there’s also the slow burn yami b/OFC (yami b/OFC/malik love triangle) fic up there with the OC who got thrown into the world of ygo. Surprising amount of “I woke up in ygo” before isekai, fun fic trope, genuinely ppl having a good time. Fond memories of that and I still wish she’d returned Ryou’s brief crush on her man, rip my guy there homie 👊😔

AFF had that one fic where Ryou wrote fanfic of himself and Bakura and it was actually well liked by the in-universe fic readers but then Bakura found it and Ryou was mortified (then the M rating kicked in). Somehow, the fact that many ppl wrote fanfic of them—which implied they were somehow known and possibly known as a show(?)—did not come up coherently once

Actually I think there were two fics where Ryou pretended to be a girl and Bakura fell for him. One of them was on AFF. Not a bait and switch, but I think some real big fantasy power dynamics were in there

The Bandit Keith x Ryou fic where he thought Ryou was a girl and got pissed he wasn’t and then Yami B came out of the Ring and zapped him or something for being a dick and a creep

There is a surprising amount of fics where Bandit Keith meets up with Ryou somehow under the castle (at least three, maybe four)

Possessive and All That Glitters are my two all time fave ffnet only angstshipping fics actually because Ryou is like incredible in there, incredibly creepy and ic, I will take no substitutes, I will love no other, and this was in the ygo year of our lord 2012!!

The Incarnation of Zorc is gonna happen and oh boy Bakura is gonna make sure it happens (with mpreg and Ryou) like how is this genuinely the funniest 600 word drabble about Cthulhu horror mpreg I’ve ever read

AFF had a fic where Bakura knew Ryou was abusing him but stayed because he “knew he could handle him” and it made him love the fuck out of Ryou. Bakura did give him shit back with the silent treatment but it was pretty obvious he was getting the kermuppence kicked out of him and like, staying delusional about it?? Ryou was 100% terrible and physically violent, they weren't even dating(?), wtf lmao FHDJFHFJ

Then there was the AFF Ryou drugs fic where he put out cigarettes or joints or something on yami b’s hands while in the bathtub

Need I even go into the AFF/mediaminer fic where Bakura turned out to be Ryou’s great great great something great grandfather and they angsted about it being incest for like one chapter but that’s it? The author is genuinely interesting, I just found that a weird plot point to introduce and then smooth over like that without any lasting impact LMDJFJFJ

Modern day yami b gets a tan and that’s how he becomes tkb

Actually these all three are the same fic like the whole concept of a majority of the fic being spent on Ryou working up to “ok I’m almost ready to top you Bakura I know you’ve been begging don’t worry sweetie :)” in 2007-2009 of all times is WILD

Mad props to the dedication of Faust going through three iterations of the fic since the 2000s and finally getting completed a year or two ago like dang, that fact alone is unique as it is astounding, MAD respect, I gotta finish that one

Origins of Symmetry did it too

Ryuujitsu ily

The one double gender au where fem!Bakura was fem!Ryou’s sugar mama

There’s this other AFF one I’m distinctly remembering but the only part I remember is that Ryou gets his multiple boyfriends and he and two of them kiss each other at the same time, all three on the lips. I don’t think I’ve seen a kiss written like that since

There was one fic where Bakura basically played a long con of homophobic chicken for money and then Ryou found out and straight up killed him

The one fic where Bakura had to be the role model for Yami and say “hey, look at the good relationship I have with my light, look what you did to yours, look at him, you gave him depression” because tendies was the alpha couple and Yugi just wanted to die. Ryou’s urge to die got fixed by love like seven chapters in. Meanwhile Kaiba and Jou were stuck in super detention which was basically a whole week of detention straight, yet kept beating the shit out of each other (Jou fell in love with him in detention)

I’m not even gonna go into the throuple Amane one I read from the 2000s a few days ago (is it still incest if it’s not?) (no, it is not the new one that went up on ao3 dndndnbs)

The one where Ryou steals Bakura’s body after Bakura visits his hubby’s grave and befriends the spooky ghost Ryou there too much. It’s horror, it’s horrific, it’s well written, I’m never gonna read it again 😂😂😂

I might actually be having some nickels lining up for the number of fics that tackle “one day Ryou will top Bakura (but not today)”

I have no idea why at least two Pegasus x Ryou fics exist across multiple platforms that I know of, but if I had two nickels

as you can see, I would have a lot of nickels

Hey has anyone read Cadeau. It ripped me to pieces and it’s pretty heavy but also it just. It just. It. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have never had a 2003 yugioh fic go as hard at me as this open ended “did Bakura fuck up” fanfic did, oh gee, oh gee, oh man

A surprising amount of instances of people trying to write fics titled “Ba-Ku-Ra!” (or some variation)

Ryou got banged by a knife at least twice on AFF (luckily the handle side)

An interesting character sketch of Ryou pondering the emotional failing of his and Honda’s college relationship (because he feels stifled by him)

Why are the Ishtars so often the providers of magic potions and spells and plot convenience things and stuff. Is it because they’re mysterious or something

Actually there’s a surprising amount of like off to the side tendershipping with Ryou and his top/versatile tender shenanigans over the years, it really does just feel like it got drowned out by the Abusive Seme Bakura trope and Ryou Flanderization prior to like ~2015

There were two fics that pondered the question of “what if Ryou got the ability to keep Bakura out of his body during the canon storyline” that got published around the same time, but one ended in romance while the other ended in pretty obvious “this was a fucked up unhealthy relationship.” I remember being disappointed back then that they didn’t both end romantically but honestly looking back on them now it’s an interesting like, point of discussion for me, because the intent of the non romantic one was definitely “here is a supremely unhealthy dynamic,” yet somehow at the time I wanted them to end the same.

yes the first one is persistent shadow anyone who wants tendies content (with y’know the lemon/lime type stuff) should read it please go read it if you haven’t

The love potion one was quite funny actually. Ryou got exposed to one and the entire cast of ygo (and domino city) were all trying to get with him but like romantically. Turned out Bakura was the only one who wasn’t actually affected by it because he loved Ryou before the potion

Man I miss Philophobic. OCD Paralegal Bakura and Weirdo Quiet Malik was intriguing. I was ecstatic when Ryou showed up in like chapter 15/16. Little Bro Ryou. Baku Bros and Dead Amane. Bakura literally had the first name McJagger.

There’s the one old ao3 fic I’m remembering now that was tornship and Bakura and Ryou proposed together because they had the same body and it was during a day long ice skating date. I think it’s gone forever fellas ;;

The Kim Possible/Tendershipping + etcetera mega crossover, I’m so glad that author is living their best life

I took two steps in to an AFF fic where Bakura got kidnapped to be Ryou’s new present by Ryou’s dad and once I hit “won’t you give me some of your milk” I walked directly back out of there

Sometimes I still think about Opal, where Ryou betrays the human race to go off and live with his giant alien boyfriend who has claws and thus cannot perform fingering or anal prep, which Ryou also apparently can’t perform. It is a fond memory of a wacky sci-fi au (but it was definitely going for dramatic) (and tendies)

Bakura x Yami and one of them was the EMT but they were the only two ones from ygo canon in there and it was a thriller and every other character was Frickin’ American, I kid you not 😂😂

The hostship one where Ryou found a magic diary journal and ended up writing non-erotic friend fiction by accident (the first time) and got anxious when Anzu started acting out his crush writing iirc

Anyone remember those “the cast watches YGOTAS” fics. One of them had Ryou getting upset and hurt by the side character jokes ;^;

If you ever think everything hasn’t been shipped, I read an old fic where Yami Bakura didn’t want to tell Mai they were lovers in the past and so he just angsted pissedly about it instead while watching her from like across the park idk (but I think she was interested in the memory or him somehow still anyhow, IDK LMAO)

That one long Bakura and Jou fic. I thought it was over 700k words but I checked and it’s over 998k. My gosh, the absolute dedication

IT UPDATED LAST MONTH???!?!

I need to end with a banger, but all I can remember is yugioh had an extensive crossover with death note on ffnet where they introduced the concept of light magic, everyone summoned their own monsters irl, and Yami Bakura had his purple eyes, which I thought was so beautiful and aesthetically pleasing

There was one early early early fic somewhere way in the beginnings of the ffnet archive with Bakura and Ryou. Bakura was insecure and angsting—in bed—about Ryou and their loving relationship—in the same bed as Ryou—and all I can remember thinking about it while reading it is “wow, it feels like this was written before the Tendies Abuse dynamic even solidified into fanon canon.”

One time back before the Yahoo Groups shut down I ran across a Yami and Bakura fic from like 2003-2004(?) that just had them chilling without any trouble going on, and I can’t believe that that of all things surprised me by just existing

Then there was the Yami/Bakura one where Bakura was suicidal yet there was no way to read it because the author erased almost all of the previous chapters when they decided to rewrite it. When you go onto the wayback machine with the link to that fic you can see everything the author took down. This is the case for a surprising amount of old, old ygo fic

I remember a tender fic that also had this as the case for it (I think the author said something about not wanting to bother the people who had finished reading the story ages ago)

Actually. The gigantic, gigantic ripped file archive of ffnet might be the most astounding thing to end this at. Some guy took a huge bot program or script program crawler thing to the entirety of ffnet and spent possibly 2-3 years downloading everything from it. All the fanfic. Everything public at the time. The ygo archive stops around 2015. This is theorized to be the entire reason that ffnet switched to making it impossible to copy paste fic from the desktop site. Mobile, perplexingly, is still entirely copy paste block free

Also, mediaminer still exists. It just has none of the art

This in no way represents everything out there, but man does it make for a fun list. The eng yugioh fandom is enthralling to scour through. All this fandom archeology and the deep dives into yugioh history are my passion 🐸

Hope I could entertain ✨✨✨

#honestly I could probably write fandom essays at this point #it has hit me that maybe not everybody has done the same extensive searching I have #it's fascinating though like yugioh is one of the fandoms you can really see the evolution from the 2000s to the 2020s fandom culture like #uninterrupted for the most part #very fascinating #incredibly fascinating #spicy #spicy text #head the warnings please #the latest fixation project LMAO #The Report #ramble #fandom archeology #my fandom archeology #i'm very fond of the gems in old ygo fandom #this got to be around 3.3k words #ghhhg #yugioh

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you.

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam.

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up.

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later.

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you.

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape.

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained.

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant.

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant." You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting.

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

“Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth.

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss.

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam.

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve.

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty.

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor.

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips.

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife.

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in.

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car."

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too.

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours.

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break.

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips.

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss.

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm.

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you.

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track.

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest.

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation.

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed.

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest.

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss.

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered.

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard.

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier.

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?"

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..."

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room.

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were.

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you.

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'.

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt.

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

#rock n roll people in a disco world #Paul Diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #street kings #street kings fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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lazuli-bloom · 3 years

Text

Roses and Styx

Chapter 3 – Kids' Games To Pass The Time

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5,399

New day, new problems. Sure things aren't the worst they could be, but that new hire isn't making things all that easy at work.

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

An annoying, rhythmic buzz cut through silence. Light seeped its way in, chasing away the shadows of sleep. You groaned and rolled. It was too early to face the new day.

Compounding your groggy state was the fact you didn't sleep for shit last night. The chilly October night sucked the warmth from your room, and you had only a few blankets to shield yourself from it. And the chill didn't stop your mind racing most of the night. When sleep came to you, it brought restless dreams.

The first wasn't terrible, just strange. A weird bug followed you home wanting to be friends. The other dream, however... A vile pit formed in your stomach.

Your thoughts drifted to the dream. You couldn't move. Arms, legs, head, nothing. You couldn't budge an inch no matter how hard you fought. Something wanted you to stay still. And it wasn't as if your surroundings gave you any clues either. Darkness blanketed the room. No details, just a barren inky void. The only thing you found with you was a set of pinprick lights.

A voice spoke. It whispered beautiful words coated in honey. Your guts twisted. A warm touch held your face, and the voice asked you a question. Your words caught in your throat. The entity glared at you with icy eyes, and the sweet words soured to a nasty venom.

You clutched your chest as the memory of searing heat replayed. It sank blazing claws into your waist and arm, blistering and cooking the flesh.

You drew in shaky breaths and wiped away the leftover tears. It was just a dream. It was just a bad dream. You're safe.

You took in one more breath before getting up to start your day.

Normally you would go straight to the bathroom, but you wanted to check something. You stepped out into the main living space and found it empty. A DVD case sat on the coffee table, but the TV screen was dark. The couch laid devoid of any unexpected house guests. No sign anyone else was ever there. Your heart sank as you realized the encounter you remembered was just another dream cooked up by your tired brain. A frown pulled at your lips and you sighed. No time to mope. You needed to get ready for work.

You opened the bathroom door and peered inside. Rigel napped on the top of the toilet's water tank, surrounded by shredded toilet paper. At least it was less of a mess than yesterday. You clean up the ribbons and tossed them in the garbage under the sink. After you topped off his food and water, you hopped in the shower.

The water in your apartment only ever got up to lukewarm on a good day. And that was not a good day. Frigged rain pelted you, giving you goosebumps. Not wanting to linger, you got out and dressed a few minutes later.

You combed your fingers through your hair as you looted the kitchen. Damn cat, why'd it have to throw up on your hairbrush? You grumbled to yourself and pulled out the off-brand cereal to fix breakfast.

"What 'cha doing, babes?" A voice from nowhere spoke in your ear.

Your knees buckle and you collapse, taking the bag of cereal with you. You gripped at your chest to still your heart, and rolled to sit with your back to the cabinets. A man in a rotting striped suit floated in your kitchen, clutching his rounder stomach as he cackled.

"Oh sweets, that's great! I wasn't even trying!"

As the shock fades, your features scrunched up. You got to your feet and tossed the bag on the counter. With crossed arms you pivot to glare at the ghost, still laughing his ass off.

"Giving me a heart attack first thing in the morning," you said with a huff, "I came out here and you were gone. I thought I had dreamed the whole thing, you jerk."

"So you're saying you missed me?" He batted his eyes at you, setting your cheeks on fire. You would not dignify that with a response. Instead, you turned back to the counter and fixed your breakfast.

"Where did you go then?" you asked and riffled through the silverware drawer for a spoon.

"I was checking on your neighbors. Did you know the guys a few doors down have a shit-ton of electronics?"

"Yeah, and old lady Smith has a garden in her closet."

"Really? Which one is she in? I didn't find that."

"She's on the third floor, but don't bug her too much. She's nice. Plus she bakes amazing cookies for me whenever I help her."

You scarfed your breakfast, and double checked you had everything done. Rigel was in the bathroom with his things. You had your wallet and phone. After you finished the last bite, you set the bowl in the sink along with the one from last night.

You rinsed out the bowl and hummed to yourself before you glanced over your shoulder to the ghost. He grinned at you with a tilt of his head. You gave him a small smile, only to frown.

"I have to head to work."

That simple sentence wiped the grin from his face. His shoulders sank, and the color of his hair shifted. A dull purple seeped in and overtook the green. That couldn't be a good sign. "You're leaving me here?"

"Well, you could stay here, or..."

"Or?"

"If you can be out of the way and let me focus on my work when I need to, then you could tag along with me. It’d be nice having someone other than my boss to talk to during the downtime."

His grin stretched across his face again, and he spun up to you, batting his eyes. "Oh babes, you do care! Of course I'll go with you! Not my idea for a first date, but I'll take it."

You pressed your lips tight. Was this a mistake? Not like you can take back the offer, though. That would crush him. You let out a long sigh and rubbed at your temple.

"Not a date, dude."

"If you say so," he purred.

You shook your head and grabbed the keys before heading to the car. The ghost trailed you, with an ever present chill at your side. On the way to the car, he pointed out each of the apartments and spilled whatever secrets he found out. You had an inkling of some of your neighbors' crimes, but you weren't one to go tattling. It was best to let them deal with their lives and you deal with yours. So you ended up nodding along to what the ghost told you.

When you got to your car, you sat behind the wheel for a moment. Once your ghostly friend floated into the passenger seat, you took in a breath.

"Okay. A few things before we get there," You said as you fought to start the car, "If either my boss or a customer comes up and needs to talk to me, I would appreciate it if you hang back for a minute and let me handle them. Otherwise, I mostly just front-face merchandise and I can talk with you so long as I'm quiet. Also, I take my lunches in the cemetery, so I can talk a bit more freely there."

"Sounds good to me, toots."

You rolled your eyes and got the hunk of junk started. The car protested with clangs, but you drove off with a little more of a fight. On the scenic drive to work he asked you to turn on the radio, which got a dry laugh from you.

"What's so funny?"

"Radio's broke. Most things in this car are broken. Radio, heater, a/c. All of them are broken."

"Can't you get a new one? There's cars all over the place, just take one."

"Th-this isn't Grand Theft Auto,"

"It will be once you take a car!"

"Okay, technically true. I meant this isn't the game GTA, this is real life. And I would get arrested."

"Not if you had help from the ghost with the most!"

You rolled your eyes and turned onto the main road, heading for work. The rest of the drive, the "ghost with the most" filled the air with his own voice, singing a medley of songs. Some of them you recognized, others you suspected he made up on the spot.

You pulled into the employee parking and parked your car alongside the two much nicer ones there. As you collected your things, Beetlejuice pointed to the sleek mustang.

"That car looks fun! We should steal a car like that!"

"I'm pretty sure that's Brandon's car. I'm not stealing my coworker's car to take for a joyride."

"But it would be so cool!"

"Maybe later," you said, stepping out of your junker.

The bell chimed as you entered the store and caught your boss's attention. He came over to greet you and made sure you were doing better. You gave a small laugh and rubbed at the back of your neck.

"Yeah, I'm doing better." You glanced sidelong to the ghost wandering over to the front counter.

"Good. Now hopefully I can focus on training Brandon without as many interruptions. He keeps breaking away to chat with every customer that comes into the store. So I need you to handle the customers so he doesn't have an excuse."

"Got it. And if you need help with him, I can always smack some sense into him. The new order of mallets is in the back, right?"

Mr. Turner laughed and turned to go back to teaching Brandon. You smiled to yourself and meandered over to the counter. Your ghost pal sat on the countertop next to the computer.

"You never mentioned you get to hit people at your job, any openings?"

"Sorry, spot's filled. For now, anyway. But who knows, maybe we'll need a replacement soon."

"Save it for me. I would kill to get to hang around a pretty little breather like you all day and get paid for it. But doing that for free is nice too."

"You're a shameless flirt."

"How can a sexy beast like me not be with you around and able to see me?"

You shook your head and glanced at the computer. There was something you wanted to look up, you were sure of it. But what was it? You stepped closer and opened a new tab for the search. It sat blank for a moment as you retraced what the topic could have been.

"What are ya doing, babes?"

"I can't remember what I wanted to search for."

"One hundred great ways to skin a cat?"

You raised a brow and frowned at him. "I'm not hurting Rigel." A light flicked on in your head.

You typed in the cat's name and clicked on the page for the star. A picture of the Orion constellation to the side of the page showed off the stars. Most of them had fancy looking letters next to them, with a few having numbers attached. Rigel marked the lower right star, while the upper left was the only other star with a word.

"Beh-tell? Goose? Wait..." You jerked your head over to the ghost, who wore a Cheshire grin. "That's how you spell your name?"

"Yep. That's me. Behtellgoose."

You read the name once more. Betelgeuse. Such a strange spelling to sound like beetle-juice. Kind of cool though. You smiled and closed out of the tab when an unfamiliar voice called out to you.

"Good morning, Art. Great to see you doing better!"

"Heh, yeah. Feeling better." You forced a tight-lipped smile to prevent yourself from frowning. Brandon stayed still with his own fake smile plastered on his face. After a beat of him not saying anything, you asked, "Do you need something?"

"You forgot to go grab your apron. What if a customer came in? That would look very unprofessional. Here, I'll watch the counter and you can go grab your apron."

The corner of your mouth twitched, and you took in a deep breath. You stepped away and grabbed your stupid apron. As you threw it on, the bell chimed. You rushed back out, hoping to catch the customer before Brandon.

The counter stood unattended and you found Brandon down one aisle with a woman discussing products. You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Isn't that what your boss wanted you to stop him from doing?"

"Yes, Beetle, it is."

You hissed out a sigh and shook your head. As you walked over to them, you prepared yourself to speak in your chipper customer service voice. Brandon insisted he could take care of the customer, only for Mr. Turner to order him to get back to training. Brandon grimaced and stepped away to let you take over.

Your smile was easier to keep on your face after that. You helped the customer find what she needed and rang up her items. She left with a wave and you went back to the computer.

"What the hell is that guy's deal?" Betelgeuse asked, gesturing with a thumb to Brandon.

"I don't know. I don't know if I really care." You leaned back onto your heels and let your mind wander. Whenever you were alone, stuck at the counter, you always pulled up simple web games on the computer to pass the time. But with Betelgeuse there, you couldn't ignore him to play games.

"What are ya thinking about, sweets? How hot it would be to make out right now?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "No, you flirt. I'm thinking of what we can do to pass the time. All I'm coming up with are twenty questions and I spy."

"I'm fine with that," he said as he flashed you a sharp grin. "Okay, I'll start. I spy with my rotten eye, something... metal."

"Well, that narrows it down."

The two of you spent the rest of the morning going, taking turns playing those silly kids' games. Betelgeuse huffed and whined whenever a customer, or worse, Brandon, pulled you away to help them. Any time you called him out on his grumbling, he denied it as the color in his hair shifted.

He caught you staring at his hair once or twice, which exacerbated the shifting colors. Each time that happened, Betelgeuse quickly picked up whichever game you two had been playing. You left the topic alone for the moment, but stashed it away to ask about later.

Halfway into a difficult game of twenty questions, Mr. Turner came up to the counter. You ignored Betelgeuse's smug punchable face and greeted your boss, hoping your frustration didn't bleed into your tone.

"Cass, I'm stepping out for a bit to pick up something. I should be back for you to take your lunch break. Keep an eye on the store and Brandon for me, while I'm gone, okay?"

"Got it. Burn down the place and leave no evidence. Can do."

He shook his head with a laugh. Mr. Turner said, "you turd," before he waved goodbye and left the shop.

"Ooh baby, I love you talking about crimes like that! Tell me how you'd light up the place."

You turned back to the ghost. He floated with his stomach parallel to the ground as he held his scruffy chin in his hands and swung his legs pointed upward. You laughed at the dork and smiled.

"Well, the kerosene is over there, and the rolls of rags are an aisle over. There's a blow torch with some of the other tools."

"Artemis!" You whipped your attention to the stick in the mud, frowning at you. You didn't even get the chance to speak. "That kind of talk is highly unprofessional! Going over ways to burn down the store, shame on you."

"I was joking dude, it's not—"

"Well, I don't find that funny. And you shouldn't address your elders as 'dude', it is very disrespectful."

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"Good. Now I need your help."

You gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Brandon motioned for you to follow him, and once he turned back, you brought two fingers to your temple and jerked your head away.

In the middle of a tedious and painful walkthrough of creating an order of paint, the bell rang. Brandon broke away the second it chimed and went straight to helping the customer. That was irritating enough, but after the regular said they didn't need any help, Brandon insisted on assisting them.

You took in a deep breath and let the man dig his own grave. If he doesn't value your help, then he's not getting it. You marched back to the counter and found Betelgeuse picking his teeth.

He licked a striped tongue over his sharp teeth then said, "What a douchebag."

"Tell me about it."

The customer came up to the counter a minute later, followed by Brandon. You greeted the regular and switched the computer over to its register display. Your new coworker nudged you aside and insisted on being the one to ring up the customer.

"Artemis, you should have stayed at the paint desk. I'll meet you back there in a minute, after I help this gentleman."

You wanted nothing more than to slap that man. Who the hell does he think he is? Calling you unprofessional and pulling stunts like that? You grit your teeth and forced a smile before excusing yourself to head back to the paint desk.

Betelgeuse floated after you and lounged on top of the desk. You spared him a glance, but stuck to pacing the small paint pit, waiting for that douche-canoe to get back there. The customer didn't even have a lot of things to buy, so it shouldn't take Brandon that long.

"That freaking jerk," you said under your breath, "I can't believe Mr. Turner hired a guy like that."

"Want me to kill him?"

"Tempting, but no. I'm just going to talk to my boss when he gets back." You checked your phone for the time. A quarter after one, which means only fifteen more minutes until your lunch break. "God, I hope he's here soon."

You tapped your nails against the metal top of the tint machine, the speed of which accelerated the longer you waited. What the hell was taking him so long? Did another customer show up? This was getting infuriating.

"You sure you don't want me to kill the guy?"

"No, Beetle, I don't want you to do that."

"Art, who are you talking to?"

You turned around to the voice. Brandon stood at the threshold of the paint pit with his hand on his hips and raised a brow at you. Your face burned as you laughed, attempting to cover up your embarrassment.

"Oh, just this annoying little beetle. It was crawling under the tint dispenser."

"Do you regularly talk to disgusting bugs?" he asked. You opened your mouth to speak, only for Brandon to keep talking. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't act so childish. How old are you? Late teens?"

"No, Brandon, I'm closer to my thirties than my teens."

"And you're talking to bugs, where any customer can come up and see that behavior. You ought to grow up and act your age, Artemis."

The bell chimed again, and you shuffled to the side to get an unobstructed view of the front. Mr. Turner stepped in with a smile and a wave. You waved back and checked the clock on the computer. One twenty-seven, perfect. You pulled your apron's strings and took it off in a swift motion.

"Where do you think you're going, Artemis?"

"Lunch."

Brandon frowned, and you folded up your apron with a smile. He probably wanted to stop you from leaving, but that shit would not fly with the boss back. Betelgeuse hopped down from his spot on the counter and followed. You tossed your apron behind the front counter and greeted Mr. Turner. After a quick rundown of what had happened, you left for your break, with a quick stop to your car to grab your food.

On the walk to the cemetery, Betelgeuse mocked the stupid things Brandon said. He was dead on with his impression, too.

"Artemis, do you think I give a shit? I'm a giant douche with a stick up my ass! There's no fun allowed in the store."

You did your best to hold back your laughter, but that only caused you to snort. A laugh roared out next to you in Betelgeuse's voice. You covered your mouth with your free hand, but that couldn't stop your shoulders from bouncing. As the two of you crossed into the graveyard, you glanced sidelong at the ghost, who shot you a grin.

In the cemetery, devoid of any other visitors, you veered towards your usual spot, off in the corner and near the front gate. You sat on the stone bench, setting your lunch beside you. Betelgeuse, however, sat on a gravestone, with his feet propped up on the one next to it.

You opened up your small bag of chips and started snacking on them. Betelgeuse looked over from picking at his nails and raised a brow at you.

"That's all you're going to eat, babes?"

"I have a granola bar too."

You grabbed the other half of your lunch and showed him. He tilted his head with a frown, but said nothing. It grew quiet, save for your munching on the chips. Your mind wandered, and you zoned out, staring unfocused in a random direction. Betelgeuse moved, catching your eye, and you studied him.

He gnawed at his black nails with jagged yellow teeth. Stubble covered his round chin, matching the same green mixed in his hair. Has his stubble changed color like his hair has? And why did his hair change color to begin with?

You hummed to yourself after finishing the last of your chips.

"What's up, sweets?"

"I... was hoping to ask you something."

Betelgeuse tilted his head to the other side and raised a brow and pursed his lips. You gave a half smile and laughed. He looked like a curious puppy. How could this ghost-demon look so cute?

"What is it?"

"I've noticed that your hair isn't always green."

As soon as the sentence left your mouth, the color of his hair shifted to a deep purple. You shrank back as your stomach twisted into knots. Even without knowing what the colors meant, the frown on his face and sudden dodging of eye contact weren't good signs. On no. You messed up, didn't you? Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything. Forget I ever mentioned it."

You dug your nails into your palms and turned your gaze to your knees. Betelgeuse produced a mix of a growl and a groan, and you peered up at him through your hair. His lips pulled into an almost smile as he kept sharp eyes pointed at his hands, where he raked his nails through the hair of one.

"I might as well tell you, you'd figure it out eventually. My hair changes color with my mood."

You dared to lift your head more. Your lips parted as your brain processed the new information.

"Like a chameleon?"

"Like what?"

He tilted his head and raised a brow as his nose wrinkled. You forced out a small laugh and smile as you wrung your wrists. "A chameleon, the little lizards that change color. It's to communicate their mood. Darker colors like black are when it's stressed, neutral tones are when it's calm, and vibrant greens, or reds can be excitement or aggression."

Betelgeuse lurched forward with a growl and ran his hands through his hair, shielding the deepening purple from view. Your stomach twisted into knots. This wasn't getting better. You parted your lips only to press them shut a second later. Why did you have to screw up and bring up his hair in the first place?

Your nails dug deeper into your palms. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"If you're going to strip a guy naked like that, babes, you could at least buy me dinner first."

Your face wrinkled as you tilted your head at him. Betelgeuse still held himself curled and closed off, but he wore a weak crooked smile. Your lips twitched, and you huffed out a dry laugh.

"Alright, we can go through the drive thru to get a few things off the dollar menu."

"Ooh! I wanna try one of those green sludgy shake things from that Old MacDonald place."

"Sorry to break this to you, but they only sell those in March."

"What? That's lame!"

"Everything is pumpkin spice right now."

He pouted and crossed his arms with a huff. Despite the childish act, the purple in his hair faded back to a muted green. You chuckled to yourself as relief washed over you. With a soft smile, you grabbed the other half of your lunch and hummed before you opened it.

"Hey Beetle."

"Hmm?"

"I won't bring it up again if you don't want me to, but I wanted to say I think your chameleon hair is pretty cool. Like, is it magic? Or is it a demon thing? Or—sorry. I'm sorry. I'll shut up about it now. Sorry."

Your eyes darted to focus on your granola bar. You fumbled with tearing open the packaging for a second, only for the wrapper to give. The force sent your food tumbling to the ground. You stared at the broken bar and heaved out a sigh. Just wonderful.

Your pocket buzzed, veering your attention to it. You pulled out your phone and checked the caller id. Unknown number. Chills cascaded down as you stared at the phone.

"Something wrong, babes?"

"Nope. Everything's fine. Just some spam call."

You shoved it back into your pocket and let it ring. If the caller wanted anything, they can leave a voicemail. Besides, you needed to get back to work.

You picked up your trash and nodded your head to the gate. Betelgeuse hopped up and floated alongside you. After a few steps out of the cemetery, your phone rang again. Every fiber in you tensed up, but you left your phone in your pocket. The third time your phone rang, Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Who the hell keeps calling you?"

You shrugged and laughed despite your dry throat. "Who knows? I have to get back to work though."

With a hurried pace, you made it back to the store in a few minutes. The bell swung, chiming away as you beeline for your apron behind the counter. Brandon stood at the register with a phone up to his ear.

"There you are, Art! I've been calling you and you never once answered!" Brandon frowned at you and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. "You're obligated to pick up if I or Mr. Turner ever need to call you."

"O-oh, that was you calling." A small breath escapes passed your lips and you relax, only to register what he said. "Wait, how did you even get my number? I've only ever given this number to Sam and Mr. Turner."

"Why does it matter how I got your number? The issue is; if work calls you, especially if you have a shift that day, you need to answer."

"Fine, okay. I'll save your number so I don't panic again when I'm called three times in a row."

"Oh please, three phone calls make you panic? Artemis, you're an adult. You should know better than to be worried about something as simple as a phone call."

You grit your teeth and smiled. This conversation wasn't going anywhere you wanted, and you didn't plan on sticking around. You threw on your apron and marched to a far corner of the store to get away from everyone. Well, save for the ghost haunting you.

"Wow, babes, that guy is a major piece of work."

"Piece of shit is more like it."

You grabbed at products on the shelf and pulled them forward, turning the labels when needed. If you looked busy, maybe Brandon would mind his own fucking business. You clenched your jaw and growled as you brought more things forward.

"I shouldn't be worried about phone calls? What the fuck does he know? He's never had to put up with the shit I have!"

"And what shit would that be, babes?"

You glanced up to the ghost laying on his stomach across the top of the aisle shelving. Betelgeuse tilted his head. Soft and earnest curiosity graced his features. The corner of your mouth twitched before you closed your eyes and let out a hiss.

"I don't want to get into it," you said, keeping your voice quiet, "but I've had someone call me over and over before. It wasn't fun."

You pulled the rest of the items forward within arm's reach before sidestepping to get more. Betelgeuse floated after you as you inched down the aisle. He picked the games back up, and you welcomed the distraction.

There were one or two rounds of I spy, several goes at twenty questions—which you're positive Betelgeuse cheated and switched his topic multiple times. Towards the end of your shift, well after Brandon left for the day, you two asked a few "would you rather" questions. While he asked a few risque questions at the start—bite or be bitten, top or bottom—his questions took a tamer turn, similar to the ones you asked.

"Okay babe, would you rather find a rat in the kitchen or a roach in your bed?"

"I mean... I guess I'd prefer seeing another rat in the kitchen over finding more roaches?"

"M-more?"

"Donna hires her incompetent nephew to do the pest control for the apartments." You swept the line of dirt into the pan and tossed it into the trash. "Actually, speaking of, I should double check the traps and make sure something isn't rotting somewhere in the apartment."

Betelgeuse watched you finish the last of the closing routine. You clicked the pan back around the neck of the broom and stuffed it into a corner behind the counter. The only thing left was Mr. Turner to finish locking up the cash and heading out. You leaned against the counter and rolled your head back to look at the ceiling.

A quiet stillness overtook the store. It lasted a few seconds before Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Would you rather have a nicer place but the same landlady, or the same apartment with a nicer landlady—"

"Alright Cass, you ready to leave?"

You turned your attention from the unseen ghost to your boss. He smiled and gestured to the door. You returned a half smile before exiting. Mr. Turner locked up, and you waved goodbye. A minute later you sank into the car seat and rested your hands on the wheel.

"Well babes, this certainly seems familiar."

You glanced his way and rolled your eyes before getting the car started.

"Yep, it's been an entire day since a demon followed my home, like a lost puppy."

"I'm way cuter than any puppy. Plus, you can keep me in your apartment all you want and your shitty landlady can't do anything about it!"

"Nicer landlady, by the way," you said as the car sputtered to life.

"What?"

"I'd rather have a nicer landlady than a nicer place. Donna would just let a nicer place fall to ruin."

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. At the first red light, you tapped your finger on the wheel and hummed.

"Hey Beetle, would you rather stay in a comfortable and familiar place with people that don't believe half of what you say, or cut all contact with them and be alone if it meant freedom?"

Betelgeuse tilted his head from one side to the other, closing his eyes as he mulled over your question. As he thought, the light changed, and you continued on your way home. A sharp grin stretched across his face a moment later.

"Easy. I'd take my freedom."

Your lips twitched up. "Yeah... me too."

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing #fun fact. I kept miss spelling Brandon as Brandong when typing this

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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

drivers license

Summary: based on this request. i kind of changed it a bit and made it the ‘story behind drivers license’ if that makes sense. the events that lead up to her writing this song in the future.

TW: fluff/angst, a bit of kissing, sad ending, i think that’s it?

WC: 4,349

masterlist

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there was always a certain kind of tenderness when you would return home to visit your dad. you rarely got to do so, especially being on your first national tour. so when any opportunity arose to see him, you took it as a blessing.

your dad had told you about a guy your age he had taken under his wing and began to mentor, you had just never met him. sebastian? samuel? his name escaped you. your dad had just mentioned how he was a little older than you, and a bit different than most people you would meet at the fbi academy.

because of knowing how much your dad liked this boy, it was no surprise that when you were dropped off by the taxi cab you took you saw a guy matching the description your father had given you a while ago.

there he stood, a book in hand as he leaned against the post of your dad’s porch, completely unaware of the world around him. he was engrossed in the book, lost in another place you wondered if he would ever want to show you.

“y/n!” your dad began making his way down the steps of his cabin to greet you. “spencer, why don’t you help her out a bit?”

“oh-uh, ri-right. yes, of course,” he stuttered out before making his way to help you get the remaining bag out of the trunk.

“hi, spencer i assume?” you squinted, extending your had to shake his before remembering what your dad had told you. “oh wait, i’m sorry. you don’t like hand shakes,” you laughed off, retreating your hand and opting to just wipe your palm on your pants.

you finally got a good look at him. his hair was slicked back neatly, almost too neatly for someone in the fbi. his eyes were a bit sunken in, but not in a worrisome way, more in a way that made you wonder what those eyes had seen to make them that way. his nose, an adorable button nose that was a bit upturned at anything beneath him. lips, the doors of breath, the plump pinkness of them as he softly bit the inside of it from... nerves? habit. what words would fall out of them that would engross your being entirely.

he was attractive. maybe in a bit of an unconventional way, but in a way nonetheless.

“th-that’s alright,” he smiled softly as he took both bags from you and began taking them inside of the cabin to the room he knew to be yours.

“dad,” you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, him returning the favor. “i’ve missed you,” you hummed against his shoulder.

“me too, sweetie. i’m glad your back,” he pulled back, grasping your shoulders firmly. “how long are you staying this time?”

“1 1/2 months,” you smiled. “that’s why there’s so much stuff,” you huffed out a laugh as you motioned to the rest of the taxi, grabbing the remaining two bags only for him to grab them from your hands. “i can carry my own things, y’know.”

“and i want to do something sweet for my daughter. let me live, why don’t ya?” he teased as you both went into your room, spencer following behind after you made it past the living room.

it was similar to how you left it before college. there were pictures of your high school friends you weren’t in touch with anymore, some of you in the marching band and others of you at the lake with a group of people. there were banners of the college you had once wanted to go, now overshadowed by your dreams coming true. your old paintings were displayed on the wall along with some family photos you had taken with stephen. there was your guitar in the corner, along with a keyboard and ukulele you had learned to play when you were little.

“i’m so sorry i’ve deprived you of being sweet to your daughter,” you raised your hands in feigned defeat. “how’ve you been?” you asked, plopping down on the familiar bed.

“i’ve been good. spencer being around has been helping with you not being here,” he replied as he took the seat beside you.

“wow, already replacing me, huh?” you chuckled as you nudged jason with your shoulder gently.

“i’ll let you two get acquainted,” he pat your leg gently before he stood up and left you and spencer in your childhood room.

“i-i would never want to do that. if i’m overstepping i can tota-” spencer got cut off.

“don’t worry, spencer. i was just... playing around, y’know?” you smiled. “i’m glad you’re here to help out with this old man,” you laughed. “i’ve heard a lot about you. you’re pretty impressive, i hope you know that.”

“oh uhm, th-thank you. i think?” he smiled again, taking a seat in the chair at your vanity after turning it towards you.

“you’re welcome, it’s not everyday i meet a doctor that’s under 20,” you chuckled once again. “sorry, i make terrible jokes when i’m nervous,” you looked back down at your hands.

“i think i’ve caught on to that, yes,” he agreed. “why, if i may ask, are you nervous?”

“um, i guess because i’m intimidated by you?” you phrased as a question.

“you’re intimidated by me? ho-wha-why would you be intimidated by me?” he questioned, leaning in closer to your bed in interest.

“well for one, three phds. two, eidetic memory. three, have you looked in the mirror?” you returned the questioning, leaning in to mirror his body language.

“what’s wrong? why would i need to look in the mirror?” he leaned back a bit, looking in the mirror at your vanity and furrowing his brows before you stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“nothing wrong, spencer. you’re just... attractive, okay?” you chuckled as he settled into your touch. “oh shoot, i’m sorry,” you grimaced as you retracted your hand, surprised when he grasped it firmly.

there was a brief moment, one that made it seem as though maybe he had that same attraction to you. that brief moment held an impact on you. he wasn’t just looking at you. he was looking at you. it seemed like he was committing this moment to his everlasting eidetic memory.

and just like that, it was over. in the blink of an eye that moment was gone.

“s-sorry,” he let go of your hand quickly, you pulled it back to your side, not forgetting the touch of his soft hand, his fingers encasing around gently.

“don’t be, spencer,” you smiled before your dad came back into the room.

you had talked with him throughout the entire night, both your dad and spencer. there were times when you were almost positive he had felt that spark. you thought maybe even your dad noticed it, but nothing was said or done.

after your dad had gone to bed around 2:30 a.m., you had all decided it was too late for spencer to drive back to the academy. so, he would stay the night.

you had wanted to continue your discussion with him about popular study methods, being yet again entranced by his ramblings and the way his hands would motion about nearly anything he could. you were both on the couch, sharing a blanket as you began to doze off to the soothing sound of spencer’s voice.

“sorry, i should stop talking,” he chuckled, his hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly before you grasped his hand with yours.

“no, no it’s not that. please, keep talking,” you smiled before releasing his hand. “your voice is really nice, is all,” you shrugged.

“re-really?” his voice raised three octaves.

“yea, really,” you chuckled. “can you just... keep talking?”

“uhm, y-yea. sure. i can do that,” he smiled as you curled in closer to him. your head rested on his chest as your hand wrapped around his side before your head shot up.

“i’m sorry, i-is this okay? you don’t even like shaking hands and here i am curling into you like i’m a koala. koala’s do that, right? yea sure they do that,” you rambled on.

“it’s alright. there’s more warmth, i think it’s nice,” he said as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling your body closer to his.

“alright, i just wanted to make sure,” you complied, your head resting fully on his chest with no reservations.

“so there were many studies done in the 80s about how writing things multiple times helps the brain with muscle...” spencer trailed on talking, noticing the way your breathing steadied out with the welcoming of sleep.

you didn’t feel the kiss he pressed to your hairline once he was sure you were asleep. you didn’t know that’s the best he’d slept in weeks. you would never know.

the week went on very similar. you would spend most of your time with your dad, and when able to spencer would tag along after he got out of the academy. you found yourself yearning for the times he would come over, and realized that he was the closest friend you’ve had since high school. and it only took two weeks.

two weeks for the bit of attraction to develop into a crush. two weeks for you to realize how sweet and caring and boyfriendy he would be if he was officially yours. but you couldn’t say anything about it yet.

unbeknownst to you, sometime before you had arrived your dad had told spencer about your driving issue, or more like the lack thereof.

“so...” he smiled mischievously. “i heard that you don’t know how to drive yet,” he revealed as you chuckled humorlessly.

“nope. not gonna happen, sir,” you laughed as you rose from the bed, placing your notebook away on your shelf.

“what? why not?!” he argued, remaining on the bed.

“because, spence,” you huffed, turning back around to face him, pressing your back against your shelf. “it’s just... it makes me really anxious.”

“you? scared of something?” he incredulously replied. “no way,” he chuckled.

“hahaha, very funny,” you mocked him as you threw yourself down on the bed beside him. “i’m scared of a lot of things, y’know. i just don’t let people know about it,” you shrugged as you began playing with your fingers.

“why not? it’s normal to be afraid of things,” he replied, laying all the way down beside you.

“really? what’re you scared of then, doctor?” you replied sassily.

“the dark,” he revealed quickly.

“the dark?” you turned your head to face him in confusion.

“mhmm, the dark,” he nodded as he looked down at you, staring into your eyes. “before you ask, it’s because of the inherent absence of light,” he smiled as you rolled your eyes. “but i still go into the dark all the time. metaphorically and physically.”

“it’s easier said than done,” you huffed out as you broke eye contact.

“i’ll be there to help you through it all, y/n,” he reached for your hand and held it in his own. “i promise.”

there’s that feeling again.

“fine!” you groaned. “you win.”

“as i always do,” he grinned smugly before you pressed your palm against his face, shoving it away with a chuckle from the both of you.

the next day, you were both in your dad’s car in the driveway. you were in the driver’s seat, spencer in the passenger side. you pressed on the brake as you switched gears to drive.

“alright, slowly ease off the brake gently,” he guided softly.

“the brakes are really sensitive on most cars, so you don’t need to be too aggressive with it.”

“slow down, jeez!”

“okay, that was a really good stop.”

“not so sharp-” you hit the curb. “...on the turns”

“okay, now pull in... just like that.”

“reverse, brake,”

“put it in park, perfect!”

“how’d i do, coach?” you smiled widely as you removed your hands from the wheel.

“not the worst, but you still need a lot of improvement,” he laughed.

“whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes as you removed the keys from the ignition.

the next few days, you had driven around 20 times. you made simple trips to the grocery store, around the block, and to get food. you and spencer now had a road trip playlist, courtesy of you.

you also had a song you wanted to show him, one that wasn’t out on the radio yet.

so the plan waited. and waited. and waited.

“why don’t you sing us something?” your dad suggested while playing poker yet again, spencer clearly winning so far.

“well that’s a bit random, dad,” you chuckled as you put down your card to fold.

“you should!” spencer agreed eagerly. “please?” he gave you puppy dog eyes.

“fine!” you sighed, getting up to grab your guitar from your room. “just, don’t laugh. it’s a piece i’ve been working on since i got here. i haven’t found the right lyrics yet so bare with me,” you chuckled before beginning to strum.

you didn’t bother playing the lyrics, you knew they would reveal way too much far too fast. for now, the melody would have to do.

“wow, that sounds pretty good, y/n,” your dad applauded along with spencer.

“thank you, thank you all,” you chuckled, taking a bow before returning your guitar to its respective place.

the next day you were driving, you decided to turn the radio on as a change of pace. you sighed as you rested your head on the back of the headrest, just listening to the music play until you heard a familiar sound.

your head shot up, you looked at spencer with wide eyes before turning the radio up just to be sure. sure enough, it was your voice coming from the car radio speakers. your mouth dropped in awe as you froze in your seat, looking at spencer in the eyes.

“wait, this sounds like...” it took him a minute to realize. “this is your voice?!” he asked, his head shooting up with a look similar to yours as you nodded your head eagerly.

he reached over the center console, wrapping his arms around you snugly. you embraced his arms, returning the favor gladly as you swayed to the song.

“that’s the first time i’ve heard it on the radio, spence,” you cheered into his shoulder.

“oh my god, that’s so amazing, y/n,” he pulled back. “i’m so proud of you.”

“thank you,” you smiled.

you were still wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, just gazing into your eyes. suddenly, he was leaning in. his hand moved from behind your back to the side of your face, cupping it gently. you leaned in a bit in return.

suddenly, the door to your dad’s cabin shot open as he was shouting:

“you’re on the radio! you’re on the radio!”

you both shot back to your respective places, you gave spencer a small smile before getting out of the car to go celebrate with your dad.

“y/n, i’m so proud of you!” your dad wrapped you in his arms. “congratulations.”

“thank you,” you huffed into his shoulder, breathing in the calming scent of home.

you couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if your dad hadn’t come outside. would he have actually kissed you? you would never know.

the week before you had to leave, you decided to finish writing the song. it wasn’t very hard, you’d written love songs before. but this one had actual meaning behind it. this one was for someone. it was for spencer.

a week before you had to leave your dad had gotten called out on a case, spencer had volunteered to keep you company for the next couple of days. spencer had called you ahead of time to tell you he was on his way.

when he arrived, he seemed a bit off. he wasn’t as... spencer as he normally was. his eyes didn’t light up, his smile was fake and only took up a small portion of his face.

“are you alright?” you asked, closing the door behind him as he entered the house.

“what? oh-yea, yea. i’m fine,” he pulled another fake smile.

“spencer, growing up with a father as a profile taught me a few things. what’s actually wrong?” you pressed as you sat down on the couch, spencer following suit.

“it’s really stupid,” he shrugged.

“i don’t think it’s that stupid if it’s upsetting you,” you replied, scooting closer to him on the couch.

“fine,” he took a deep breath. “so... i’m clearly not as fit or muscular as most of the people in the academy. and i know i’ll be exempt from most of those physical attributes on account of my mind. but-well,” he sighed once more. “the guys there are just so rude about it. th-they laugh at me when we do our workouts. they don’t ever let me finish a thought. they call me chicken legs. it’s just... i’m tired of it. i thought that once i left high school i wouldn’t have to deal with people like them but i’m starting to think there will always be someone with something backhanded or rude to say about me,” he finished.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, allowing him to rest his head in the crevice by your shoulder and neck. his arms flew around your waist as you began rubbing light circles on his upper back.

“you’re right,” you broke the silence, not letting him out of your grasp. “there will always be someone with something to say, whether it’s good or bad. but what matters is how you hold yourself after they say something. you could hide away, which may seem like a good idea at the time, or you could ignore them, which seems really hard to do. and it is. but it’s easier as you learn to accept things they say.”

“what does that mean?” he questioned.

“it means, as cliché as it sounds, embrace your differences. if a guy calls you chicken legs say ‘yea, i have chicken legs. but at least my brain isn’t the size of a chicken’s.’” you countered, feeling a laugh against your shoulder. “and you know how much i love it when you talk. your mind amazes me every time i see you, spence. so don’t, please don’t, let them ruin you. you are perfect, just how you are.”

“thank you, y/n,” he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “i-i really needed to hear that.”

“anytime, doctor,” you smiled. “want me to play with your hair?” he nodded enthusiastically, plopping his head down in your lap as you began twirling and twisting his strands in your fingers.

you had managed to finish the song two nights before you had to leave. your dad still hadn’t gotten back from the case, so spencer was still going to hang out with you alone that night. you were going to play it for him.

so when he got back from the academy, you grabbed his hands and led him into the living room.

“alright, i wrote this song, and i wanted to play it for you,” you smiled, playing with your fingers as you sat him down on the couch once more.

“a-alright...” he said with a smile, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“alright,” you ran to your bedroom to get your guitar, racing back to begin playing.

*i actually wrote this song so please be nice lol*

“i wasn’t looking for much

i just came back,

and then i felt your touch

and the way you smiled,

made me think that maybe

this would be worth my while.

because i’m driving off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine,

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.

the next day we were in the car

you made me feel safe inside

then i showed you my guitar

i let you inside my mind

but i’m scared you’ll be the one to say no

the one to go

because i’m driving off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine,

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.

i don’t wanna see you go

don’t wanna be the one

to tell you so

because i can’t take the stress

of whether or not you’ll say yes

because...

i’ve driven off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine,

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.”

you bit your lip as you set the guitar down, taking a seat beside him on the couch slowly.

“that sounded great, y/n! you said you just wrote this? it’s really good!” he replied, a bright smile on his face, clearly unaware of the gravity of the song.

he didn’t understand the song was for him. about him.

“spencer... do you not get it?” you asked, closing your eyes in fear.

“get what? the song was really good, what’s there to get?” he replied.

“it was... the song... nevermind,” you smiled, finally opening your eyes to face him “thank you.”

if he didn’t understand it, you could always tell him later, perhaps.

the last night of your visit, your dad had gotten back from the case and joined you and spencer for dinner.

“so, have you finished that song you were working on, y/n?” your dad asked curiously.

“uhm...” you trailed off, the subject still a bit rocky for you.

“she has! it’s really good, she played it for me the other night,” spencer divulged.

“oh. that’s nice. care to play it once more?” he requested.

“right,” you took a deep breath. “sure, of course i can.”

so, you played it once more. you stayed focused on your strum patterns and the notes as you played.

“wow that was really good! are you thinking of releasing it?” your dad asked.

“well i’d have to talk to my manager about it, but i might,” you shrugged as you took your seat back at the table.

“what’s it about, if you don’t mind me asking,” you dad asked once more. “or... who’s it about?”

“why does it have to be about someone? maybe it’s just abut a feeling,” you sassed.

“well normally you don’t tell a feeling you should be theirs’,” spencer added.

“yea, yea, yea,” you rolled your eyes.

that night, you and spencer fell asleep yet again watching another movie in your bedroom. part of you was surprised your dad allowed spencer and you to get this close... but maybe he knew that he didn’t feel the same for you and your dad knew.

the next morning you finished packing so you could leave. it was a bittersweet moment, truly. you wanted to stay with your dad and spencer but you also wanted to follow your dreams.

you had already bid your goodbyes to your dad before he had to go into work. packing up the last of your bags in your car, because now you felt comfortable driving, you closed the trunk once more.

“y/n?” spencer called you back inside the house.

“yea, spence?”

“i’m going to miss you,” he smiled fondly. “i uhm, i wrote you this letter. and i just... can you read it once you’re on the plane?” he asked as he hadned you the letter, tears filling his eyes at the thought of you leaving.

“of course i can,” you smiled back. “don’t cry, doc. then i’ll cry,” you huffed out a laugh.

“i just, i don’t want you to go,” he replied, not realizing the irony of him saying that.

“i don’t want to go, but i need to do this,” you bit your lip. “i need to follow my dreams. but... i did say goodbye. that song? it was about you, spencer,” you felt the tear leave your eye, drip down your cheek. “i like you a lot, and i just didn’t really know how else to tell you other than writing a song.”

“y/n, i... the song... you want to be with me?” he asked in confusion.

“yea, i do. i really do,” you nodded sorrowfully. “but now i’m leaving and-”

his lips were on yours in an instant. his hands cradled your face like they once were as you sat in the car with him. you hesitated for a second before your arms flew around his neck, welcoming his lips once more. your tongue traced his bottom lip, seeking entrance which he eagerly allowed. it was harmonious, much like the song that brought you two to this moment.

until it was over. you pulled back slowly.

“wow,” you swallowed.

“yea... wow,” he replied not moving his eyes off of yours. “i just... i couldn’t let you leave without doing that at least once.”

“i’m glad you didn’t wait,” you smiled before removing your arms.

“but you’re still leaving...” he remembered, quietly announcing it as though you had forgotten.

“mmhmm,” you nodded your head. “i am...”

“and we can’t be together. because i’m about to graduate from the academy. and be a member of the bau. and i won’t have time for...” he realized with a look of sadness.

“you’re right. i’ll be touring and i barely have time for my dad,” you shrugged.

“so we agree?” spencer added. “this would never work?”

“we agree,” you turned around and started walking towards your car. “this would never work.”

you boarded the plane, fresh tears piercing your eyes as you sat in your seat.

he didn’t want you. he didn’t think you were worth fighting for. he didn’t think you were enough for him. he would rather face death than be with you, want you. he kissed you only to want to leave.

you felt terrible about yourself. part of you hated him. but every part of you couldn’t help but... love him.

but now it’s too late.

taglist:

@greenprisca

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #angst #song writer

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loupettes · 3 years

Text

I needed a little break from writing doomsday, and this came out today instead. I hope you enjoy some Nine/Rose fluff!

H I R A E T H

SUMMARY: Nine/Rose. After leaving the Doctor alone in his grief, Rose is still upset over what happened that day he left her and Mickey on that spaceship for Reinette. She goes to find him and confront him and her feelings, but runs into somebody she could never have imagined to instead.

TAGS: fluff, hurt//comfort, romance, missing scene

Read on AO3: hiraeth

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

***

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

She managed to not raise suspicion from the man opposite her when she sighed, but when her cup hit the table a little more forcibly than she had intended, Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Take it it’s still not a good time to ask?”

Rose threw him a glare; she was still quite irritated by his smug-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. “No, it isn’t.”

His brow pinched, and for a moment he looked sorry for her. Not in a pitiful way, but in a... sorry kind of way — except, he wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

“M’ gonna go for a walk,” she mumbled, the chair grazing loudly across the floor as she forced herself to her feet.

Mickey again looked as though he might say something, but again, thought better of it. But Rose was just irritated enough to ask,

“What?”

“Just… don’t go looking for him, okay?” he tried. “Give the man some space.”

Rose grunted. “He can have all the bloody space he wants.”

And with that, she left the kitchen. She was exhausted to recognise her feet were, unsurprisingly, steering her towards the control room, and she could feel with every step how regretful she was about to be if she reached that room. So she pulled every last piece of willpower she had left to stop in her tracks and think.

Should she go and talk to him? She folded her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek in deliberation. She was torn, because she wanted so desperately to talk to him — her friend above all else after all — but he had so horribly hurt her today that she was in half a mind to storm out of this TARDIS for good. She tried, she really did, to feel for him, and she took a step out of her own mind for just one moment to consider he had just lost somebody close to him. Even if her heart was breaking, it was at that thought that they shattered completely.

This was ridiculous, she thought, as her feet once more began to take her to the control room. He quite clearly wanted space, and Mickey only confirmed so much with his Manly Suspicions — seeing you right now isn’t going to make him feel any better.

She grunted, and her steps had a little more purpose to them now. Because it was so horrible to be the last person he wanted to see. He had never, not in their entire time together, been one to regret her presence, to make her feel like she was unwanted even just in a moment of grief.

Calm down, she thought, as she knew she was nearing the control room. The only thing that would make this a thousand times worse is if you burst into the control room in righteous rage.

So, she deliberately slowed down her pace as she wondered just exactly which approach she was going to take. But she found that, the closer she got to the control room, the less control she had over her intentions. So her footing sped up once more, and her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the control room.

She was more than disorientated, then, when the last person she expected to see was now standing in the exact same place as he was when she left him.

“Wha—”

He looked up at her with a frown, a frown she hadn’t seen in oh so many months, and she felt her heart sink to see that daft old, gorgeous, face. For a moment, she forgot that this was completely impossible, being so used to it these days after all, and her breath caught in her throat to see that terribly dusty old leather jacket, those baggy black scruffy trousers that seemed far too big for him and those eyes, good god those eyes were so bloody beautiful that she almost cried there and then to see them once more.

Those eyes that were currently looking back at her in utter bewilderment.

She shook her head and herself back to her senses. The Doctor quickly looked at the door at the end of the ramp and distractedly pointed to it, looking back at her once more in disarray. “What you doin’ there?”

His familiar yet somehow unexpected Northern accent seemed most alerting to her, and sparked the return of her own puzzlement.

“What are you doin’ there?”

“I just— you were— you said—” he stuttered, looking back and forth between her and the door. He seemed to only look to her for an explanation, which baffled her, because she was hoping he would explain. The two stared at each other in complete perplexity for a minute at least, before Rose was first to break the silence.

“This a trick?”

He blinked. “What?”

“This. You, here. The TARDIS trickin’ me or somethin’?”

“Why on Earth would the TARDIS be tricking you?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, folding her arms and resting her weight on one leg. “‘Cos you were a right knob today and maybe she thought I wouldn’t strangle you if you looked like that.”

He was surely stupefied by the force of her words. “Bloody hell, I saved your life today and that’s how you thank me?”

Her mouth hung agape at that, and she quickly scanned her memories today and confirmed, very quickly, that he had in fact not saved her life at any point today. Not even when he stumbled into her’s and Mickey’s capture, drunk, and toyed with the droids for a bit while they held a rather sharp blade to her throat before pouring whatever was left of his wine onto their heads; she was still too furious to consider that ‘saving her life’.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed incredulously, “Do tell me at what point today you so valiantly came to my aid.”

He echoed her scoff. “I said thank you—”

“You did not you little liar!”

“Bloody hell, you’re a lot snappier than you were five minutes ago!”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even here five minutes ago—”

“Which reminds me, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at him; quite clearly, they were going to go round in circles asking questions unless one of them tried to at least figure it out. She took a deep breath, and spoke aloud her thought process. “Right. So, obviously we’re not talking about the same thing, unless you experienced today completely differently to me — which actually might explain your behaviour—” she stopped when she felt her spine pricking with heat, and shook her head “— never mind. And unless the TARDIS is playing tricks on me, and you’re still, well, you, then we’re not — this isn’t—”

She sighed in frustration, still trying to understand the concept of time being relative — whatever that means. The Doctor seemed only to understand her, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I didn’t just offer you to come with me, did I?”

Her heart sank; of all the emotions she was feeling, of all the frustration at being in a situation unknown, of having her first reaction to a man she missed with everything she had being bewilderment over the absolute love she normally had to see his face, her only response was to breathe a very unsteady and deeply sorrowful,

“No.”

He nodded, again slowly. “But— and I’m losing my other leg to this one now— I’m assuming you, at one point, in fact, do end up coming with me?"

Her lips pulled tight as she fought back against saying or indicating anything that might trigger some sort of paradox at having run into a previous him and altering their future, and she sort of expected she might spontaneously vanish at any moment. Her lack of response must have affirmed his question, and his eyes grew wide.

“Crikey. Right then.”

“I should—“ she started, pointing behind her to the door but not really able to move there just yet “— I should probably, erm…”

He looked back at her for a moment, his brow still drawn in concern, before he gave her the smallest, yet still most warm smile that simply melted her.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

The relief she felt swept over her in a blanket so comforting that her feet all too easily took her to him, and she blurted, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

He grinned the most terribly beautiful toofy grin, but she didn't process in enough time — or care too much to do anything about — the look of slight panic when she practically tumbled into his arms, into a hold so comforting that she let out a small sob. She felt the relief, her whole body lightening and untightening to feel him, less skinny and tall and against the ever so soft fabric of a jumper rather than an oxford. She wished she could have seemed a little less desperate as she clung to him while he awkwardly — but sincerely — held her in return, but just having him there, against everything she understood to be possible, was the only thing she could possibly need right now and she felt alleviated.

“I’m probably breaking about eight hundred laws here but I literally don’t care anymore,” she mumbled, only half-jokingly, into his jumper, “You left me on a spaceship three thousand years into the future so you can fix it.”

“Oi!” he snapped, and she was relieved to hear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “I haven’t done anythin’, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, he can fix it.”

The Doctor had always known how to read her, even if she sometimes thought he didn’t. Even after little more than a day of having known her, to this him here now, he recognised her belligerence and only seemed to find it bemusing.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him then, if you can think he can fix anything.”

She sighed deeply into his jumper, against the sounds of his steady hearts beneath her ear that sounded different somehow, like they weren’t quite hers yet even if they were beating for her now.

“I really miss you.”

The truth in her voice sounded, even to her, so very pained. She wondered what he must be thinking, why this woman whom had only just turned him down now clung to him in the most ridiculous of ways, close to tears as she told him she missed him. But he didn’t ask questions, instead he only felt it, straight away, by the way his arms ever so slightly tightened around her to more resemble a hug she knew was only hers, and one only he could give her. But she could feel him awkward beneath her nonetheless, and ever so regretfully she pulled away, but not quite able to stop herself from reaching her palm to touch the side of his face as she took him in. All those hardened edges, that stubble and those lips and slightly wonky nose.

“Oh, we’re— okay, so there’s an awful lot of touching between us in the future,” he remarked.

She giggled, and drew her palm away to sit on the jumpseat, patting the spot next to her. “Well, yes, I think we can say that—” she frowned, and stopped herself “—wait, can I say that?”

She looked to him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Tell you what, if you start to fade out of existence, I’ll let you know, as long as you do the same for me. Deal?”

She chuckled, and shook the hand he had held out to her. “Deal.”

He sat down next to her, pinching his trousers and shuffling about to settle in a little more comfortably. She was relieved to know she hadn’t forgotten a single thing about him, which meant that she knew he was feeling most blindsided by her spontaneous and unprecedented visit, displaying a lot more familiarity with him than he, at that moment, had with her. For whatever reason, and she thinks she knows what, he was, for the time being at least, comfortable with putting aside his own reservations about the implications this might have on time and space if it meant that she could find comfort herself.

She gave him a shy grin. “So I turned you down then, hmm?”

“Great,” he tutted. “Nice to know it was me you said no to, and not the flying-through-space bit.”

She nudged herself to the side to bump his shoulder and chuckled. “Well, I’m here now, so you must have done something right.”

“Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, I haven’t done anything right today.”

It was a suggestion, an invitation to continue, if she wanted to.

The sinking of her heart at the reminder of her today was terrible. So terrible, in fact, that she couldn’t find her words, and only shook her head sadly in response. The soft sound of his leather jacket as his chest rose and fell to his sigh somehow made it all that much harder. When he started to awkwardly pick at the stray cotton string poking out at the knee of his trousers, she managed to find her smile.

“Mention the time bit,” she whispered, turning to look at him, and he looked back at her with his eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “That’s what does it for me, in the end.”

He chastised himself, “I didn’t— I didn’t mention the bloody time bit— well, no wonder you said no.”

“You completely messed up with that one,” she chuckled, closing her eyes to the deep and flat way he said ‘wonder’, and continued, “Actually, know what else you messed up with?”

“Wish I hadn’t bloody offered to stay and listen, now—”

“The regeneration thing,” she scoffed. “Didn’t want to mention that that happens at any point, no?”

“Regenerat— bloody hell, I’m being confronted by a lot of my future in one sitting.”

Her eyes widened at that, perhaps having gone too far, but he grinned.

“Na, it’s alright," he assured her in response. "Promise. I’m not so unused to running into myself in the future, I know how this works, don’t worry.”

Her lips curled into a bashful smile, knowing full well he almost certainly knew the consequences of learning of one’s own future and that, in next to no circumstances, was it a good thing. Still, he had this thing about him, this assurance that he would, somehow, make it okay, and she couldn’t deny his invitation.

“You— I mean— well,” she flustered, realising this was much more difficult that she would have thought. “He... yeah, no, you—”

“Say ‘he’,” he encouraged. “It’ll make it easier, promise.”

Again, with that word, with the softness in which he delivered it, she felt this unravelling as her shoulders loosened where she could just be her. She didn’t have to worry about sounding all clever, like she knew what she was talking about, and now she didn’t even need to worry about the implications of something she’s been told can never ever happen, because he was with her. She could barely keep herself together with it all, with how much she just missed him and wanted him back.

“It’s been a bit… it’s been quite hard. Between us, recently,” she admitted unevenly, but once she felt the relief that came with uncorking the ridiculously tight pressure throughout her whole body, she was powerless to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “You regenerated not too long ago and sometimes I think you’re still the same, and sometimes you— he —” she adjusted, it somehow feeling better to say ‘he’, now “— does things that are so… not you.”

There was a silence in the control room, besides the familiar hum which had of course not altered even within this nonsensical situation. It kept her quite steady, actually.

“He sounds a bit like a prat.”

“You’re not wrong, there.”

“Tell you what,” he began, squaring his shoulders. “Since I’m him and he’s me, why don’t you tell me what he did. I’ll see what I can help you with.”

She snorted. “Told me I was gonna — and I quote — ‘wither and die’, left me stranded on a spaceship three thousand years into the future, fell in love with some posh French woman and picked her over all of time and space, to name just the ones over the last twenty-four hours.”

The Doctor was quiet, and she just had to glance at his expression at that. He did indeed look overwhelmed, as she thought he might.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me — you sure you weren't just fooled into thinking he was?”

She snickered, although he wasn’t too far off her true musings at this point. “I think when you invited Mickey along, I should have clocked on.”

He really did jolt back in shock, then. “Rickey? As in that sad old sap out there, Rickey?”

“Mmm.”

“The one shaking like a bloody leaf and clinging onto your leg like a wuss?”

“That’s the one.”

He shuddered, and it only made her giggle more. “My god, what do I become?”

“Now you see my problem.”

“Alright, well, I can’t excuse the wither and die bit—” he paused, thinking “— nor the spaceship bit, I suppose. Or even the falling in love bit—”

“Fat lot of good, you are, then.”

“Oi! —” he poked her ribs “— You’re a lot less polite than I remember you being.”

Her smile was so wide that it ached; being here with him and laughing like before, before all the regenerations and the Sarah-Janes and the aristocratic French mistresses was a blissful healing of a wound she had long since thought had sealed up.

“I’m going to need some context over the wither and die bit,” he spoke quietly, a little jest still to his voice.

She frowned, honestly quite against the idea of reliving that conversation last night, and especially not when it was one with another, less recognisable, face than with the one next to her. “I dunno. I guess… I know what you—”

“He.”

She giggled, relieved, and he nudged her knee with his. “I know what he was trying to say, that his lifespan is a heck of a lot longer than mine, and it’s not as if it’s fun to watch us ‘wither and die’, as he so eloquently put it, but it still hurt. Almost like—” she scrunched her nose, thinking of what it was she wanted to say before she heard his calm and patient breathing, his breath and remembered who she was talking to “—like it’s so distasteful for him, that we grow old and all mangly and he just has to sit there and watch it and hope it gets over and done with quickly so he can move on.”

The Doctor was still beside her, his arms folded and leant back while she spoke. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when she looked up at him and saw his profile, his terribly large nose and sharp jaw, she all but melted into his side, tugging on his arm so that she could lean against him.

“He made me feel so bad for being human, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that.”

He was trying to keep himself still beside her, and she knew he most probably felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but the fact that he was keeping so still for her reminded her just how much he cared for her in the first place — right from day one.

“Christ, give him a slap for me when you see him again will you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She thought about the two of them, if they could meet tonight, and only loved the idea of this him squaring up on the new one for daring to hurt a woman he had known less than forty-eight hours. And she grinned to know that he would, as well, because she knew just how important she had been to him right from the start. He didn’t need to say it, and she felt it even now with a new face, that she was still the most important person to him.

Well, up until today, she had.

“Alright, so you say the spaceship thing—“

“Yep,” she affirmed, punctuating the ‘p’ with an indignant pop. “Rode on a horse through a time window, severed all links with the ship and the future.”

“And you say Rickey was with you?”

“Yeah! Left us both behind.”

He thought for a moment. “How’d you know he didn’t think you were on the back of the horse and he was only trying to leave Rickey behind” — she couldn’t help but laugh at his old dry humour that he carried off so effortlessly, something else she only now realised she missed —“cos I can tell you that seems the only reasonable explanation to that one.”

“God will you stop,” she insisted through her giggles, “Rick—Mickey is not that bad!”

“And on that,” he continued, seemingly unwilling to stop despite her persistent chuckles, “I really cannot explain his decisions behind asking Mickey to join us, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry.”

He had such a wonderfully deadpan humour, this one, and for a bloke that wasn’t actually from the North, he certainly could have fooled her. To some, he came off as cold and unaffectionate, but to her, he was hers; she knew his humour so well and had grown so fond of him and the ways in which he made her laugh, knowing that he was doing it deliberately as often as he could only to make her giggle more.

“Alright, and what was that last one?” he asked after a moment. “Something about some French woman?”

Ah, yes. That.

Perhaps he knew exactly what by the way she flinched at his words, because he didn’t follow it up with anything at first. He chose his words well, it would seem, when he prompted,

“Something absurd about choosing her over all of time and space, if I remember you right.”

She fiddled with cuticles around her nails, only realising now how hard it was to talk about — or even think about.

“Something like that.”

And with her sigh, she released her hold on him, withdrawing back into herself at the way everything about her seemed to clench in pain. He wasn’t too unused to it all, then, when she felt his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled softly at the gesture that did indeed loosen her a little, but he seemed to notice that it hadn’t entirely when he tapped her shoulder to bring her to lean back against him.

“Well, I will admit this new bloke seems like an absolute git, but I know I can speak for him when I say he doesn’t fall in love very easily at all.”

She swallowed, her throat so painfully tight. “Yeah, m’ starting to think the same.”

He was quiet, and she was really fighting against herself to not fall completely back in love with a man she knew was gone forever. She did love him though, this him, and she missed him so much that the pressure inside her only seemed to worsen until, finally, he spoke quietly,

“Who was she, did you say?”

She didn’t want to respond immediately, though the name rested just at the tip of her tongue, echoing around her mind as it had been all day. So she took a moment's pause before she replied, “Someone called Madame de Pompadour?”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled. “Eighteenth century? Uncrowned queen of France?”

Rose sighed heavily, before nodding her head.

“Sounds average,” he dismissed. “Meet one of them every day, I do. Don’t think it’s quite like either of us to fall in love with somebody so ordinary.”

She had to remind herself, as she had done so many times over the last twenty-four hours, that she was indeed only that: ordinary. Nobody different, nothing that made her stand out from the likes of Sarah Jane or bloody uncrowned queens of France and certainly not one the Doctor, the last remaining lord of time, would so easily fall in love with.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, a welcome disruption to her morose thoughts. “I should probably, er, go and find, well, you— time, was it, you said? That’s what’ll do the trick?”

She sniffed, reluctant to let him go, but she did loosen her hold to allow him free. “Time,” she affirmed.

As he stood, and she too, it all felt far too formulaic for them, even if he had only just met her very recently. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, to remember this meeting so sad, so she looked at him sheepishly with her arms hesitantly outstretched and said,

“Can I?”

He seemed to know exactly what she was asking when he pulled her in for a hug. It took them a moment of adjustment to settle; she being so used to his new more slender form, and he not being used to her at all. But when they did, when everything finally slotted into place and they were them once more, she exhaled and felt all that pain and anguish just… release. He didn’t take it from her, and she didn’t know where it went, but being here in his arms when she had thought she never could have been again felt like the most blissful recompense following such wretched and unjust anguish.

“I miss you,” she whimpered, holding on to him tighter.

“Rose?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a comfort in itself. “Mmm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah?”

“That bloke of yours,” he paused, and she realised it was for dramatic effect when he whispered, “he’s actually me.”

She giggled despite herself. “After everything I’ve told you about him, you still want to assign your name to him?”

“He does sound a bit like a prat, I’ll admit, but he must have done some good things, too, surely?” She shook her head begrudgingly into his chest. “You wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.”

She smiled sadly, and reasoned, “I suppose he did regenerate for me.”

“Blimey,” he flustered, genuinely quite surprised by the sounds of it. “I’ve regenerated many times before, and for many different reasons, but I can tell you never for somebody else.”

She smiled; although she had never really known exactly what happened on satellite 5, she had only managed to learn from him that it was to save her life. He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, she gathered, not because he regretted doing so, but in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Like he was afraid, almost — although of what, she wasn’t sure.

“You, Rose Tyler, must be quite extraordinary indeed.”

She held on to him only tighter as she felt his words find their home deep within her heart, in a way she knew they would never be able to be coaxed out of again by not even herself. And she knew the man she thought she was going to see tonight felt the same, really, if she was honest with herself. She realised, then, that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if he had said it in that estuary accent; it was specifically him saying it in this northern accent tonight that rang deep and true for both men.

And with that, she felt the imminent dread of knowing she needed to leave.

“I probably need to go tell him I’ve made some paradox, then,” she sighed jokingly, although a part of her wished she wasn’t. If she could only have this, this sweet memory of the two of them at a time where she needed to be reminded that it would always be just the two of them, then pulling away from him now might be less tortuous.

“No need,” he said, and then he tilted his head and whispered, “Looks like he’s already fixed it for you.”

She frowned, but even as she tried to process how he — the other him — could have possibly already done anything to fix this, her mistake, her desperate need to see her old friend and deepest love of her life just one last time in a time of such heartbreak, her heart swelled to know that of course he had.

“No paradox?” she whispered back, afraid anybody other than him might hear her.

He nodded, and she felt him kiss her hair. “No paradox, if he’s done it right. Now go, quick, before we find out if he hasn’t.”

#nine x rose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #loup.fic #dw fic

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alirhi · 3 years

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Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

#loki #loki spoilers #loki series #loki negativity #loki hate #thor 2011 #the dark world #ragnarok #the avengers #infinity war #endgame #fuck sylvie #fuck marvel #fuck disney #this show sucked #ragepost #rant #long post #ali is angry

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shutteredislands · 3 years

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REYLO MODERN AU FIC RECS

Hi!! I spent my entire winter break reading reylo fics and I feel like I’ve found some gems! I’m boring and don’t like angst, so most of these are pretty fluffy, however, always read the tags before reading. Anyways, happy reading!

Already Home - College, Roommates, A/B/O, Soulmates AU - Complete - Rated E - 79k

“Oh stop being all Alpha-y.” She flexes her foot, rolling her ankle as if to prove a point, and he doesn’t miss the wince that crosses her expression. “You aren’t my Alpha, and you definitely aren't my soulmate,” she mutters.

He can’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Thank god for small mercies.”

Okay so this is a trope fest but it was so good! I’m not gonna explain the plot in depth because I think going in blind is best for this!

Baby, It's Just Biology - Professor/Student, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 113k

For Rey Jackson, trying to finish your degree in Biomedical Science at Harvard is difficult enough when you're one of the few Omegas on campus.

It's made even more difficult when your Professor is the one to trigger your heat. You can't help it, it's just your biology.

An Alpha Omega love story.

This is the perfect balance of angst, fluff and pure smut. This one Is a lot angstier than anything else on this list, but you can see every stage of this relationship and I loved it so much! Please read the tags on this one!

I’ve got you (under my skin) - Nanny/Single Parent AU - On Hiatus - Rated E - 81k

“Hi, I’m Rey. I’m here for the—”

“Nanny,” Ben blurts out dazedly, still trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts. “You’re the nanny.”

Her smile hitches up a little wider. “Well, I might be.”

Suddenly, Ben thinks he might be in for a whole new world of problems.

Because Rey Johnson is still most likely the only thing standing between him and disaster, that much hasn’t changed, not by a long shot.

And Ben can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth.

In which Ben hires Rey to watch his son... but he can’t seem to stop watching her.

Okay so I almost never read WIPs, but this one was left off in a pretty good place so don’t worry about cliffhangers or anything. I am a sucker for single dad!Ben so expect more of these. I loved this fic so much and get ready for a SMUTFEST.

Light My Fire - Rivals to Lovers, College, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 20k

When rivals Ben and Rey break into a professor's office together, it comes out that Rey might not be the Beta she thinks she is.

I’ve never been the biggest reader of enemies to lovers, until this. This was so so so good! I loved their banter so much, and this is another smutfest lol.

Peacock - Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, Neighbors AU - Complete - Rated E - 72k

Thanks to a series of misunderstandings, failed attempts at flirting, and loud Katy Perry music, Ben grows to hate his new neighbor.

Proposing to her wasn't the best solution to his problems.

This is, hands down, one of the funniest fics I have ever read. I cried actual tears because of how funny this is. Slowish burn, but their banter will keep you engaged the whole time. I love this so much!!

An Unexpected Vacation - Scientist, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 62k

“You don’t care that someone, that people will watch you fuck?” He looks two seconds away from puking. “Like multiple, multiple people will be able to describe your vagina. They’ll probably analyze it in a boardroom. Someone will feel proud about a shitty PowerPoint full of annotated pictures. They will use words like ‘arousal fluid’ and consult charts and these things will never not be digitally saved. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Are you suggesting my vagina is unworthy of analysis?”

In which Rey attempts to bolster her bank account by volunteering to fuck an Alpha in a scientific study. Plans go pear-shaped when she accidentally triggers scientist!Ben’s first Rut.

This was a really funny smutfest and I loved that. I loved Rey and Ben so much, and Ben was the perfect “I hate everyone but you” boyfriend! I love this!

She Doesn’t Normally Bite - Single Parent/Teacher AU - WIP - Rated E - 37k

Ben Solo is a single dad to 6-year old Ellis. Her teacher isn't the old-cat lady that he expects and naturally, sparks fly when they meet. Rey helps show Ben that he is allowed to be happy and the romance is DELICIOUS. There will be the happy ending we all deserve.

Both Ben and Rey have a lot to navigate, and of course - things are never straight forward.

Tw: Bens wife died when their daughter was born - whilst it is mentioned periodically, it does not form a significant part of the story. There'll also be warnings in the notes for the particular chapters it'll be mentioned in.

THIS THE ONLY WIP I WILLL EVER READ REY AND BEN ARE SO FREAKING CUTE AND ELLIS IS SUCH A CUTE KID AHHHHHHH! That is all.

Down an Inch, Up an Inch - A/B/O, Soulmates, Gym Rats AU - Complete - Rated E - 60k

Omega instructor Rey has always been the master of her domain at Rebel Belle Barre and wouldn't dream of dating an Alpha.

When her new neighbors at Supremacy Bootcamp start ruining her classes with their terrible music, she storms over to give them a piece of her mind. She challenges the beefy ex-Marine owner Ben Solo to a plank-off and the loser has to take the other's class. When they spark an unusual connection, can Rey stay away for long?

Has she bitten off more than she can chew with the gentle giant Alpha with the warm, sad eyes?

SMUT FREAKING FESTTTTT. Okay but I loved these two so much, even though I am opposed to working out in any shape or form! I love the non-traditional soulmate part, and I really loved Rey in this.

Tea for Two - Enemies to Lovers, University Setting AU - Complete - Rated E - 67k

'"This is a tea house, you know." The plummy, ultra-posh voice startled Rey Kenobi from her day-dreaming, almost spilling the scalding hot coffee over her chest.'

Rey, an American former hacker, turned cyber security expert, has been commissioned by Oxford University to protect their systems from hackers. Unfortunately, she has to work closely with Professor Ben Solo, Merton Professor of English Literature who also happens to be Lord Ben Solo, member of the English peerage. And an unmitigated snob.

She drinks coffee. He drinks tea. He only reads classic literature. She reads Marvel comics. He is nobility. She is a nobody.

Things should go swimmingly, shouldn't it?

SO. MUCH. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. I loved the slow burn aspect because I sat in bed because I was waiting for them to bone for so long. And after they bone its a smut and fluff-fest I loved this so much!

And They Were Roommates - Roommates, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

“This isn’t going to work.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.”

Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.”

She knows what he means, she does—but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?”

His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.”

In which Rey’s new roommate turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for.

EVEN. MORE. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. Like these two would be eating cereal and I would be chanting, “bone! bone! bone!” the whole time. I loved these two, and the family aspect of this one was so good.

Imprints - A/B/O, Boss/Employee AU - Complete - Rated E - 74k

“I was happy you’ll be working with someone you know. He’ll take good care of you.”

Take good care of you.

The words send a shiver down her spine, sparking memories that flood her with embarrassment. She feels a strange itch just below her ear, her gland giving a phantom pulse as if her body remembers the incident even still.

Suddenly her triumph fades into dread, the idea of working here leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. Poe is still talking, but she doesn’t hear most of it. Her mind is firmly trapped in the vivid memories of six years ago— in a moment she wishes she could forget.

By the time she hangs up the phone— she isn’t sure anymore if she can do this.

Okay so this is pretty popular so I wont say too much, but it lives up to the hype. Smutfest, fluff and angst rolled into one beautiful fic!

Bespoke - Enemies to Lovers, Boss/Employee (?) AU - Complete - Rated E - 38k

When new stylist Rey Jackson receives a request to dress the hottest (and most unfashionable) new actor in Hollywood, she gets a lot more than she bargained for.

Mentally AND physically.

Because Ben Solo is freaking massive.

THIS WAS SO HOT OMG! Smutfest but also super cute. Another “I hate everyone but you” version of Ben I fell in love with. Loved this!

Incognito - Coworkers AU - Complete - Rated E - 30k

“Somehow Rey’s coworkers find out about her Daddy kink. They all kink shame her for it, except her coworker Ben. He has something else in mind.”

This was so funny! Ben and Rey were so cute, and I love Finn and Rose in this too! This was great!

A Home For Christmas - Single Parent, Sugar Daddy AU - Complete - Rated E - 109k

Rey is a struggling single mother who needs to do right by her daughter, even if it means she needs to steal. Ben is sad and lonely, recently divorced for the second time. When Rey's daughter picks him to help her find her mom, their paths cross and their Christmas becomes a little more bright.

This was so freaking cute OMG!! I know I say that a lot, but this was so adorable! I loved Ben and Rey so much, but Nova was obviously the star of the show. I cannot recommend this enough!

Unsuppressed - Office, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

Rey had only ever encountered two Alphas in her entire life that had been unsuppressed. And now this third one that stunk up the entire building. Not that it stunk, his scent. In fact, it was the most delicious thing Rey had ever smelled. ///////////////////////////////////// Ben Solo closed his eyes as he rode down the elevator from the 40th floor to the lobby, trying not to reach up to his glands to scratch them. Somehow, it felt like he always caught the elevator that was dripping in the Omega’s scent. The one that wandered around the building without any suppressants. The one that smelled better than any Omega he had ever smelled before.

STRAIGHT FLUFF AND SMUT OMFG!!! I loved this so freaking much! This was whatever the opposite of unresolved sexual tension and slow burn. Like Ben and Rey tried to make this a slow burn but they could not keep their hands off of each other. I loved this!

Sunshine and Gunpowder - Hitman, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 48k

She’s a teacher who would do anything to protect her student. He’s a glorified hitman with a heart of black gold.

Together, they make up odd halves of a beautiful whole.

THIS WAS SO CUTE!! Like, yes, I know Ben is a hitman, but when I tell you he was the softest hit man I have ever read, Temiri was so cute in this! I loved Ben and Rey, and their UST made me love them even more. Han and Leia are also hilarious in this!

It Takes a Village - A/B/O, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 40k

Who knew that all it would take for Rey Johnson to interact with her enigmatic Alpha neighbor without wanting to melt into a puddle of hormones was a baby being abandoned at her doorstep?

Not her. That was for sure.

THIS IS THE CUTEST ONE YET! I REREAD THIS QUITE OFTEN! LIKE AHHHHHHH SO FREAKING FLUFFY! NOT EVEN A WHISPER OF ANGST AND A LOT OF SMUT I LOVED THIS SO FREAKING MUCH AHHHH! AND THE EPILOGUE MADE ME CRY!

Sensual Storytime - Office AU - Complete - Rated E - 23k

When Rey Johnson starts a new job, her initially antagonistic relationship with Ben Solo from IT turns into friendship... and maybe something more.

Little does she know he also moonlights as Kylo Ren, the creator of her favorite audio erotica. One day at the office, worlds collide, and she realizes the sweater vest-wearing nerd of her dreams is also the tattooed fantasy man she listens to while getting off every night...

THIS IS MY FAVORITE REYLO FIC EVER. I RECOMMEND THIS TO PEOPLE WHO DON’T EVEN LIKE STAR WARS! THIS IS COWORKER BANTER LIKE NO OTHER. AND THE SMUT ? UNPARALLELED. READ THIS NOW!

That is all I have time for right now, but I’ll make another list later if anyone would like that! Please take care of yourself and have a great day!

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alia-turin-fanfiction · 3 years

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Title: The Ghost on the Shore

Rating: Mature

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Additional Tags: Loss, Memory Loss, ghost - Freeform, Haunting, Death, Sorrow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Summary: A human walks trough the beach, looking for shells and accidentally fins a ghost everyone on her village has been talking about. She ends up hearing the ghost' story, his grief and regrets, his memories about the family he has lost and the sacrifices he had made.

She walked down the shore, picking shells and digging through the cold sands, trying to find the largest. The wedding was just a week from now and she could barely find the shells she needed to make the decorations and the jewellery. Her eyes turned west, the sun was almost through and darkness would come soon. She had to go back, but that was when a song caught her ear. She looked around, but there was no one, yet the song rose with the waves and disappeared in the wind. She started walking in the direction of the song but with every step she doubted that was even real. Perhaps there was a strange echo at night, but she knew that was not true. That was an actual voice, the most enchanting voice she had ever heard in her life.

Time passed and she found herself at the furthest point of the beach she had ever been. It would take her an hour to get back home and the sun was gone now. Stupid girl, following the unknow. Then she saw it. A shape, maybe a man walking towards her. He was wearing robes that one time might have been blue, but now they were bleached from the sun and salt, mud and old sand was covering them, the fabric torn to ribbons in some places. She knew what that was. The old fishermen talked about it. The shore ghost, he could summon storms with his voice and drive sailors mad. She stepped back but she tripped on her own foot, as all the shells she had collected fell in the sand. She panicked. Damned be the shells, if that ghost could call the storm, what was he to do with her? In panic she started picking the shells, as fast as she could, she might not pick all of them, but as many as she could and then she should run. Run as fast as possible, in the night, in the darkness, until she reached her home.

“I had a brother once.” a strange voice spoke and she froze. Her eyes traced the sand to the man’s feet, he had no shoes, the skin was dry. She lifted her eyes, her teeth grinding in fear. She expected to see a terror, maybe a torn face, visible bones, gore and blood. Old fishermen said the ghost died in a storm, a ship mast hit his face and killed him, and now he wanted to do that to everyone. There was no mast nearby, but she was sure he could find something.

His face was not gore, however. Long black hairs reached way past his shoulders, his lips were cracked the same way she saw sailors’ lips cracked if they spent too much time in the wind. His cheeks were hollow, she could see the outlines of his skull, but it was still covered in porcelain skin. Long dark circles surrounded his eyes as if he had not slept for days.

“Yes.” he continued talking as he knelt, her heart was beating so fast, this ghost was going to kill her and she felt paralized. Was that his way? Was that how he did it? “He was fair, my brother. Fairer than most, at least on the outside. His heart...never mind his heart. It’s gone now, like all of them.”

She was so scared that only now she noticed that he was an elf, not human, but he was the strangest elf she had seen. Their kind sometimes came to the village to trade, but he was taller than almost any elf she had seen, his eyes were shining like gems, as unnatural as elves eyes were to her, his were completely different. Grey, cold and shining like stars.

Maglor reached for his forehead and rubbed his temples. These headaches were terrible, he would wake up and his head would be pulsing, splitting his skull in half. If he were a braver man he would smash his head in a stone and be done with it, but he could not face what came after. No, he was where he was supposed to be.

Something in front of him moved, and just now he realized he was not alone. His eyes fell on a human female, lying in the sand looking at him with terror in her eyes. He did not remember how he came to where he was. He looked behind himself. The cave where he slept was nearby, but he did not recall walking here and even seeing anyone. He was close to the human, he must have bumped into her or something but he could not recall.

“Who are you?” he got up, patting the sand of his robes. Not that it really mattered, more sand will just get stuck to him tomorrow.

The woman crawled back, shells falling from her grip, she was trying to get as far as possible from him. Maglor reached for her, offering her his hand, but then she screamed and started crawling backwards faster.

“Wait.” She made a step toward her trying to stop her, but it was too late. She hit her head on a rock behind her.

He had not done fire in a while. He was surprised he remembered how to do it. The darkness and coldness were part of him now so he did not need the light. Besides, he hated looking at the fire. Every time the flames danced he would see Maitimo, mad and broken. His eyes were fixed on the human, she was starting to awaken. Her hands reached for her head, where she had hit the stone. Slowly her gaze fixed on her and then a scream followed. The cave echoed, carrying her voice in the darkness.

“Don’t kill me, please.” she cried, trying to push herself further from him, but instead her back hit the cold stone walls.

“Kill you?” Maglor scratched his hollow cheek. “If I wanted you dead I could have left you on the sand. You would have bled to death or the wolves would get you.”

“Where am I?” His words did not seem to calm her, her body was still tense, her eyes looking around, trying to find escape. Funny, her hair reminded him somehow of Celegorm’s.

“In a cave.” Maglor answered, trying not to dwell on his dead brother’s looks. “You hit your head, I took you in.” That did not seem to calm the human. She was young, he had lost the ability to tell their age, there was a period when they all looked as if they could be sixteen or thirty. “What is your name?” she hesitated, but her eyes finally focused on him, not on everything else around. “If you want to leave, you can, but it’s dark outside and you humans have terrible sight.”

“Elean.” she finally responded. “My name is Elean. Are you a ghost?”

“A ghost?” Maglor was about to deny it but then he thought about it. He was a ghost. A shell of what he used to be, he wasn’t dead however, but he was not alive either. “Something like it.”

“The fishermen say you can call a storm.” her body relaxed a bit but she was still trying to keep away from him.

He winced. These days he could barely walk or sing, if he could call a storm that would make for good entertainment, his father might even be proud of him for once. If his father was alive and not an ashen pile or a prisoner of his own darkness.

“I’m afraid I posses no such power.” silence followed, but he could not stop thinking about how he found her. For the life of him he could nor recall how he ran into that human. It wasn’t uncommon for him to find himself wandering and forgetting how he got there, but usually he just thought he walked the sands and sang and his mind wandered. She was the first human he had seen in years and it wasn’t that he randomly saw her. He was kneeling in front of her as if he had been talking to her. “How...did you find me?'' He wasn’t sure that was the right question, but he had no idea what the right question was. He had no idea what anything was.

“I was picking shells and I heard a song...I followed the song and I saw you.” she responded slowly as if she was talking to a child unsure if her words made sense. “Then you came to me and you spoke of your brother.”

“My brother?” something in Maglor’s chest shrank. He did not remember that. How could he mention his brothers and not even remember that? “What did I say?” he asked. His voice betrayed his own fear and confusion. “What did I say?!” she shouted and she pulled back again, the fear returning.

“You...said he was fair. Fairer than most. On the outside.” her voice was shaking, her eyes frantically looking for an exit again.

He wasn’t surprised at his words, but he could not remember saying them. Why would he talk about Celegorm to a human he had just met.

“What else did I say?” his voice was calmer, but there was still that strange feeling in his chest. He did not remember any of that.

“Nothing...you said he was gone. That they were all gone.” her shoulders sank again, more relaxed. “Who are they?”

Maglor ignored the question, he had other things to worry about. His life was not worth anything for all he cared, but his mind. That was the last thing he had left. What if he was forgetting other things? Not just how he got from here to there, but what if he was forgetting who he was...what if he forgets Maitimo and Kurvo...all of them, his father, his mother. No, he could not forget them, if he forgets them, who will sing about their sacrifice, who will remember them as they truly were not as the stories made them to be?

“I was a king once.” he finally spoke, he could see in her eyes that she did not buy that. “No. I was a son of a king, then a brother of a king, then a king and then I was just me. I watched my brother burn.” his eyes stopped on the fire. He didn’t really see Amrod burn, he didn’t even know that had happened, not until Maedhros had told him. “My father set him on fire. He didn’t know.” Maglor bit his lip, the cracked skin broke under his teeth and he could taste his blood. “Then my father died and my brother was captured.”

He would never forgive himself for these years. The moment he became a king, the moment he dared take Maedhros’ place. He was broken, but in his head he thought he could do better. He would be a greater king than the great Feanor, he would be kinder than his father, more patient, he would listen rather than act...it was all rotten. His brothers barely listened to him and only when he agreed with them they did as they were told. His cousins did not want to hear about his rights and he sank. Every day was worse than the previous until Maitimo was back. Maglor did not cry when he left his wife and he did not cry when Amrod died, but that day, next to his brother’s sickbed he cried. Not of sadness, he was happy Maedhros was back, and he was happy the burden would be taken off him, but of shame. He had been too worried to be better than his father, he needed to prove he was a son of Feanor and better than the man, better than his brothers and he never even tried to save Maitimo. His brother bled and suffered and struggled and Maglor did nothing.

“My brother came back and did what I should have done. Took the crown off and gave it to someone who would wear it with pride.” years passed, friends and kin died, but it did not matter. He was with his family and his family, despite who they were and what they did was his family. Maedhros - proud and strong, with his ghostly nightmares haunting his own fortress. Celegorm, handsome and strong like any woman’s dream with the poison dripping off his heart. Caranthir, avoiding all of them, scheming away, Curufin, the copy of their father, his words and deeds making everything rot and despair and Amras, poor Amras who lost half of himself on these cursed ships.

“I had six brothers.” he continued talking, the human was looking at him with interest now. “They were great, cursed, but they were all I had. One by one they died. One in an accident, three as they were butchering our own kin, one trying to save our last hope and…”

He should have died. When Maedhros threw himself in the fire, he should have followed. He should have thrown himself in the sea and died there, but he could not. He was a coward.

“You are not a ghost.” the woman finally said.

“I am. A ghost of what I used to be, a ghost of what I was supposed to be. The ghost of my brothers’ memories and deeds, my father’s ambitions, my mother’s disappointment. I’m a ghost. But I also bleed.” Maglor licked his lips as if to illustrate his point.

In the morning Elean woke up, the elf was gone and she could see the light coming from the entrance of the cave. Her heart was heavy for that creature she found or more found her. He wasn’t a ghost, just a mad starved elf, living alone. She walked out trying to remember every stone, every dune so she can find her way back tomorrow. She would bring him food and maybe blankets.

#the simarillion #maglor #makalaure #tolkien #ghost #my writing

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Fic Recs: Thunderbirds

A while ago I did a Scott!whump Fic Rec. This time there’s no theme. Just Thunderbirds! Characters and genres vary wildly.

Got put in the mood to do this the other week, and after trawling through all my AO3 bookmarks/FFN favourites, and then the archives themselves because I’m terrible and forget to save fics, here are a bunch of my personal favourites. As always, only complete fics feature (there are many fantastic ongoing ones, but I’m lazy and don’t like having to update fic statuses).

This list is also long. 100+ fics long. So it’s under a cut to save everyone’s sanity. There’s also a spreadsheet version of it that I’ll make available if you wanna search by character/genre/universe etc.

Ratings are all using AO3′s Gen/Teen/Mature, so for FFN “K+” fics, I shoved them in either Gen or Teen, depending on my personal opinion. Likewise, genres are done using FFN’s method for conciseness, so AO3 ones I just kinda guessed. Only the major characters are listed.

I’ve tagged (attempted to tag, tumblr please behave) authors where I know their tumblr. If there’s any I haven’t tagged that anyone knows, let me know!

And one last thing before the recs: If there’s anything in particular you want recs for, whether it be a character, a theme, a trope, a fandom, etc. just let me know and I’ll see about putting one together!

Δv/Δt by @tb5-heavenward [Gen; Family; John, Scott; 4k] Deceleration is a function of velocity over time.

A Break In Routine by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 15k] They put themselves in danger time and time again. That doesn't mean they can always walk away from it again though.

A Father by rosefields [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Jeff; 3k] Scott Tracy has been under a lot of pressure since his mother died. But he can cope, it’s not a problem. Jeff know that, his oldest is strong and capable and he doesn’t need his father. Right?

A Guide to Valentine's Day (and how to exploit it) by Silverstar [Gen; Friendship; John, Penelope; 1k] In which John and Penelope pretend to go on a date to make the most of the discounts offered on meals for couples, because Valentine’s Day is about all kinds of love, including the platonic kind. A Seed Once Sown by @darkestwolfx [Gen; Friendship/Humour; Ned, Tracy Family; 4k] Believe it or not, they did have a garden on Tracy Island. It looked a little like a… tip. And that was being kind. A Son By Any Other Name by @space-baegel [Teen; Family/Angst; Scott, Tracy Family, Penelope; 83k] [AU] Cursed as a child, Scott Tracy lives a life in which everyone he encounters must follow all of his given commands. A Summary of Events by PanicPixieDreamGirl [Teen; Family; Tracy Family, Kayo; 3k] This is best described as ‘a look at how IR might function in the real world’ except obviously it’s not quite the real world because it’s several decades in the future and also after a war. A Typical Morning by @louthestarspeaker [Gen; Family/Humour; Tracy Brothers; 6k] The Terrible Two are scheming, Virgil just wants to be sleeping, and the brothers are faced with a bit of a situation. A typical morning in the Tracy household.

Access Denied // The Subject of Virgil by @gumnut-logic [Mature; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 5k // 8k] He found a way. All Alone by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Grandma; 5k] Scott reaches breaking point for looking after his brothers so Grandma Tracy takes charge of the situation, and her son. Babies and Brothers by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 3k] He may grow into the world's most protective big brother, but even Scott needed time to get used to the idea of younger siblings. Back Story by @thunderbirdcarebear [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 6k] That rock slide while rescuing Kat Kavanaugh has left Scott with more than just a few bruises. Bedtime by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Scott; 1k] “They’re my family.” Bring Our Starman Home by @lenle-g [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; John, Scott; 28k] When a meteor hits Thunderbird 5 while shields are down, the Tracy family think John is dead for sure. Scott has prepared himself to fly up in TB3 with Alan to retrieve a body, for John couldn't possibly still be alive after that... could he? Bruised by @gumnut-logic [Gen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 2k] Sometimes the prescription is simple, if unexpected. Buckle by Teobi [Gen; Family; Scott, Grandma; 1k] She finds him sitting at his father's desk, when everyone else has gone to bed. Candy Strippers by Chobrowny [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Gordon; 1k] The boys are unintentional candy stripers, visiting a childrens hospital in IR gear. Career Day by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Outside PoV, Alan; 7k] It is Career Day at school for eleven year old Alan Tracy. He has just lost his father. Who will he invite? Communications by nhsweetcherry [Gen; Adventure/Humour; Tracy Brothers; 4k] Random, short snippets of conversations between the guys. Some funny, some more serious. Coping Mechanism by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; Virgil, Gordon, Scott; 7k] “I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause. “And I miss him, okay?” Dare To Hope by i_amnerd [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, John; 1k] Not for the first time, Scott wishes that little brothers came with some kind of training manual or instruction booklet. Denied by @thunderstorm-bay [Teen; Family; Gordon; 4k] Gordon is frustrated after "Deep Search" and "City Under The Sea". Different by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; John, Kayo; 2k] John Tracy is different. Dinosaur Dilemma by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Adventure; Gordon, Alan; 14k] Never in a million years would International Rescue have thought they would be rescuing victims from dinosaurs. Alan's excited, Virgil is... well, Virgil, John's out of his element, and Gordon is terrified. Edge of the World // Here Be Dragons by Corbyinoz2 [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Adventure; Gordon, Virgil, Scott; 47k // 114k] When returning from a rescue mission, Thunderbird Two is attacked by an unknown force. As Virgil and Gordon plummet towards the ocean, their chances of survival will depend, as it always does, on each other. Every time it snows by allandmore [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Gordon; 5k] A simple mountain rescue goes wrong for International Rescue. Gordon battles the elements and his memories, and Scott has a tough decision to make. Exhaustion by @sugar-fiend [Teen; Suspense/Angst; Alan, John, Scott; 9k] A rescue mission in space is interrupted with deadly consequences… Expected & Unexpected by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Gordon, Virgil, Scott; 1k] He had brothers. It was inevitable, but sometimes unexpected. Facts of Life by Kaeera [Teen; Drama; Scott; 5k] There are some situations – lying on a floor in a pool of your own blood, for example – that really put things into perspective. Famous Last Words by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott; 2k] All Scott wanted was for everyone to be quiet so nothing else could go wrong. That was apparently too much to ask. Fires of Adversity by NKala99 [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Alan; 39k] Not everyone is supportive of Alan’s new and improved attitude towards school. First Times by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family/Humour; Scott; 3k] In which Scott forgets the speed of Thunderbird One, Virgil and John come up with a new form of torture and Gordon is after revenge. Just a normal day in the Tracy household then. Five Times Alan Flew Another Thunderbird by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Alan; 61k] ...and the one time he didn't. Five Times The Floor Was Not Lava by Silverstar [Gen; Humour/Family; Tracy Brothers; 5k] ...and the one time it was. Flat Packed by @hedwigstalons [Gen; Humour; Scott; 600] A simple mission leaves Scott minus two brothers and plus one headache Game On by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 12k] As their future Field Commander, it was up to Scott to make sure his brothers were ready for duty - physically as well as mentally. Grudgingly Human by Yarnaholic [Mature; Angst; Scott; 4k] Scott faces some old demons while trying to talk down a man standing on a building ledge after a rescue. He Is, They Are by ThatGirlSix [Teen; Family; Tracy Brothers; 90k] Fixing what was wrong with their family was going to take longer than the span of a Disney movie, but they'd get there eventually. They lived on an island. It wasn't like there was anywhere else to go. He's WHERE? by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Virgil, Scott; 1k] Virgil's reaction to finding out that the Hood is in Thunderbird Two... His Part by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family, Angst; Scott, Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 4k] It started off as a mild annoyance. Holiday From Hell by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family, Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Jeff; 158k] It was supposed to be the break they all needed to put the last year behind them and take a step forward. But things never do work out that easily for the Tracys. Homecoming by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, John; 2k] There are times when only a big brother can help. When something seems to be on John's mind, Scott steps up to the challenge. I Dream of Genie by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Friendship; Penelope, Gordon; 50k] Penelope stumbles across a treasure that could bring more frustration than she bargained for. Illusion of a Saint by AlternateReality1 [Teen; Spiritual/Suspense; Scott, Hood; 92k] There’s an enemy admist their ranks. He’s hidden in plain sight. The question is… when will the illusion be shattered? In Enemy Hands by Claudette [Gen; Adventure, Drama; Scott, John; 62k] When the secrets of International Rescue are offered for sale to the highest bidder the Tracy family must act quickly. However, their secrets are not the only thing that is at stake. In The Trunk by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 1k] “Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” It Wasn't Me! by @janetm74fics [Gen; Family; Gordon, Scott; 3k] It's not like it isn't the first time Gordon had accidentally hurt one of his brothers, but this time? When his dad doesn't believe him Gordon decides to find the one person who will make everything better. John Tracy hated taking public transport by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Friendship; John; 2k] Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him. Sometimes this was not possible. Because sometimes they spoke to him. Just Another Rescue by teddy0bear [Gen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Virgil; 16k] A rescue turns into a hostage situation Just Let It Go by @angelofbenignmalevolence [Gen; Family; Scott, Gordon; 1k] Scott was just trying to get a little work done. Alan and Gordon were working on Alan's schoolwork. What could possibly go wrong? La tarte aux pommes d'or by Yarol2075 [Gen; Friendship; Scott, Mechanic; 400] Scott needs to thank the Mechanic - it really shouldn't be so hard. Labyrinth by TB's LMC [Mature; Horror/Supernatural; Scott; 12k] One minute Scott Tracy’s at Mobile Control directing a rescue. The next, he’s in a fight for his life. Line 'Em Up Bartender by @madilayn [Teen; Friendship; Scott, John, Colonel Casey; 800] Scott, John and Colonel Casey find a way to cope with one of Jeff's speeches at a Charity Function. Living Like Kings by CLynnB [Gen; Family; Tracy Family; 35k] The world wants to know more about the Tracy brothers. So Lady Penelope takes it upon herself to show the world just who they are. Through YouTube. Making Changes by @madilayn [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Tracy Brothers; 17k] Jeff Tracy has gone missing and International Rescue has to make some changes to cope with this. Merman by @janetm74fics [Gen; Family; Gordon; 700] He'd always wanted to be a merman. Ever since he was old enough to swim and read, his life had been filled with the sea and the things in the sea. A twist of fate may just give him that wish. Missing Scene: The Uninvited by Juud18 [Gen; Family; Scott; 2k] In between Scott being found by Lindsey and Wilson, and the scene where Scott, TinTin, Virgil, Brains, and Wilson and Lindsey are sitting at the campfire. Mission Impossible by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Gordon; 55k] Being selected for his first solo mission should have been exciting for Captain Scott Tracy of the Air Force. But there was something else at play. Something dangerous and deadly. Something that could cost him more than his life. Monsters in the Dark by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 3k] Scott was used to checking for monsters to keep his little brothers happy. He just wasn't so used to actually dealing with said monsters. More Than I Bargained For by puppetonalonelystring [Teen; Action/Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 13k] Scott attends a Yale reunion party thinking that it cannot turn out any worse than the last one. Unfortunately, things are never simple for the Tracy brothers - when things turn complicated for Scott he has to depend on his brothers to help sort the situation out, or the secrets of International Rescue will be exposed Never Too Late // Never Too Lost // Never Too Long by @loopstagirl [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Jeff; 58k // 75k // 138k] As the family deal with grief, Scott must face his fears and grow up, whilst Jeff battles between being dad and being a successful businessman. But what will it take to bring the two of them back together again? On Their Side by @gumnut-logic [Gen; Family/Humour; Colonel Casey, Gordon, Virgil; 1k] She trusted these boys with a great deal. Once In A Blue Moon by WhatHaveWeDone [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, John; 3k] It was an aligning of the planets when John and Virgil got to work together. Out of Your Mind // All in Your Mind by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Gordon, Tracy Family, Hood; 75k // 149k] They can defy the odds and snatch people from the jaws of death on a daily basis. But sometimes, not all dangers come in a physical form. Over and Out by @thunderbirdcarebear [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott; 5k] An incident at an earthquake rescue leaves Scott frustrated when he’s injured. Parameters by @drdone [Teen; Family; Scott, John; 1k] “Just pretend to be my date” with John and Scott - in a non-shippy way. Picnic by ThatGirlSix [Teen; Family; Gordon, Virgil; 13k] Every Tracy has a type of job they hate, be them car crashes, hotel fires, mine collapses, whatever. Gordon absolutely hates tornadoes with a passion. No, really, he hates tornadoes. His life would be so much better if they never did another tornado job ever again. The rest of the family is starting to think so, too. Plus One Tracy by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour; Tracy Brothers, Kayo; 2k] So which Tracy is right for you? Pranks and Tempers by shadowfox8 [Teen; Angst/Family; Alan, Scott, Gordon; 8k] It was only supposed to be an innocent prank, but Gordon didn't bargain for more. Questions Like A Whirlwind by @darkestwolfx [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, John; 6k] He couldn't put it into words. He wasn't sure they'd understand if he did. He felt like a child, he felt like a murder, he felt… like he'd lost something and had no clue how to put it back in place by himself. Rescue by taralynden [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Drama; Scott; 26k] On the way home from a rescue, Thunderbird One crashes and it’s up to Scott’s family to save him. Scott Series: Fallen Brother by QuestRunner [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Alan; 11k] In a rare chance to bond with his youngest brother, Scott takes Alan with him on a simple mission to repair a damaged satellite. With tempers running high, the boys find themselves arguing over the roles they play in International Rescue. When Alan slips off a cliff, it’s up to Scott to save his brother and mend their broken relationship. Scott Series: Hidden Pain by QuestRunner [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Virgil; 4k] Scott suffers from a mysterious pain in his abdomen, but continues to push the limits on and off the field. Scott Series: Negative Split by QuestRunner [Teen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Virgil; 6k] Scott recruits Virgil as his fellow running partner for an upcoming 10K. When a mission takes a turn for the worst, Scott must put his running skills to the test before his whole world comes crashing down around him. Second Helpings by mcj [Mature; Family/Romance; Gordon, Alan, Grandma, Tin-Tin; 10k] Gordon Tracy's point of view of a VERY precarious romantic situation! Second Round by @darkestwolfx [Gen; Family/Humour; Virgil; 4k] All he wanted was a shower. Why did shopping have to be so complicated? And why did he always end up going? Next time, Scott could be lumped with the responsibility, smaller craft or not. Shattered by @singmetothesun [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Gordon; 2k] One Tracy brother leaves his feelings bottled up, until the smother hen catches him out. Shiver // Smacked by @loopstagirl [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott; 44k // 4k] When one of the Thunderbirds is infecting with something deadly, will the rest of the Tracys be able to save one of their own? Or are they about to be torn apart by grief again? Sidelined by @drdone [Gen; Family; Scott, Alan; 1k] Scott's sidelined for the time being and decides to ask Alan about college. Six Point Five by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 1k] “So, Mr Tracy, on a scale of one to ten how would you rate the pain you are in?" Sky Candy by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour/Family; Virgil, Scott, Gordon; 4k] It was a pterodactyl sized bird. Possibly an elephant with wings. Sleeping Wounded by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Fischler; 14k] Scott Tracy punched Langstrom Fischler. Sometimes by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott; 1k] Sometimes, Scott hates being the oldest. But are there some hidden perks... Stuck Like Glue by @drdone [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 2k] Scott is stuck to Virgil like glue. Literally. Summonings by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 2k] Alan isn't the only one in trouble at the beginning of Spring Break in regards to the 'birds. Swamped by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Gordon; 1k] So here he was standing in his undershorts on top of his 'bird in the middle of the ocean for all nearby female aristocrats to see. Take a minute by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Scott; 2k] A mechanical fault forces Virgil to take a minute in the middle of the Australian Outback. Terror After New York by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Gordon; 2k] It was all over. The rescue complete and everyone back safe and sound, finally. Yet it didn't seem as if everything had yet been put behind them entirely. The Antarctic Incident by @space-baegel, @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Adventure/Drama; Tracy Brothers; 9k] Thunderbird Two goes down in the middle of an Antarctic blizzard. The Assignment by Kaeera [Gen; Humour/Drama; Scott; 10k] Twelve year old Scott struggles with a writing assignment. Honestly, when you have four younger brothers, it can be hard finding time for yourself. The Bite by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 1k] “I need my big brother, not his sacrifice.” the devil vs Gordon Tracy by @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Family; Gordon, Scott; 6k] Being a discussion about the namesakes of some lizards. The Fire by mcj [Mature; Family; Tracy Family; 22k] “Sometimes all you need is a little quiet reflection." The Hardest Thing by eriphi [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 5k] How do you manage a billion dollar business and parent four growing boys at the same time? It takes something serious to make Jeff realise that he isn’t managing as well as he thought. The Most Dangerous Game by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Adventure; Scott, Gordon; 23k] Scott and Gordon find themselves unwilling participants. The One Where John Gets a Hug by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; John; 21k] Spending months by yourself has never been advisable behaviour, and John's never been good at asking people for help. Or: the Tracys learn the magical art of communication, with a load of hugs thrown in for good measure. The Proof is in the Jello by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Gordon, Alan; 3k] “Call it what you want, but I’m not going to let you rot in that room.” The Silent Conversation by mcj [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 5k] The sound of sirens, a flash of light and waking up under a pile of rubble. How can Scott survive knowing help just might not come? The Spider Incident by Silverstar [Teen; Humour/Family; Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 5k] It takes a certain kind of bravery to save the world... it takes a different kind of bravery to remove a spider from the shower. Or: there is a spider, and the Tracy boys are disasters. The Splinter by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Jeff; 1k] Now he had backup. The Venetian Venture by @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Romance; Gordon, Penelope; 11k] Penelope takes Gordon on a mission to Venice the waffle house blues by @akireyta, @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Family; Tracy Brothers; 5k] Wherein a bunch of boys sit around a restaurant, eating breakfast food and dozing on and off and talking about life. To Raise Havoc by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Havoc, Hood; 1k] They had to come from somewhere and he was more than she ever expected. Tomorrow Never Knows by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; Gordon, Alan, Scott; 110k] Things had not gone according to plan, to say the least. Now they were trapped on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with no hope of rescue and increasingly slim chances of survival. To make matters worse, the Chaos Crew had shown up. This was not going to be a fun week. Triple Jeopardy by Purupuss [Teen; Drama; Tracy Brothers; 217k] One inventor and one set of plans. But triple trouble for the Tracys and International Rescue. V.T. Green by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil; 23k] “Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently. “Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.” We'll Be Home For Christmas by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Friendship; Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 68k] The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way. Weathering the Storm by tiylaya [Teen; Adventure/Angst; Scott, Gordon; 102k] When an unexpected storm shipwrecks a holidaying Jeff Tracy and three of his young sons, they’re thrown into a situation far more dangerous and complex than anyone initially realises.

#fic rec #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2004 #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope creighton-ward

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starculler · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021: Day 3

Word Count: 6341 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Boba Fett, Time Travel, Alternating POV, Violence, Injury, Blood, Slavery/Tatooine Slave Culture, Death Mention, Hopeful Ending

Inspiration: Family is more than Blood by Quillfeet

Got this one in by the skin of my teeth lmao. Did my best to handle any sensitive topics as carefully as I could under a time constraint, but feel free to let me know if any issues crop up.

Anakin bounced on his toes, eager to see the stranger who’d drawn so big a crowd long after the suns had set, but unwilling to leave his mom’s side. Not when he could practically feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut through with even the dullest, poorly-made shiv. Still, impatience and curiosity burned through him and his admittedly small well of patience had already been wrung dry after an unbearably long day of having to behave in front of Watto, his customers, and the other masters in the market.

He tugged on his mom’s warm, calloused hand and she squeezed his, her grip tight but not painful as she peered over another slave’s shoulder. She frowned at whatever she saw, brow pinched and her mouth pursed in the way it sometimes did when she tried not to look worried in front of him. Anything that worried his mom like that should have made him nervous. It didn’t. He practically vibrated out of his skin at her side instead, his need to know turning to a prickling itch that crawled up his arms and down his back.

“Mom,” he said, low and in the tongue only Tatooine’s slaves knew, the word drawled out into an almost-whine he was nearly too old for.

His mom only squeezed his hand briefly, a reprimand and warning, and Anakin’s shut his mouth before any of a dozen question slipped through his chapped lips.

One of the slaves, a twi’lek near his mom’s age, on his other side turned their head just enough to make it obvious they’d heard him. He flushed, embarrassed until they winked and shifted so there was a a small gap to see through between them and the human blocking most of Anakin’s view. He wasted no time leaning over, putting most of his negligible weight on one foot so he wouldn’t pull his mom’s hand while he snuck a glance and give himself a away. Not that it mattered.

He gasped, all the breath stolen from his lungs when he caught his first glimpse of a scene seemingly pried free from some of his worst nightmares. Funny enough, the first thing he saw wasn’t the stranger body, but the sand beneath them: wet like someone had spilled water on it and dark red, almost black in the low light of old, flickering lamps made of more rust than metal — most of which he’d helped his mom fix more than once. Eyes wide, his gaze trailed up from there, from the soles of the stranger’s ratty boots to the top of their head for just long enough that the image of them burned itself into his memory.

Too soon and not soon enough, his mom pulled roughly on his arm, tugging him close against her side and hiding his face in her skirt. He clung to the dull, brown fabric and soaked in her familiar warmth even though it did nothing to stop the way his body shook. She squeezed his shoulders, but did nothing to scold him for looking. There was no sheltering a slave from horrible things. Not really.

Anakin had seen a lot of bad things in his terribly long eight years. He’d seen slaves beaten bloody and others blown up, some so violently that there was almost nothing to give back to the sands when they were mourned. He’d watched his mom scream and bleed and, once, beg to take his punishment when he’d been even younger and taking it himself might have killed him. He’d seen slaves in chains marched across the market and put up for auction. Others he’d watched be chased out of Mos Espa entirely, out into the sea of sand never to be heard from again.

This, however, was new. A cruelty his mom had so far kept him safe from, laid out on the sands of the slave’s quarters for all of them to see. The stranger’s face had been the most visible without any of the tattered bodysuit in the way. It almost looked like some master had at least taken a vibroblade to their face, carved him up bad enough that they were missing a good amount of dark, curly hair on one side of their head. The rest of them, he thought, looked a bit like a krayt dragon tried to chew them up only to spit them out halfway, leaving them worse for wear but just functional enough that they hadn’t just left them out on the sands to die.

Whoever they belonged to, Anakin hoped he never found out if only because not knowing might keep him and his mom safe from being sold to them too.

By the time he’d calmed down enough to pry his hands free from his mom’s skirt and shuffle back around to see, the bulk of the crowd had drifted away — off to sleep or work or wallow until the suns rose on another grueling day. The only ones left were him and his mom, a few adults rushing soiled and new strips of cloth back and forth, and the three grandmothers kneeled beside and working on the stranger. His mom squeezed his shoulders again, half distracted by a conversation with another mother about infection and recovery and the fact that they had no water to spare for the stranger bleeding on the sands as aged but experienced, sun-weathered hands stitched the worst of their wounds closed.

Anakin leaned back against his mom, watching. Without anyone to block his view, he could see more of the picture than his first glimpse had allowed. A red and tan bodysuit torn to shreds that might have been white before the blood and the sand had gotten to it. Strips of cloth ripped by experienced hands to be used as bandages. Green armor whose paint looks like it had been half-dissolved rather than properly stripped off, carefully pried away from the body and set aside with all the gentleness something so obviously expensive deserved. A not-so-small arsenal of blasters, grenades, a rocket and rifle, and more knives than Anakin cared to count all set just as carefully aside with well-deserved fear rather than reverence.

And pain. He saw it in the twitch of the stranger’s lips and the furrow in their brow. In the way they seemed to flinch at the grandmothers’ not-quite-gentle touch despite how he was sure they couldn’t be awake. He saw it in the ragged, uneven way their chest rose and fell, like just breathing was so hard it might as well have been crossing the dunes in a sandstorm.

He frowned. He remembered being so sick once he could hardly breathe — how much his chest had hurt and how his mom had helped soothe it by rubbing something gooey and awful-smelling into his skin. Remembered being punished, ten stinging, throbbing, bleeding lashes on his back, and how he’d cried while his mom held his hands, whispering in his ear to comfort him while another slave had stitched the worst of them closed. He wondered if the stranger had someone like his mom to hold their hand and help them breathe before they’d wound up with whatever awful master had done this.

It made his stomach twist itself into knots to know that they had only the grandmothers to help fix him and an audience to watch and fetch supplies, but no one to help make the worst of the hurt go away. And Anakin…

Anakin felt a tug, deep in his stomach and behind his navel. The kind that urged him to be silent, to run, what people to avoid, or what he needed to do to fix up a droid or appliance just right. He didn’t think before he moved, ducking out of his mom’s loose grip and ignoring her startled cry of “Ani!” as he trotted forward until he stood next to the stranger, deliberately slotting himself into place where he knew he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.

One of the grandmothers, Amiya who Anakin knew his mom still called auntie even if she’d only ever been grandmother to him, looked up at him as he approached. She slanted a glance at his mom and for a second after she looked back at him, he thought she was going to send him away. Instead, and to his surprise, she only pursed her lips and waited, her work paused mid-stitch and her one scar-split brow arched as she waited. Anakin complied hastily, though the words come out tongue-tied and clumsy despite how he’d spoken the slave’s language just as long as — longer than, even — he had Huttese or Basic.

“They need someone,” he said, soft and suddenly too aware of how quiet the quarter was at night. “To help. Like mom does when I’m sick or hurt.” He stopped, floundered for a moment before adding, so low he almost doubted she heard him: “There’s not a mom to help them, but I can. I want to.”

Amiya watched him, her gaunt, wrinkled face the even and placid mask most of the adults like her and his mom wore where they might catch a master’s eye — a mask Anakin would also wear one day when he was older and had to hide his feelings from whoever would own him. After a long, almost uncomfortable moment she nodded. He flashed her a bright smile and kneeled in a patch of night-cooled, mostly blood-free sand. For a long time after Amiya turned her attention back to the stranger, Anakin just stared. The damage looked so much worse up close and the smell of the gore alone was nearly enough to make him sick. He didn’t realize he’d started to shake until a gentle hand pressed against his back, slick with blood that would stain his shirt as it rubbed comforting circles between his shoulder blades. The white-haired grandmother the hand belonged to smiled, thin and sad, when he turned to her, and he offered his own much wobblier one back.

“Breathe through your nose,” she advised, voice cracked and croaking from long-healed damage, and he did. It helped, but not much. Still, she patted him twice more on the back and offered up a firm “good boy” that sounded prouder than he thought was warranted.

Anakin sucked in three bracing breaths, shallower than he would have preferred, before carefully — more carefully than he’d ever done anything else — picked up the stranger’s larger, brown hand to cradle between his own smaller palms. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull. Barely even breathed. He just rubbed his thumb over their split, scabbed knuckles and pushed safety and comfort and the other warm things he felt when his mom chased away his pains and nightmares at them. Imagined them flowing down from his thoughts to his arms, pooling in his hands to be poured out from his palms and into the stranger’s rough hands, absorbed through the skin like the first sip of soothing water on the worst days.

Whether it worked or not, he wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe some of the tension in the stranger’s brow and the stutter in their chest eased just a little bit. He stayed there, holding their hand and sometimes babbling, soft enough it almost counted as a whisper, switching between all three of the languages he spoke and even into brief bouts of untrained Bocce in the hopes that they knew at least one and would find it comforting. It could have been minutes or hours before his mom came to collect him, his head bobbing and eyes threatening to close as exhaustion swept over him. She crouched behind him and ran her fingers through his hair a few times before she spoke.

“Time to sleep, Ani.”

“But mom—” he started, voice more of a brief mumbling slur for all that he didn’t get to say more than those two words before Amiya cut in.

“Mind your mother, Anakin.” He ducked his head, chastened. “You’ve done good tonight, but it’s past time for little ones to rest. This one’ll be here come the suns’ rise and you can sit with them then until you and your mom are off to your master’s.”

Anakin nodded, mumbled a tired “Yes grandmother Amiya,” and patted the stranger’s hand twice before setting it down with a quiet promise that he’d be back as soon as he’d woken up. He stumbled when he stood, grateful for his mom when she put her hands back on his shoulders and steered him back home all the way to his flat pallet. Sleep claimed him easily that night, too tired to even dream.

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

The world was pain. Burning, stinging, cutting pain day after night after day for what might as well have been a small eternity trapped in the wet, writhing darkness where only his own nightmares provided grim relief until he clawed and rent and tore his way out of that hell and into another. He gasped and dragged himself forward, burning from the heat of the suns above and the sands below until he felt he’d boil away entirely.

Death would have been a mercy, but mercies had never existed for men like him.

He crawled and shoved and pried his way through the sand with the same desperate, all-consuming determination he’d relied on all his life. A legacy left to him by his father. A curse when giving up would have been a kindness to his battered body.

Time was nonexistent. Unimportant to him in his struggle. Day or night mattered little in the suffocating, sweltering heat when he knew the desert would swallow him whole at any moment. Should have swallowed him whole, but didn’t. The desert, for once, was kind and he hated it for that.

He hated it for letting him live, tortured and weak and pitiful enough that no one he knew would have looked twice at him. There were voices and hands, reaching and gentle and alarmed. He hated this one act of kindness — not mercy, this could never be mercy — the desert had granted him and he fought, battered and bit and snarled in the vain hope they’d leave him for dead when he proved too much trouble. They took it as challenge instead and won.

Defeated, he let himself fall into his exhaustion wondering if he might slip away in his sleep instead and prove their efforts useless.

His nightmares weren’t welcome, but they were familiar to him by then.

He watched his father’s head fall from his shoulders a half dozen times as his body was dragged, unconscious, through the desert.

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

Anakin sat with stranger the next morning like he’d promised, all but sprinting out the door of their tiny home as soon as his mom had told him he could go. He stayed until his mom called him back and worked with her in Watto’s shop until the toydarian let them leave just as the first of Tatooine’s suns had touched the horizon. When they returned, the stranger had been moved into one of the few empty homes in the quarter — the slave who’d lived there recently sold and a replacement yet to be found — to avoid the worst of the day’s heat. He sat with them again after late-meal, holding their hand and talking, helping with any small task he could until they shooed him off to bed.

His mom stayed with him, longer sometimes and well into the night. She helped whoever else was there keeping an eye on the stranger teach him how to change bandages, spot the signs of infection in a wound, to decide which remedies and medicines were critical and which could be spared and saved for later, as well as how to make a few of the most basic ones.

“There isn’t much we can do for them,” Amiya had told him, grave but gentle, on the third night, “except wait and watch, and ease some of the pain if we can.”

He’d nodded, feeling tears prick at his eyes even as he bit his lower lip to help keep them from falling. His mom brushed her fingers through his hair, pulling him close to her side while he worked to breathe through the tangled knot of emotion pressing on his throat.

“It’s not fair,” he said, voice thick, and his mom clucked her tongue, not unsympathetically.

“Life rarely is, Ani.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then leaned her cheek there like she could drape herself over him — a blanket to blot out the world’s cruelties. “Sometimes, your feelings won’t matter,” she said, sounding wretched as the words settled heavy in the air between them. “Sometimes — most times — all we can do is live in reality and accept that it might be cruel no matter what we do, knowing that denying it will do us no favors.” Anakin sniffed, pulling his knees in towards his chest. “And we will live, knowing this and knowing that being kind in the face of this cruelty is the bravest choice we can make.”

“Are we?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, feeling small and miserable. His mom hummed a question against his hair while Amiya stared at him, dark eyes seeming to peer right through and into the core of him. “Kind, I mean. Is. I mean. I heard some of the other adults — I didn’t mean to listen, really, but they were talking about. About…” He trailed off, but Amiya picked up the thread as seamlessly as if she’d read his mind.

“About a mercy.”

He nodded. His mom stiffened, hugging him tighter. He knew there was mercy in death on Tatooine. He’d heard slaves beg for it before, beaten half to death and left, bleeding and wheezing on the ground. He’d watched one new mother walk out into the sands with her baby one night and come back alone in the morning. He’d even seen a grandmother, withered hands bloody and holding a shiv as she walked out of the house of a slave who’d lost most of their arm when their chip detonated and survived, only for the wound to grow infected and the slave so weak they could hardly drink a sip of water.

He didn’t like it, but he knew.

Amiya sighed, leaned back against the night-chilled stone, and looked at the ceiling.

“Let me tell you a story, Anakin,” she said, and he thought she sounded older then than she ever had before.

“Okay.”

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

The nightmares had no end. They played on loop — his worst and his best memories twisted together with things that had never happened at all until he couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. He lived them. Was them. Played his part in them until he was sure he really had died out there on the sands and this was hell.

If it was, he wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of seeing him beg even if all he wanted in the worst of it was to wake up, ten years old again before everything had gone to shit.

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

The stranger woke with a groan on the fifth morning, just as Anakin had turned his back to follow his mom to Watto’s shop. He gasped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed to spin back around.

“You’re awake!”

They blinked up at the ceiling, stiff as a board the second Anakin had practically shouted the words before slowly, probably painfully, turning their head to look at him. Anakin rocked back on his heels, mouth open and the words just about ready to burst out of him when they beat him to it.

“What?” they asked in Basic, voice a rough, crackling growl that could have been natural as much as it might have been from a parched throat or their injuries.

It was Anakin’s turn to blink then, uncomprehending for a moment before he realized he’d spoken to them like he would have any of the other slaves in the quarter. He flushed, fumbling for a moment from embarrassment before managing to wrangle together the right words.

“I said: you’re awake. You’ve been asleep for five days! Well, four, but today makes five. So, five days.”

“Oh.”

They stared at him, blank except for the obvious signs they were in pain — their pinched brow, their thinned lips, the pallor of their skin, better than it had been but still noticeable — and Anakin fidgeted in place until his mom called his name. He looked back at her, to the stranger, and briefly to his own feet before turning a bright grin on them.

“I have to go now, but Mom and I’ll let someone else know you’re awake. They’ll give you some of the water we all helped save up just in case you did really wake up. Which you did!” he added, too excited to keep himself from pointing out the obvious.

“What?” they asked again, but Anakin had already turned back to his mom with a cheerful “bye” thrown over his shoulder.

The day passed in an agonizingly slow haze of nerves and excitement that had cooled briefly after Watto yelled at him some time close to midday, and reignited when he and his mom started the walk home under the violet-orange lit sky of late-evening-nearly-night. She steered him home and forced him to eat his late-meal before setting him loose with a small smile and a firm warning to be careful. He grinned at her, nodding even as he practically tumbled through the door and back out into the quarter to make his way to where they’d been keeping the stranger.

“Hi,” he said, peeking through the tattered fabric hung up in place of a proper door.

The room was almost empty, lit mostly thanks to the three moons peeking up over the horizon and the last traces of the twin suns falling on the other side spilling through two windows, little more than a pair of squares cut out of solid rock, and the open, arched entrance. The stranger was the only person inside, propped up to sit against the wall furthest from the door, and mostly hidden in shadow except for the light cast from a neat little device about as big around as the palm of Anakin’s hand that they’d put down next to them. On their other side was a pile of their green armor, all but a pauldron which they’d been turning over in their hands until Anakin had poked his head in.

Their small arsenal of weapons, however, had been moved to the corner of the room furthest from them. Not that he faulted anyone for that. Every slave in the quarter would be in trouble if anyone found them, whether they’d actually helped the stranger or not.

“Hi,” they replied, suspicion all but dripping from the word as they slowly lowered the pauldron down to rest in their lap.

Anakin smiled and took the attention as permission to step inside, settled down with his legs crossed on the room’s sandy floor. Even from a few feet away, he could tell they looked better than even that morning — still battered and bandaged and a little paler than they probably should be, but whole and alive in a way they hadn’t been while asleep. Unconscious, technically, but technicalities rarely mattered to an eight-year-old. The silence stretched between them, both of them staring at each other until he chose to break it.

“How do you feel?” It was only polite to ask, even if it wasn’t what he really wanted to know. A dozen questions burned his tongue, but his mom hadn’t wasted time teaching him to be rude so he kept a tight leash on them and waited. Thankfully, not for long this time.

“Fine,” they said, curt if not a bit gruff. They sounded better, he noted, than they had earlier. “You’re the kid from this morning.” They furrowed their brows, speaking slowly like they weren’t quite confident about being right. Anakin nodded even though it hadn’t quite been a question. He knew that feeling well, after all. “What’s your name?”

“Anakin. What’s yours?”

“Boba.”

Anakin cocked his head to one side and asked, shameless: “Just Boba?”

“Just Anakin?” they drawled in return, their unbandaged brow arched. Anakin grinned, all teeth and excitement. He liked Boba.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he offered, expecting to get Boba’s surname in response only to be disappointed when all got instead was a a slow blink and a huff of breath that could’ve meant anything and nothing at all.

“What’re you doing here, kid?”

He pouted, watched Boba’s lips twitch up into a smirk, and pouted harder. He wondered, somewhere in the very back of his mind, if it was smart to be there, alone with someone who wore armor and had weapons and as much muscle and healthy bulk as Boba did. There was a danger to them, in the way their eyes never quite settled on Anakin in favor of scanning their surroundings again and again. It was there in the way they sat, too. At ease, like even injured and newly-woken they knew they could fight their way out if needed. Anakin wondered, but stayed, knowing his mom wouldn’t have let him come if anyone had mentioned they were dangerous.

“Rude,” he said, still pouting but also a little joking. Testing. Boba rolled his eyes and waited for a proper answer. “I come here every day. I even did the bandages on your arm.” He gestured to Boba’s left arm where they’d been sliced from elbow to shoulder, jagged and sloppy. It had needed stitches in three different places where the cut ran extra deep — the wound too long to spare enough thread for the whole thing. “Mom had to fix it the first three times, but I got it right this morning. Before you woke up.”

“Shouldn’t you be out doing … kid … things? Fun things?” Boba asked, sounding suddenly awkward, their gaze sliding away from Anakin after the clumsy question and looking for all the world like they hadn’t really meant to ask it.

“Maybe.” Anakin shrugged. “Watto’s been in a bad mood though, so mom and I have been getting home really late all week. Even if I wanted to, all the other kids would’ve gone home by the time he let us go.”

Boba’s gaze snapped back to him as he talked, focused instead of awkward, and only offered a low hum in response. He felt a little like a piece of meat in front of a starved massif, but did his best to channel a bit of his mom’s unwavering calm. Not the mask she used in front of the masters so much as the air she adopted in front of some of the new slaves brought to the quarter, scared and alone.

“Any siblings?” They sounded almost hopeful when they asked, only to scowl when he shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “It’s just mom and me. Do you? Have siblings, I mean.”

“No.” Boba sighed. “Sort of, but not really.” Anakin wrinkled his nose.

“How’s that work?”

Boba didn’t answer, only waved a hand at him in a vague gesture he took to mean it was complicated. He nodded, understanding. Slave families were always complicated, and he’d learned not to ask about complicated things when they didn’t want to be talked about. Instead, he changed tracks and poked at one of the many other threads he’d wanted to pick at since Boba had woken up earlier.

“How long have you been on Tatooine? I’ve been here my whole life, but my mom wasn’t. She got sold to Gardulla a long time ago before she lost a bet to Watto and he won both of us.” Anakin’s lips tugged up into a grin and he leaned forward, excited despite himself. “Before that she said she was in space, on a real ship and everything. I’m gonna go up into space one day! Get on a ship and fly right off Tatooine and see all the stars up close.”

Boba leaned back, drawing one of their legs up so they could rest their left arm against the knee as they listened. It made it harder for him to read their face, but not impossible. And Anakin was nothing if not good at figuring out how people felt if he concentrated hard enough.

“Sounds like a good goal,” they said, amused. When they said nothing else, Anakin frowned.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Boba tipped his head just slightly to one side, and he huffed, shoving as much exasperation into the breathy sound as he could. “My question? About how long you’ve been here.”

“Long enough.”

He nodded, humming a little in response. It made sense, he mused, that someone with a master as mean as Boba’s might not want to keep track of how long they’d been with them. That thought, though, brought up another very important question that Anakin wasn’t sure anyone else had thought to ask them yet. He hesitated, mouth suddenly dry as he shifted in place, and picked at the hem of his tan shirt to buy himself a few seconds more.

“Have you—” He stopped. Pressed his lips into a thin line so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to lick them. “Terrin and Bhan found you out in the sands behind the quarter,” he said, carefully picking his words. “Mom said they brought you back here. And. Well, uh.”

“Spit it out kid,” Boba said, not unknindly but not kindly either.

“It’s just, five days is a lot y’know? And-and some masters’ll wait a few, yeah, if they hurt you bad enough, but. But five is a lot, ‘specially for a slave, even if you look really well fed and have cool armor and get to actually hold weapons. But five is a lot of days! And I was really scared I’d wake up or-or come back from Watto’s and you’d be blown up ‘cause your master didn’t wanna wait anymore and—”

Boba moved, faster than someone that hurt should have been able to, and leaned forward, almost crouched, with his hands up, palms out. Anakin’s mouth snapped shut on instinct and he sucked in a huge breath of air, relieving the ache in his lungs he hadn’t noticed in his rush to get all the words out even as the rest of him tensed. They waited until he wasn’t practically gasping, their already dark eyes almost black in the shadows.

He’d thought Boba felt like danger before, but now they looked it, balanced on the balls of their feet with their hands out in front of them. For a moment, it was like seeing double: Boba as they were, bandaged and hurt, and another Boba clad in green, well cared for armor, crouched much like they were now except they held a blaster in one hand and a vibroblade as long as Anakin’s forearm in the other.

Just then, Anakin thought, a little hysterical, they looked like the predator they could be.

As quickly as it had come, the moment passed and he was left with only Boba as he knew them: unarmored, unarmed, dressed half in the remains of his once-white undersuit and the ratty strips of cloth they’d used to dress their wounds. He breathed, long and slow, until his heart felt a little less like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest, and forced the rest of his body to loosen up at least a little, not wanting to look too much like an animal about to run.

“You think I’m a slave,” Boba said, almost a whisper, but Anakin couldn’t find it in himself to nod or speak. Not yet. “Thank you,” they added, a lot like they were trying not to spook him, “for the concern, misplaced as it is.”

It took a few tries, but Anakin finally found his voice for long enough to ask, soft as he could: “If it wasn’t a master, then —” He swallowed even though his mouth felt drier than the desert. “Then who did this to you?”

They didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to lower themself back down with a groan half-muffled behind gritted teeth. Anakin felt small under their gaze if not quite scared, but did his best to keep himself upright rather than cowed.

“I did,” Boba answered, strained, with a weight to the words Anakin didn’t understand. They did nothing to make him feel any less small, no bigger than a single grain of sand. “I was stupid. Wound up in—” They paused, squinted at Anakin, and then quickly amended what they’d meant to say. “Wound up in trouble with no backup.” They shrugged, the dark circles under their eyes looking suddenly so much bigger. Heavier. “I remember a little of how I got out, but not how I wound up here in … Mos Espa I think someone said.”

Anakin opened his mouth, not sure at all what he wanted to say, if anything, until his mom’s voice at the entrance startled him.

“Anakin, time to sleep.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, eyes firmly set on Boba, but Anakin nodded anyway.

He stood, brushing sand off his pants for a moment before looking back at Boba. He smiled, dimmer than before, and said: “Goodnight, Boba. See you tomorrow,” he added and waited until Boba’s lips twitched up again — not quite a smile, not quite a smirk, but an invitation back all the same. He did grin then, offering up a little wave before turning on his heel to follow his mom.

“ ‘Night, Skywalker,” he heard Boba say, as the cloth in the doorway settled back in place.

Anakin took his mom’s hand when she held hers out. She squeezed his fingers briefly, then tugged him close. He breathed in. Out. And listened for the little notes he sometimes heard on the wind — the tug in his gut and the pull in his bones that sometimes pulled him closer to one decision or another. He felt it, faint but there. A warmth like good, hot food in his belly or his mom’s hugs after an awful dream, and for a single second, the scrape of fingers on metal ringing in a way he’d never heard before but made him think of Boba regardless.

He let his mom hold him all the way to his room until he kissed her goodnight. His last thought before he fell asleep, curled up on his pallet and tucked under his thin, scratchy blanket, was of the stranger named Boba and the pleasant notes plucking a tune inside and around him, whispering to him even on the edge of his dreams.

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

Boba watched Skywalker — Anakin Skywalker — leave, nothing but a kid smaller than Boba ever remembered being: naive and vulnerable and dressed in all the inadequate trappings of a slave and so damnably bright that it hurt to look at his little, hopeful face. Not so much as a hint of the Jedi knight he remembered from his youth — most of it propaganda he’d caught glimpses of in prison and a few jobs before the Empire erased everything — remained in the child except maybe in the edges of that smile, confident if not yet cocky, but innocent. Painfully innocent.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, the skin on his palm still a little raw from the acid in the sarlacc’s stomach. Maybe, he thought desperately, he was still there, being slowly digested to death because surely, surely, that made more sense than what every other conclusion he reached for pointed to. He had to be dead or dying, not—

Not 36 years in the kriffing past, if the date the woman who’d told him where on this godsforsaken planet he was had given him was right. It made no sense. He wasn’t a Jedi — little gods no — and he had no connection to their Force or any other magic. He didn’t think the sarlacc had anything to do with it either, but that still left him with no answers and a galaxy’s-worth of questions.

“Fuck,” he growled, as much a helpless sound as it was a curse to whatever or whoever had caused this. He’d wring their neck as soon as he found out, even if it meant figuring out a way to strangle some magical cosmic thing that a dead order of damned wizards had believed in. For now, though, he was stuck. Injured and healing, without a ship or a credit to his name, no reputation to speak of, and Anakin fucking Skywalker who apparently helped nurse him back to health and had promised to come back in the morning.

And a father who was alive somewhere in the wider galaxy.

The realization came slow and with all the strength of an imperial star cruiser hurtling forward at full speed. He swallowed, blinking back a wave of stinging tears as something thick and pitiful welled up in his throat. He breathed, deep and slow, and forced himself back into order by sheer force of will. He was still stuck on Tatooine, tucked away in the slave’s quarter by some idiotic sense of communal good-will that would do nothing for their self-preservation, but he had time. He had time, if not a lot, to find his father and… Do something.

“Fuck,” he said again, but it was tired. A thick and bone-deep weariness that threatened to suffocate him if he thought about it for too long.

He sighed and wondered, for just a moment before he let sleep drag him back down into the darkness and nightmares, if his father was the man who’d raised Boba already, or someone else entirely. He hated that he didn’t know which one he’d prefer if he woke again tomorrow and found that time travel really was the answer to where — when — he was.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#star wars #anakin skywalker #boba fett #fic #blood #injury #death mention #my fanfic

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