#nothing quicker than me armed with spite apparently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magicman111 · 3 years

Text

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

43 notes · View notes

violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff+small amount of angst

⤷ Word Count: 5307+

⤷ Warnings: Drunk reader, cursing, also reader+Bakugo will be aged up (early 20′s, cause no underage drinking in this house!)

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo doesn’t have any feeling for you. You’re just one of his shitty friends and that’s it. He’s only picking you up from a bar after your breakup because you drunk called him and not because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t feel his heart pang when you say you want him to drive you to his apartment, not yours. He doesn’t completely turn beet red when he sees you change into his clothes.But, as much as he denies it, Bakugo realizes he loves you when you cry to him drunkenly , saying you wished you had a lover as sweet as him

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event! Also this was actually inspired by @shoutogepi HC of Bakugo and Kirishima taking care of their drunk s/o! I honestly loved this headcannons so much, and they really inspired me to write a more angsty sort of spin on it. Here’s a link to her post (I also explicitly asked her if it was alright to take inspiration from her headcannons, just in case!)

Bingo Slot: Realized Feelings

Bakugo stepped his foot deeper into the gas, the engine in his car roaring as it zoomed through the dark streets.

Damn you and your shitty decisions.

He had been woken up in the dead of the night to his phone ringing annoyingly against his bedside table. Your caller ID of “Cute Shithead” was shining brightly against his face, his finger immediately taking the call.

He had to admit, he was a little annoyed for you calling him so damn early in the morning, but hearing your voice immediately melted any irritation. By the way your words slurred together, you sounded completely wasted. That alone could turn him into a worried frenzy, but the tone of your voice sent ice down his spine.

You sounded so lonely, so defeated, as if you had lost all hope and were giving up.

He rammed his foot again into the gas, following the directions to the club you said you were at as closely as possible over the roar of his engine.

He was just being a decent friend and helping you out, he told himself. There was no other reason why he was helping you...it wasn’t because his heart practically dropped at the sound of your voice, or how he felt his chest tighten when you said “Please come get me Katsuki”

Or that you had called him, not anybody else, to come and get you. It was all platonic-he had to keep telling himself that.

He hastily pulled into the parking lot, his car swerving into a spot a little too haphazardly. He yanked the keys from the vehicle, closing the inky black door with a thud as he looked at the building in front of him.

A bright, Neon green sign lit up the roof, a line of club goers filtering through as they waited for the bouncer to allow them in. It was pretty late in the night-2 am to be exact-so more people were stumbling out of the club than actually going on.

Bakugo quickly began to walk over to the establishment, his body weaving through drunken couples clambering to their cars or taxis. He was searching everywhere, helplessly trying to find your face in every person he saw.

Where the hell were you?

Bakugo turned to his side, looking at the asphalt that lead into the club. There were parking spots right there, all empty, probably for Ubers and Lyfts to come pick up people who had ordered them. THere were a few people sitting on the curb, waiting for their rides as they sat on their phone or blabbered drunkenly to their friends.

But then he spotted a familiar body, their shoulders slump down in exhaustion, their eyes downcast in defeat. He quickly made his way over, knowing exactly who that body belonged to.

“Shit y/n, the hell are you doing here by yourself-“

He quickly bent down, looking at you square in the face.

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes so full of relief and sadness he felt his heart ping from your expression.

He had to admit- you looked like a wreck. Your once meticulously curled hair was frizzy and in shambles from dancing, your makeup splotchy in places and black coating under your eyes.

HIs calloused hands wrapped around your waist, his other arm gently pulling your free hand around his neck for support. He felt like he was moving a ragdoll-you complied with each of his movements, your body resting against his as if you depended on him

“Well, I did have some f-friends… with me…” your murmured out, your voice thick from sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“And the hell are they?”

“-they left a few hours ago…” you slurred,” I said I’d stay… a little longer”

Bakugo began to walk you to his car, the walk more like a stumble as he tried to guide you on your wobbling feet. He felt his insides heat up with an intense flame of rage, licking up and consuming his insides. How the hell could your ‘friends’ just leave you? THis was nothing like you, to be so impulsive that you became incredibly vulnerable in public. Something was seriously wrong with you, something you had to be going through.

“Shitty friends for leaving you like this.” he replied gruffly, making no attempt to hide his obvious anger. “Are you okay? Did anybody try and do anything funny to you?”

He was worried, he had to admit that to himself- you were clearly in a wrong headspace in a pretty sketchy place. Anything could go wrong, and he wanted to make sure that nothing happened.

Not because the idea of you dancing with another guy makes him want to punch a wall.

Or trying to lure you to his apartment made him want to yell and break that imaginary mans jaw, in order to keep you safe in his arms.

Nope-strictly platonic.

You scoffed at the blonde's words, a harsh chuckle spilling out of your chapped lips. “Of course Bakugo, everybody here wants to grope the girl who looks like she’s been crying all day-

“I’m fine-really”

Somehow, even with your slurring words and clouded mind, these words were the first sober syllables you had uttered.

But- if you were fine, you wouldnt be going to a club this late at night. You would have been smart enough to at least stay alert, not completely wasted, and you definitely wouldn't be by yourself. Your werent fine, and Bakugo knew it, because you werent being you.

He was impulsive, irrational, and went with his gut feeling, even if it was a stupid or dangerous idea. You on the other hand, were like his better half: calm yet forceful, a commanding tide to soothe the volcanic eruptions of his anger.

But now you were different, a choppy whirlpool of emotions that were locked away deep inside you, the effects changing your once calm and rational demeanor into something saddened and desperate.

Bakugo gave you a long look, his red eyes slanted as he tried to read what was on your mind.

He stopped your two’s trudging, finally being in front of his car.

A protest was dying to spill from his lips, to retort and fight back the obvious lie you had just uttered. But something in your tired voice made him falter, making him feel more empathy for you than frustration

“Okay then…” he sighed, “let’s get you home,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

It was unnervingly quiet.

Bakugo had the music off, worried that the thumping bass would aggravate any possible headache you had as you curled up in the seat beside him, your high heeled shoes long forgotten on the floor of his car.

He drove much more smoothly than before, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the road. He wasn't used to this kind of you-he missed your smile, and the way you would joke and laugh with him. Of course he would act like he didn't like it, giving you snarky comments and off handed insults that would only push you even more to joke with him.

Now he felt like he was next to a shell of you- you were there, right next to him, but- You weren't there. Your smile, your spirit, your light- it was being blocked by some darkness inside you.

“Are-are you mad at me Katsuki?”

You finally spoke to him, making Bakuo’s eyes wide and his heart stop in his chest.

Why did you sound so timid?

Bakugo continues to glue his eyes on the road, his voice gruff yet uncertain.

“The hell I’d be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know…” you replied softly, “you just sounded-mad”

Shit- now he felt guilty, making you feel worse than you probably already did. It was just that he was worried, and sometimes his emotions came out quicker than his words. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you out of all people could act like this.

“Well, I’m not mad at you-I’m just-“ he sighed, trying to find the words.

“- the hell were you out that late? The club scene isn’t your thing”

You shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, cuddling yourself in closer to your body.

“I thought I told you-” you answered sadly, ‘I got dumped”

Bakugo blinked a couple times, the shock vibrating throughout his body. He knew you had a boyfriend, apparently Shindo Yo, the damn pretty boy of another hero agency. You were his closest friend after all, so he dealt with the news as best he could, but Bakugo has never liked the guy. He always chalked it up to him being protective over you as your friend, but the way he used to feel so angry and so frustrated whenever he saw you hold hands or hug made him want to scream. A small amount of happiness filled up his chest by hearing you say you were single, instantly making him feel guilty as he saw how distraught you were.

“The hell-“ he gulped out quickly, “what for?”

“Dont know..” you sighed, your face contorted in a grimace, “he-he said he needed to focus on his career-and that-that I was going to stop him from achieving his goals-”

Bakugo instantly felt anger erupt in his chest, his hands becoming clammy against the leather steering wheel.

“Wait-that dickwad, Shindo Yo, right? The damn extra won't amount to nothing, the hell he-”

He was rambling, the spiteful words spewing from his lips. He just couldn’t understand why your piece of shit of a boyfriend would dump someone as amazingly kind and caring as you, and go as far to say such awful words. It made him incredibly furious, and all he wanted to do was confront your now ex and give him a piece of his mind for causing you to act this way.

He was surprised though to hear your voice interject him, your tone stern yet pleading.

“Bakugo, can we not talk about it? Please?”

He wanted to kick himself for being so inconsiderate, an embarrassed blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Shit-I-okay,yeah”

The car ride continued in silence, Bakugo staring at the road in conflict, you cuddling yourself into a small ball on the leather seat.

It continued for a few minutes, until Bakugo broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked gruffly, looking at you slightly from the side.

He noticed you shift, turning to look at him with large, pleading eyes.

“Can-can we go to your place instead?” you squeaked out, almost as if worried by his response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mean earlier….I just- always feel so safe and warm when I go to your apartment, Katsuki”

Bakugo felt his heart quicken in his chest-you called him “Katsuki”, his name. Something in you saying that made him feel hot from flusteredness, but then you said you felt safe with him...he had never been more thankful for the darkness of night, because he knew his face was completely red.

He gulped, trying to build up the wall around his emotions you were trying to knock down. With each word or truth that spilled from your sleepy, drunken mouth, he found it harder to keep his feelings at bay. He took a deep breath, his clammy hands readjusting on the steering wheel.

You two were just friends.

He didn’t like you like that and you-you probably didn’t either.

He needed to be Bakugo, your best friend, your rock in hard times, not Bakugou, the blushing mess next to you that was concerned with his own feelings.

He clicked the turn signal on his car to the right, taking the route back to his home instead of yours as he sighed.

“-Fine.”

Bakugo pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the bumpy street roads now turning smooth as he fit his car through the metal gate and settled into a parking spot near his apartment.

He turned the key of the car, killing the roaring engine as he stepped out of the car, the closing door as a soft thud as he commanded you to “Stay inside”.

Your sluggish head instantly perked at the statement, unable to understand what he had meant by that. But your body felt too tired, mentally and physically, and too weak to even protest. You stayed there, cuddled into the seat as Bakugo opened the door of the passenger seat, his arms outstretched as they tucked themselves under your body.

“Wait what are you-“ you asked sluggish, your eyes barely open as you wrapped your digits around his arms.

“I’m picking you up”

HIs tone was calm and forceful, as if this was a completely normal occurrence between the two of you- which it wasn't.

You instantly blushed at the prospect, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue.

“You don’t have to, I can-“

“I could barely walk you to car and that was in flat ground,” he retorted back, I’m not gonna walk you up stairs-”

“Just let me do this”

He stated a little more softly, his voice gruff and low as he picked you up off the seat as if you weighed nothing to him. Your hands instantly latched onto his neck finding comfort by burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Shit-why you had to go and be so cute?

His grip around your body tightened, making sure you felt secure as he walked you up the plight of steps to his apartment.

Something about this felt so surreal- your warm body against his, his hands wrapping your thighs, the way your hair felt against his cheek...these were all sensations that left his heart pounding.

All of this seemed to frustrate him as much as it brought him joy-he shouldn't feel any of these tingling sensations around you. He shouldn't feel weightless and giddy, or terrified he'd do the wrong thing around you all the time. It bothered him to know end, and made him feel so frustrated.

But the most frustrating part was the fact you were oblivious- that you had this secret power over him and you didn't even know it.

He finally stepped foot in his apartment, setting you down gently as he ruffled through his pockets for his keys. His hand was still wrapped around your waist, giving you some stability as he opened the door with a slow creak, ushering you inside.

You stepped inside, feeling somewhat out of place- you had been here countless times before: parties, get togethers, the meet up place before you would hang out with the Bakusquad….so why did it feel so strange?

The room felt more intimate in a way-you had never been here without someone else, usually Kirishima.

And youd been here at night, but never this late, and the fact you had asked to sleep over- well, everything just felt so new and raw.

Thankfully Bakugo broke through your rapid thoughts, his vermillion eyes looking down at you with slight worry.

“You good? No needing to throw up or anything?” he asked gruffly.

God he felt so close- you could practically feel his heat radiating into your body still, making your cold digits beg for his touch.

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughts, a small “Mm-mm” and a shake of your head the only thing you could muster to do.

He led you over to his room, passing the small kitchen and bathroom as he did.

“Then you need new clothes- get you out of that clubbing crap”

Your mouth instantly formed into a pout, your eyes looking up at your best friend.

“It's not crap-its pretty”you corrected him, your tone playfully hurt.

“More like tight,” he replied snarkily, “ how do you even move in that thing?’’

You were about to quickly retort back that he should wear the dress and find out, but then a sudden image of Bakugo wearing your skin tight dress at a club made you instantly double over in giggles.

Bakugo gave you a questionable look, his red eyes almost judging your drunken, laughing form.

“I just keep it down with my hands silly,” you said in between giggles, your body flopping onto the plush comforter of his bed. Now you felt a little more at ease, as if the courage of alcohol had kicked into your system yet again.

Bakugo shook his head, his blonde locks swaying at the motion as he quietly said ‘Giggly ass drunk” under his breath. He began to rustle through his closet, trying his best not to stare at your form laying across his bed in such a body accentuating dress.

You hadnt seemed to notice Bakugo's rhetoric or dilemma, a soft smile gracing your lips stiill. Your propped your body up on your elbows, your tousled hair pooling against your skin.

“so what amazing little number are you gonna put me in now?”

“-This,”

You felt cloth instantly hit you square in the face, as if Bakugo had thrown it over his shoulder-most likely on purpose.

Usually you would attack the asshole for doing something like that, but you just felt too tired to even throw an insult back. Your lips pouted out once again, a small whine escaping your throat as you ripped the shirt from your face.

Bakugo grinned slightly at you ,finding your expression adorable as well as funny. He watched you inspect the shirt, the fabric as dark as your dress.

“You would think interning with Best Jeanist would have left some fashion sense in you,” you spewed out, your face clearly distraught by the shirt he had given you.

He rolled his eyes, his grin now turning into a grimace.

Was drunk you really that picky over a shirt?

“That was 5 fucking years ago, and I only interned with him cause he was one of the best,” he tried to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grown warm from your drunken disapproval. But his fiery personality kicked in, his tongue beginning to stutter over his words. “- just throw the goddamn shirt on before I let you sleep in that shit you call a dress”

“Or I could sleep in my underwear, there's other alternatives,”

your words flew out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, a triumphant grin on your face as you saw how beet red Bakugo became.

A giggle escaped from your lips, the sound ringing softly against his ears.

“Dont worry Katsuki, Ill wear the clothes,” you gave him a soft smile, cuddling the clothing to your chest.

He blinked a few times, trying to get his heart to settle back into a steady rhythm.

This wasn't real.

You didn't make him nervous.

You were just his best friend- you being in his room, in a pretty dress, making flirty remarks didn't affect him.

You were drunk-you weren't yourself right now- so why did he feel so hopeful? And for what?

He quickly spun on his heel, turning around before you could catch the glowing in his cheeks.

“Whatever-just call me if you need help” he threw over his shoulder, his hands closing his bedroom food with a loud slam.

Bakugo sat himself on the couch in his living room, his hands resting on his face, his elbow connected to his legs.

The hell was going on with him?

As he was brooding over his conflicted emotions, he heard the door of his room click open, and it seemed all his feeble attempts to slow down his heart went out the window.

There you were, clad in his black tshirt, the fabric pooling around your thighs and making your arms look tiny in the flowing fabric. You must have been wearing the shorts worn from under your dress, but still- he got a full view of your beautifully plush thighs, making heat rise to his cheeks.

Strange sensations filled his stomach, that tingling butterfly sensations filling his stomach-

The hell was wrong with him?

“For your clothes being so bland, they are pretty comfy…” you smiled up at him, his heart quickening at the small gesture.

You walked your way over the couch, resting your body opposite him, giving ample space between the two of you as you sighed in content.

“I could go to sleep right now”

Bakugo snorted, his arms wrapping against his chest as the heat continued to rise in his cheeks.

“The hell your not-”

You instantly pushed yourself up, cocking your head at Bakugou in confusion.

He had to admit it to himself- your looked-cute-, sitting there, your legs crossed with his shirt wrapped around your frame, your eyes wide and hair a mess.

He could get used to seeing you like this-

But shit he couldn't-didnt-think like that. You were his friend, nothing more.

“What do ya mean?” you asked “You were complaining about me two minutes ago, wouldn't you want me to go to sleep?”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sure but-I'm not letting you go to sleep with all that shit on your face-”

Your hands instantly went to touch your face, your digit scrubbing against the skin.

“Huh?-Oh”

You looked down, and there on your hand was your foundation, a tiny bit too dark as it had mingled with your bronzer and highlighter, black running against your skin like tire streaks on a road.

How did you not even feel that was on your face? How drunk were you?

The thought of you being so intoxicated you forgot you had makeup on seemed like the funniest thing ever, giggles dribbling out of your lips.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” you laughed, chuckles wracking through your body.

Bakugo simply shook his head, unable to contain a smirk from gracing his lips. He got up slowly, walking over to your side of the couch to offer you his hand.

“Alright cmon-you giggly ass drunk,” he smirked, his lungs tightening as you gave him a smile of your own, your smaller hand slowly taking hold in his larger one.

You leaned into his body, already accustomed to him being your support- he would at least admit it right now...you were cute

He walked you over to his bathroom, his digit flicking on the light switch.

It was a little small, with enough room to hold two people inside. He gently pressed you against the wood of the cabinet, his hands grabbing your waist as he hoisted you on to the counter.

Any other day you would be embarrassed by this sudden closeness with your best friend but something about this felt bitter sweet. It had been so long it seemed like since someone had truly cared for you, being there by your side and making sure you were okay. It felt comforting to have Bakugou near you, but you knew this wouldnt last. You were drunk and feeling broken-is was just his obligation as your friend to get you through the night. Once you sobered up, itd be back to the way things were-bitterly lonely.

As you muddled in your emotions, your feet dangling against the cabinets, Bakugo was rummaging through in the cabinet next to you, emerging with a bottle of makeup remover.

You cocked your head at the bottle, the liquid inside an artificial yet soothing blue.

Why did he have that?

Bakugo stared down at the bottle in his hand, his red eyes quickly glancing at the writing on the side and setting it down on the counter, now rummaging for a cloth.

“This shit should work-”

Your hand grabbed the bottle, now inspecting it in curiosity.

“When did you get this?”

“Remember last time you came over,” he asked over his shoulder,” when the power went out in your apartment and you said you had to do your makeup?”

You simply nodded your head-you remembered that day. You had planned to go and watch a movie with your boyfriend-ex, and the screening was at exactly 12 am since it was premiering. You had wanted to look at least a little decent, but fate had gone against you and destroyed that plan halfway into putting on your makeup. So you had of coursed called Bakugo, who grumpily obliged to let you use his apartment.

Bakugo’s hands gently took the bottle from yours, his hot skin brushing against yours as he applied the liquid to the cloth. His frame fit snugly in between your legs, your inner thighs brushing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Well, You left it-”

He simply stated, everything in his being trying to keep his tone leveled as he began to wipe your skin clean of the events from the night.

You had never seen Bakugo be so gentle- he was taking his time, focusing on one small area and then moving onto the next. His strokes were even and light as air, not digging into your skin or forceful in any way.

“And- and you kept it?” you gulped out, your eyes searching his own vermillion ones.

Bakugo was scared, terrified even-he didnt want to look you in your eyes.

Would he do something he regretted if he did?

He was trying to control himself, to fight everything in him all night to not let you catch on to him, to not let you or himself see his true emotions...he was getting too tired to fight, and he was scared that he’d let something slip that he didnt even know about himself yet.

“Well yeah, I wasn't just going to throw it away,” he answered,” I figured you'd come and get it,”

He paused, his hand faltering against your skin for the smallest second. Maybe-it wouldn't hurt to say something...you were drunk after all, you wouldn't remember most of tonight probably….

“-also,” he gulped out, his heart beating in his chest, “ Its nice to have reminder of you here too,”

Your eyes instantly widened, the wind knocked out of your chest, constricting almost in pain.

Why did that make you feel so-so fluttery inside?

And why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because it almost sounded like-Bakugou may care for you? More than just a friendly way?

No-it couldn't….he was your best friend….but god, it felt so good to be cared for, to actually feel wanted-

And of course had to be by someone you knew you never had a chance with.

Your shoulders began to shake, realizing how much you must have screwed up-you lost your boyfriend, was humiliated by him, and then humiliated your own self by losing control.

Bakugo was the only one you had truly could count on-he was the one person you called, and he had shown up to get you. He had tried his best to keep you comfortable, went out of his way to keep you safe, his best to keep you happy…

How long had it been since someone had been this caring to you?

Your shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything crashing down on you, tears spilling across your cheeks like rain droplets outside a car window.

How did everything turn out so wrong?

Bakugo instantly noticed your change, his body instantly panicked and worried.

“Shit-y/n, you okay? Whats wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he set the cloth down and wrapped his hands around your forearms, securing you as wave after wave of tears racked your body.

He wrapped you into a slow hug, his warm palms placed firmly against your back as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

He felt so warm and safe, your noise buried into the soothingly sweet smell that was him.

“Katsuki I-I-Im sorry, I didnt mean to-” you blubbered out, trying your best to apologize over your heightened emotions.

Bakugo had no idea what to do- was this just something you did when drunk? He had no idea why you had started crying, and he hoped it wasn't something he did- but telling by how in pain you looked and how quickly you welcomed his embrace, this was something he didnt do and couldn't fix-at least not quickly.

He continued to hold you tightly, his hands beginning to become clammy against your back.

“Dont say sorry-Your fine, just- tell me whats wrong,”

He felt your hands ball his shirt in your fists, your chin digging deeper into his skin.

“I wish I could find a guy as great as you,”

Shit.

Bakugo’s face turned beet red, his arms stiffening at your words- when he asked what was wrong, he didnt mean something like that.

But the truth comes out when you're drunk, and Bakugo fully believed in this saying…

Did that mean-you liked him?

He couldn't deny it now- it was too hard and everything was against him at this point.

Just the small prospect of being your lover made Bakugo’s heart quicken, the little sentence you just uttered destroying the wall he had kept to protect himself from the truth.

He liked you.

Alot actually.

He scoffed, trying his best to remain calm as he cradled you in his arms.

“Im not as great as you think I am,”

He felt you cuddle yourself even deeper into his neck, your hair tickling his jawline.

You seemed to be calming down as Bakugo had had a mental crisis….your sobs were now sniffles, and you werent breathing as hard. But you still were cuddled deep into his body, as if using him to block yourself from the outside world.

“No you are, you really are…”you sighed quietly, “ even if you are an ass sometimes, you are very kind and sweet-

“I just wish I could date someone like you,”

Shit.

How could he even say anything after that?

How was even able to respond?

He wouldn't-Bakugo decided to hold you quietly, as if you never said anything...but those words were echoing inside his head.

God- you could date him in a heartbeat. But, reality kicked into Bakugou- you were drunk, and just got dumped. You were just starved of touch and affection from that.

There was no way sober you would have said something so revealing as this- you saw him as his best friend, nothing more and nothing less of that. You wouldn't jeopardize your relationship by saying something that could mean the end of your friendship.

Bakugo felt the tightness of your body loosen, your breathing now regular, something so different from a few minutes ago.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly, almost timidly as he waited for a response.

Nothing.

Bakugo sighed, a small, tired smile playing on his lips

“You fell asleep huh?”

Bakugo playfully rolled his eyes as your quiet demeanor spoke the truth for him.

His hands found themselves placed against your back, wrapping against your body once again so that your legs were around his waist, his arm supporting you as he carried you back to his room.

Maybe in the morning you would remember this...maybe not. He was conflicted- a part of him hope you didn't, so your relationship could resume as normal, but- something in him hoped you remembered. And hoped you wanted to talk more about it- because if you felt the same way and meant it, he wouldn't mind to see if you two could be more than just friends.

He pecked a look at your sleeping form, your smushed face against his shoulder making his heart fill with warmth.

“Shit-if only you knew...I would date you-

“even if your a giggly ass drunk,”

597 notes · View notes

mochegato · 3 years

Text

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 5 – Kobayashi Maru

“Why are you wearing that thing?” Conner teased Chimera with a playful lilt to his voice and pointing to her pink apron. She had wanted to make some treats for the team and roped him into helping her despite his objections. Apparently, sitting and watching Wolf attempt to play with Sphere wasn’t considered an adequate way to spend his morning.

Chimera raised an eyebrow at him. “To keep clean. Things can get messy when you’re baking.”

“Just don’t get dirty.” Conner responded easily. He leaned over to her with a mischievous look, “Bake better.”

Chimera gasped in fake offense and glared at him as she finished pouring the flour into the mixing bowl. “Whatever, oh kitchen guru.” She moved to get the buttermilk and looked over at him with a slightly too innocent expression. “Hey, can you turn on the blender for me, please?”

Conner grinned smugly from his apparent win and moved to the mixer to turn it on. He accidentally switched it to the highest level. He wasn’t able to move before a wave of flour flew out of the bowl and coated him in a thick coat of white. He fumbled for the off switch before turning toward Chimera with a questioning look. She doubled over in laughter as soon as she saw him. He groaned and started trying to shake and brush off the flour, but that just seemed to make it worse, spreading it further and pushing it into his shirt and pants. Chimera was now gasping for breath from laughing so hard until she fell on her butt, making her laugh harder. “That… that’s… that’s why I wear an apron,” she choked out.

“You…” Conner stared incredulously at her. “You did that on purpose.”

“No. I would never.” She tried to defend herself, but the wicked look in her eyes and the way she was biting her lip trying not to laugh as she leaned against the lower kitchen cabinets, gave her away.

“Is that so,” Conner asked, the mischievous glint back in his eye as he picked up the mixing bowl.

Chimera’s eyes widened as she realized his intention. “No, no, no. Conner.” She held up her hand in a placating gesture and tried backing away from him but she was already pressed against the cabinets so there was nowhere to go. Conner threw the contents of the bowl at her with a roguish grin. She squealed loudly as the ingredients hit her legs and her forearms that were protecting her head. “Conner!” she chastised him with no heat in her tone. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

“Then you’re really not going to believe this,” he grinned as he picked up the bowl of sugar they hadn’t added yet and threw that at her too.

Chimera was barely able to dodge out of the way in time and grabbed the container of baking powder and flicked it toward him. He just dodged it but the baking powder was just a distraction from the cocoa powder she threw at him next. The cocoa powder caught him in the neck and hair, the impact spreading it to his face and shirt. He recovered quickly and searched for something else to throw, coughing slightly from the cocoa powder that hung in the air.

“Okay, okay. Truce!” Chimera yelled holding her hands out placating. “The only ingredients left are wet ingredients and I really, really don’t want to clean that up. Truce?” She eyed him suspiciously, the same way he eyed her. He reached his hand out to her but his body was guarded in case she tried to go back on her word. Chimera tentatively reached out her hand as well, suspecting a counter strike, but their hands met without incident. They smiled at each other breathlessly.

Chimera pulled Conner into a hug and Conner wrapped his arms around her just as tight until he felt something granular sliding down his shirt. He looked at Chimera and groaned. She was shaking her hair out on his shoulder causing the sugar that had caught in her hair to fall on him as well. Chimera laughed even harder, her face turning red in the process. Conner laughed too in spite of himself.

After Chimera had calmed down a few minutes later, she surveyed the damage around them and glanced over to Conner. “Okay, do you want to help me redo this and we can clean together while it’s in the oven or do you want to clean while I bake?”

Conner surveyed the kitchen as he considered his options. “I’ll clean. It’s probably safer that way.” He sent her a mock glare that she laughed off.

Chimera hummed as she remixed the ingredients for the chocolate cupcakes. She was enjoying the moments of normalcy and lightness between missions. Things were just starting to settle down again into a routine after the last few weeks had rocked the Team to their core. She needed this reprieve and she was confident that Conner did too after everything that happened.

After the cakes were out of the oven and the kitchen had been cleaned with only themselves left to clean off, they grinned at each other. “I’ll frost those tonight after they’ve cooled. We both should probably get moving.” She smiled at him as she headed out of the kitchen. “Probably should take a shower first though.”

He smiled as he looked down at his clothes and raised an eyebrow at her. “And whose fault was that?”

She looked back at him with wide eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “You could have just not gotten dirty, right? So… yours.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and she smiled back brightly. Conner fought it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up and the chuckle from working its way out. “We’ll settle this later.” He waved at her as she left, his eyes following her until she was out of sight.

<><><><><>

The team watched in shock as Artemis’ body disappeared in a flash of light. That was… less than optimal. “Everyone get in the ship!” Aqualad called to them as he whipped out his water bearers to destroy the downed ship that had just eliminated their teammate.

As soon as the ship was destroyed, Aqualad joined Superboy, Robin, and Wally on the ship. “We need to rethink our approach to this. I still think a plan is needed, but going against them even as a sneak attack cost us Artemis and Wolf. There has to be a different way to address this.” Aqualad stated calmly.

“Head on didn’t work and sneak attack hasn’t seemed to work better.” Kid Flash added in the same academic tone as one would considering a word puzzle.

“Back to the Cave to regroup?” Robin asked from the ship’s controls.

“No, to the Hall of Justice. We need to consider the effect this is having on the people here as well. The people need to know there are still heroes out there.” Aqualad responded flippantly, keeping his focus on the horizon. His mind was still running through possible approaches. What had worked, what had failed, what they hadn’t tried, what had the most success and might work if it was reworked.

Suddenly Kid Flash gasped and pounded his fist on the ship’s controls. “Artemis is dead!” He jumped up. “They killed Artemis. Artemis died right in front of us.”

Aqualad put his hand on Kid Flash’s shoulder. “Her sacrifice will not be in vain. We will avenge her.”

“I’m going to kill every last one of them.” Kid Flash vowed looking out to the skies, searching for any he could shoot.

“Has anyone heard from Chimera?” Conner asked, his eyes suddenly looking frantic.

“No, she hasn’t contacted the Cave since the aliens attacked.” Aqualad confirmed.

“Robin, check the communication in and out of the Cave. See if there is a message from Chi in there.” Superboy commanded anxiously.

Robin connected to the Cave. “Nothing at the Cave. I’m checking the Hall of Justice right now.” He kept searching but his eyes were getting more and more worried as he did. “Nothing… there’s nothing. The Hall’s communication networks have been destroyed so we wouldn’t know even if she had tried.”

Aqualad placed his hand on Superboy’s shoulder, just as he had for Kid Flash. “I’m sorry.”

Superboy jerked away like he had been burned. “No. We don’t know that anything happened to her. She could be fine. There were no reports that she was killed.”

“That’s right.” Robin encouraged him. “We’ll keep fighting to find her. The quicker we end this attack, the quicker we can find her.” Aqualad grimaced at Robin who responded with a dark look of his own. “We’re coming up on DC. It looks like we’re not the only ones.” He said indicating the alien ships that were heading toward the Capitol Building.

“Let’s destroy these bastards.” Kid Flash growled already aiming the weapons systems on the closest one.

“We can’t shoot them all. Superboy, you think you can take one on your own?” Aqualad asked, keeping his eyes on the screen and formulating a plan.

Superboy gave him a feral grin. “Absolutely.”

“Good. We sneak up on them, drop Conner on the closest one then start moving onto the next and work our way through. Once they’re all taken care of we start working with the army to combine forces and assess our assets.”

Conner took a deep breath, bracing himself for his next move. They had already lost the entire Justice League, Wolf was dead, Artemis was dead, and nobody had heard from Chimera. He didn’t want to think she was dead, but… the odds were not in her favor. But she was magic and had already survived attacks he didn’t think anyone could survive. And she was a strategist. If anyone could come up with a plan for her and for them, it was her.

“Ready?” Robin called out to him.

“Just give me the sign. I’ll take them out.” Superboy turned back to the hatch below with a determined stare.

“Opening the hatch. I’ll count you down. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Jump!” Robin called out.

Superboy jumped and landed directly on the alien ship with enough force to create a massive dent in the ship. He ripped off the canon and began punching the ship as hard and rapidly as he could manage. He was too laser focused to notice the Team’s ship firing on the ship that came up behind his, destroying that ship, leaving three more ships. The Team’s ship started firing on the next ship, bringing the other ships’ attention to them.

Conner whipped around to assess the situation. His ship wasn’t completely destroyed yet, but disabled. If he could jump on another, he could disable that as well, making it easier for the Team’s ship to destroy them. Before the ships could start firing, a portal opened immediately in front of one of the ships. The ship flew in and suddenly the next ship over exploded and the two ships crashed, followed almost immediately by the third ship exploding from the Team’s fire.

Superboy’s ship glided down, crashing on the National Mall, skidding to a stop just in front of it. Superboy jumped just before it came to a stop, landing in a crouch in front of the army forces stationed in front of the Capitol Building, the Team’s ship landing just behind him. Superboy looked up to the army and stopped short, his breath catching in his chest.

Standing in front of the army forces was Chimera, standing tall, a little disheveled, a bit bloody, but standing and smiling brilliantly at Superboy. Superboy’s eyes lit up and he started running to her. Chimera jumped in his arms, laughing heartily in relief. Superboy hugged her tight, spinning her around in his excitement to see her. Chimera looked down to brush the nonexistent hair out of his face, cupping his face in the process, her grin growing impossibly bigger as she did. Superboy’s eyes were crinkling from the large smile spreading on his face that only got larger as Chimera leaned down to touch her lips to his.

Her lips were soft and yielding and everything he had been dreaming they would be... not that he had been dreaming about her... he just... had been... repeatedly. The kiss was exactly everything he had dreamed it would be. It filled him with warmth and comfort at the same time, making his heart race.

They broke apart, gasping for breath after what felt like no time at all and forever at the same time. Chimera smiled sappily at him, not letting him move his face too far from hers. “I don’t want to wait until the next world ending event to do that again.”

Conner looked back at her with desire and shook his head. “I don’t want to wait at all.” He whispers heartily, capturing her lips and letting the emotion sweep over him again. The kiss was hungrier than the first, more assured in their mutual desire. A reprieve from the devastation and loss. A dream in the middle of a nightmare.

They broke apart when they heard someone clearing their throats. “She’s kissing Superman.” “That’s not Superman. He’s too young. And where’s the cape?”

“He’s better. He’s Superboy.” Chimera responded without sparing the interrupter a glance, keeping her eyes on Superboy’s.

He twined his hand into her hair, gently setting her down to cup her face with his other hand and keeping her close. He pulled away slightly, still touching her, not willing to give up on that reassurance that she was still there, that she was alive and by his side. “So this is where you go to” he said with a smirk but eyes still showing how relieved he was to see her.

“Guess my secret is out,” she smiled at him, cupping her hands over his. “I’m glad you finally know. I hated keeping it from you.”

Conner rested his forehead on hers and let out a deep shuttering breath. “We thought you were dead. Don’t ever do that again.”

Chimera squeezed her eyes shut and nuzzled her face into his hands. “The zeta tubes I knew about were down and I was fighting here. I couldn’t abandon them.”

Kid Flash broke free from Robin’s grip and stalked over to them. “So this is where you have been this whole time. We could have used your help. We were fighting alone. Artemis was fighting alone.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to Artemis.” She looked at him with guilt and compassion in her eyes. “I wish I could have been there for you, for my Team.”

Kid Flash moved so he was only a few inches from her face. “But you weren’t. And now Artemis is dead.” He growled at her.

A guilty, hurt look spread across Chimera’s face and she backed away from Kid Flash, seeming to shrink at his censure. Superboy moved in front of her, pushing Kid Flash away. “That’s enough. She was saving civilians. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. What happened to Artemis isn’t anyone’s fault but the aliens’.”

Aqualad walked up to them and placed a hand on Kid Flash’s shoulder. “He’s right. Circumstances were extreme. We are a team. We need to start acting like it and focus on taking down the aliens, not each other.”

Kid Flash glared at Chimera before looking away. He knew, he knew it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t stop a part of his brain from blaming her. But, blaming her wouldn’t help the situation. It wouldn’t bring Artemis back. They needed to stop the aliens before they killed more people and they needed her for that. “So what’s our next step?”

Aqualad looked over the wreckage formulating a plan, and trying to keep his anger in check. “We’ll salvage as many of the alien’s cannons as possible.” His face morphed as his anger took over. “Then we take back what is ours.”

<><><><><>

The Hall of Justice didn’t offer any particular insights, just a sense of familiarity and fleeting safety in their decidedly unsafe and insecure position. It wasn’t the Cave, it wasn’t their home, but it was a symbol of hope to people around the world and had been to them. And hope was something they all needed more of today.

Aqualad sat with the army general talking tactics while the other army men watched the perimeter and tried to take a second to themselves. Kid Flash and Robin were running tests on the alien cannons to learn more about them. A look of frustration and concentration set on Kid Flash’s face. They were going to figure this out. They needed to avenge Artemis and their mentors. Robin watched the results of one test come in and launched into the next test with calm and determined eyes, his mouth set in a thin line, the very picture of traught. He would deal with the emotions later. Right now, the priority had to be their analysis. They needed to figure out how to defeat the aliens or they were all going to die. There was no time for emotions right now.

Superboy and Chimera stood sentry at the main entrance, no longer holding hands now that the initial wave of relief had passed and they were on a mission, but standing close enough that Superboy could feel the heat from her body. Both had their eyes trained on the skies, but he occasionally darted his eyes to her just to reassure himself that she was there. “I’m sorry about Wolf.” She said quietly, eyes still on the sky.

Superboy’s eyes moved to her for longer, focusing on her. He could see the sorrow in her eyes as she said it, even though she refused to take her eyes off the skies for even a moment. Every bit the professional as he expected from her, pushing away her emotions until the mission was over. But too worried and grieved for him to wait to say something. “He died protecting me.” Superboy grumbled looking back to the sky. He wouldn’t cry. There had been so much death and destruction. It was ridiculous to cry over one pet.

Chimera nodded solemnly. “That’s what you do for the people you love, you risk your life for them. Sometimes you lose it for them.” Superboy could see the tears trying to escape that she held tight to. “And he loved you.”

Superboy opened his mouth to say something too fast, too deep, something he knew she wasn’t ready to hear, but before he could Kid Flash yelled out saving him from himself. “Guys! Look what I found! Look at this!”

The Team along with General Eiling moved over to him. “What did you find?” Aqualad asked, unmoved by Kid Flash’s excitement.

“Zeta-beam radiation!” Kid Flash exclaimed excitedly. “The cannons have zeta-beam radiation! The same as our zeta tubes.” He was nearly bouncing with excitement. “They aren’t disintegration beams, they are teleporting beams. Do you know what that means?” He grabbed Chimera by her shoulders to make sure she was entirely focused on him, the one person on the Team who could match his levels of excitement. The one person who could mutually indulge in extreme emotions. His smile was so big and bright, it almost brought hope back to the structure all on its own. “They’re alive. They aren’t killing people, they’re taking them hostage! We can save them.”

Chimera smiled widely at him. “We can save Artemis.” Kid Flash started giggling with happiness as he nodded at her words, hugging her tight. The hug he gave her turned into a dive for cover when the building was rocked with an explosion, Chimera covering his body with hers. As soon as the rocking stopped, the Team and soldiers popped their heads up assessing the situation. “We’re surrounded, sir.” One of the soldiers at the entrance reported. “At least twelve ships out there, sir.” Another soldier called back.

“There’s no way to make it to our ship,” Robin commented.

“We need to move to the Zeta tubes. Robin, I need you to run ahead and hack the system to get authorization for the soldiers.” Aqualad called over to him as he wrapped one of the soldiers’ arms over his shoulders.

“On it,” Robin calls already running toward the zeta tubes. By the time the rest of the Team, each supporting at least one soldier, got to the room he had the system hacked and was already scanning soldiers. They all braced themselves and jumped out of the way of falling chunks of ceiling as more explosions rocked the building.

Superboy searched out Chimera after the latest particularly bad explosion, breathing a sigh of relief when he found her standing unharmed near the zeta tube. “That one sounded like it came from the inside.” He reported loudly.

“They appear to have breached the perimeter. They will be here soon. We need to move.” Aqualad stated gravely. “Chimera, you go through first and signal us if it is safe.”

“What? No! You don’t know what you’re sending her into,” Superboy objected.

Aqualad shook his head. “Chimera has a nearly indestructible suit. If there is something on the other side, she will be best equipped to withstand it.” He nodded to Chimera to signal her to move.

Chimera nodded back and gave Superboy a weak smile. “See you on the other side.” Superboy nodded back. He would see her. They would see each other and he would kiss her again. He watched as Chimera disappeared through the zeta tube, holding his breath until they heard a signal come through to Robin.

“She’s okay. She says it’s safe.” Robin reported. Superboy let out the breath he had been holding.

“Everyone start moving.” Aqualad commanded. “Soldiers first.”

“No,” General Eiling countermanded. “We cannot risk losing more heroes. You go first.” Aqualad squared up against him ready to argue. “We don’t have time to argue. This is non-negotiable. You. Go. First.”

Aqualad grunted in displeasure but nodded. “Kid Flash, you go through next, Robin, you next, followed by Superboy. I’ll go next, followed by the army soldiers. Time is a factor. Move quickly.” Kid Flash looked between them, but moved to the tube quickly. Robin frowned at Aqualad, but moved to the tube to wait his turn.

The Team and the soldiers in the room waited impatiently for their turns to make it through the zeta tube. It didn’t take long for each person to go through, but they didn’t have time to wait. They could hear the explosions and the destruction nearing them quicker than they had. It went against their natures to just stand by and do nothing, but there was nothing to do, not until the room was breached.

Robin had just made it through the tube when there was a flash of blinding light and everything seemed to freeze for a few moments before returning to normal. Aqualad and Superboy shook their heads in confusion, the light having done something to their heads, causing momentary confusion. When they looked back up, the door to their stronghold had been blown apart and the aliens were entering in droves. The room erupted into a cacophony of yells, screams, weapons’ fire, and fighting. “Superboy, get in the tube.” Aqualad yelled to him as he attacked an alien.

Superboy opened his mouth to object but quickly dived out of the way of an oncoming shot. “Now!” Aqualad yelled again. Superboy moved quickly to the tube, keeping an eye on the aliens as he waited for the tube to recognize him and shoot him with the zeta beam energy. He gasped as an alien aimed at him. It was a race between the zeta beam energy and the alien’s weapon. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the hit that never came.

When he opened his eyes he saw Chimera’s grinning face. He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her neck. He pulled away just enough to kiss her again, weaving his hand into her hair to pull her closer.

“The tube is down.” Robin reported gravely from his position at the zeta tube controls. The rest of the Team turned to him in question. “The Hall of Justice tube entrance is not responding. Likely destroyed. We should not expect survivors.”

Kid Flash and Chimera gasped at the declaration. Chimera buried her face in Superboy’s chest. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. He pulled her closer and rested his head on hers, trying to whisper comforting words, but there were none. There was no comfort in this situation. The only comfort he had found in this entire situation was her, so he hugged her closer like the symbol of hope she was to him.

Chapter 6

Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion @vroomtaka @laurcad123 @just-an-observer-ignore-me @emimar7 @moonlightstar64 @maribat-writing-and-prompts @aespades @yokomisaki @glastwime859 @mysticknown @glastwime859 @fan-written @stackofrandomstuff @jalaluvsu @ultimatetornshipper @charme-de-malchan @lozzybowe @deathwishy @too0bsessedformyowngood @kokotaru @ichigorose

#maribat #capturing a dream #connette #connerette #marikon #connor x marinette #Marinette x Conner

136 notes · View notes

whimperwoods · 3 years

Text

The Goblin and the Giant

Ok so I saw this post by @pleasancies and holy cow?? I love it?? So here, have the biggest whumpee and the tiniest caretaker (she said and then immediately whumped them the other way around a little bit, but like... just wait for it, it’s there):

Venk’s entire body was on edge, thrumming with adrenaline. This was the worst part of being a scout, or maybe the best. Whatever was crashing around out here in the woods was big, and for a while earlier, at least, it had been getting closer to camp. He needed to get to it, get information, and get back in time for everyone to get ready, or to run.

He darted between trees, staying in the shadows where the moonlight didn’t reach, light and silent on his feet, and with a firm grip on his spear that only mostly made him feel safer.

When he saw the thing, it took him a minute to work out what it was.

It was a foot, on the end of a leg, attached to a hip, and then to a body he could barely see, it was so high up. The foot, wrapped in an enormous roll of cloth, swung through the air and then landed on its tiptoes. It was a giant. And it was sneaking.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

For about a minute and a half, he scrambled alongside the giant’s slow, careful steps that crunched branches underfoot and nearly shook the ground, realizing as he did so that the giant was moving parallel to the camp, keeping a distance instead of coming closer.

Then, Venk got distracted, too absorbed in watching the enormous feet swinging overhead to spot the wasp’s nest in the ground until his own foot was in it.

He yelped at the first stings, too surprised to keep it in, and the giant seemed startled, too, the feet leaping backward away from the noise and coming down hard enough to shake the ground and make the wasps even angrier.

Venk pulled his foot out of the nest and scrambled instinctively up a large rock nearby to get away, cursing vociferously when the wasps flew up with him, continuing to sting.

An enormous hand reached down and grabbed Venk by the back of his ratty leather armor, lifting him up toward the giant’s face.

“Oh no,” the giant boomed, clearly trying to whisper to him.

Venk was still being stung, but that was suddenly much less important. He growled, baring his teeth, and brandished his spear in the direction of the face. “Put me down! Put me down, or I’ll put your eye out!”

“Oh! Ouch! There’s uhhh - there’s stingy things down there. Let me - uh - uh - over here.”

The giant held him at arm’s reach, took several long, hurried strides toward a nearby clearing, definitely shaking the ground this time, and set Venk back down on top of another large rock, about 400 feet from where they’d started.

Venk brandished his spear again and was surprised to see the giant shrinking away from him, one arm up in front of his face as if to protect himself from something.

Venk turned quickly to look behind himself, but saw no one. He looked back at the giant, raising his spear higher again. “Stay back!” he ordered, “What are you doing here?”

The giant had grey, stony skin, and was both thinner and narrower than most giants Venk had seen before - though, he supposed, he’d only ever seen the other ones at a distance, so perhaps he just didn’t know how to judge.

“Please don’t hurt me!” the giant said, “The master says I have to get into those ruins over there,” his huge hand pointed in the direction of Venk’s camp, and the ruins behind it they were supposed to explore in the morning. “He sent me to bring something back for him, but then I saw your camp, and I - I promise I was trying to go around!”

“What kind of something?” Venk asked, curious in spite of himself.

“It’s, um - it’s some kind of sphere, I think. It’s very magic. He said I’d know it because it was very magic and if I wanted to be sure not to disappoint him, I could just bring everything that seems magic. I - I don’t mean to - to - it’s -”

The giant’s voice started faltering, and his shoulders shrunk inward, his enormous arms coming up around his middle as he hugged himself, wilting visibly in front of Venk’s eyes.

The goblin glanced back over his shoulder one more time, verifying that it was really just the two of them, and then sighed, lowering his spear.

As frightened as the giant seemed to be of him, there was no way he could do any real damage. Not when he knew he was knee-high to the giant at best, with a spear the giant could have perhaps held as a pencil, but not as a spear.

“Can you come down here so I can talk to you?” he asked, putting the spear down and raising his empty hands. “I promise not to stab your eyes out. Just don’t grab me again.”

“Oh!” The giant’s eyes widened, and then it was falling to its knees next to his rock, so fast that the stone underneath Venk shook a little.

Even on his knees, the giant loomed over Venk and his two-foot rock, but he seemed to realize it pretty quickly and fell backward onto his butt with another shuddering crash. Then he pulled in on himself again, as if he were trying to be as small as possible, which didn’t actually do much to put him at Venk’s height, but did make Venk feel a confused tangle of emotions.

Now that he was closer to the giant’s head, he could see a huge, nasty-looking collar around his neck, black leather studded through with small metal lightning bolt shapes. Above and below the collar radiated several overlapping sets of electrical scars, like the giant had been struck by lightning a dozen times. He winced sympathetically.

“Alright,” Venk said, trying not to squander the giant’s apparent intimidation before he figured out he could probably crush Venk between his palms in a single motion. “It seems like maybe this is a time when we ought to just make a deal. That sound good?”

“I - I don’t think I can. I have to give the master what he wants.” The giant was - shaking? He pulled even farther in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Venk couldn’t see the collar anymore, but he could see scars crisscrossing the giant’s shins.

“Why?” Venk asked, “What kind of master have you got, that you’re that scared?”

The giant shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t, if he found out I told his name -” he looked half-panicked, his breathing getting quicker, “I can’t!”

Venk held his hands up in front of him, trying to calm the giant down. “Whoa! Hey, no. No names. You don’t tell me your master’s name, I won’t tell you my clan’s name, everybody’s happy. I’m guessing he’s some kind of mage or demon or devil or something, if he wants his name safe?”

The giant nodded, but didn’t indicate which one.

“What’s he want the orb for, anyway?”

The giant shrugged one huge shoulder.

“See, that’s gonna be kind of a problem. My clan’s got this whole thing with the orb. We’re camped there to go find it, ‘cause we’ve got this whole underground war going with a bunch of kobolds and it’s supposed to get us a dragon on our side or something, and even if I was going to let you go around past our camp, which I’m not sure the others would be thrilled about, I get the feeling our shaman’s gonna say we’ve gotta kill you before we let you take the orb.”

Venk adjusted his stance as he was talking, ready to leap backward off the rock and away from a blow if he needed to, but instead the giant wailed.

“Whoa, hey!” Venk said, patting at the air between them as if it would help, “Hey, calm down, you’ve gotta be quiet, there’s worse around here than wasps.”

The giant was weeping, and that was - huh. That was something else, too.

“I d-don’t wanna die!” he blubbered.

Venk took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he spoke again. “Hey, buddy, it’s alright. I didn’t say we would kill you, just that I figure that’s what the shaman would say. Maybe we take the orb, we do whatever magical mumbo-jumbo gets us a dragon long enough for it to tell those kobolds to fuck off and give us our caves back, and then we let you have it. I’m just saying we gotta be clever about it, is all.”

The giant shook his head fiercely. “No, my master will know. My master will know I wasted time. I shouldn’t even have gone around I - I don’t want to kill anyone, but I have to make it back, I -” he reached up around his neck, wrapping his hand over the collar, “I have to make it back with what he wants, I - I have to please him.”

Venk felt a stab of something through his heart and sighed again, sliding carefully off the rock and landing on his less swollen foot. He was an idiot, and he was about to die for it, but at least none of the rest of the clan was around to see it. They’d probably assume he’d done something heroic when they found the pulpy mess of his body out here. Probably.

He stepped up to the giant’s side and patted his huge ankle. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s alright, I don’t want you to kill anyone, either. You gotta calm down. We can figure this out.”

We can figure this out. As if he even knew what “this” was. The giant’s sobs grew a little softer, though. Venk patted his ankle again. “There, there.”

“I shouldn’t have talked to you,” the giant said miserably, starting to pull himself together, “Master always says it’s my own fault things are so awful and upsetting, ‘cause I don’t kill people fast enough. And now I’ll be sad even if I do kill you fast enough, which I don’t even want to do.”

Venk looked up at the huge figure. This close, he could tell that the scars along the giant’s shins were burn scars, like he’d been standing in fire. The lightning scars on his chest and face weren’t really visible at this angle, but there were a couple of small but deep bruises dotting his ribs, black against the stony grey of the rest of the his skin.

“Ok, buddy,” he said, making a decision even as he spoke. “Let’s take a step back. Let’s take a step back from the orb. What’s up with you and that master? He got anything on you, or is it just that collar up there?”

The giant shook his head and said nothing.

“I won’t tell. Not a soul. Just between you and me. I just need to know what I’m dealing with here. Gotta get all the options on the table, you know? And then once we’ve looked at the table, it’s all between you and me still, alright?”

“It - it’s mostly the collar,” the giant said, voice so faint it actually came across as a whisper this time.

“Well, then we’ll get it off you, and then you don’t have to kill anybody. How’s that sound?”

The giant shook his head again, vehemently, wrapping his hands around the collar again. “No! It’s locked. It’s locked, and it’s got traps! It’ll shock me and it’ll shock you, and then he’ll know, and then -” Venk could hear the giant starting to cry again, “And then he’ll know!”

Venk breathed deeply again, trying to center himself. “Ok. Ok. That’s - good to have on the table. You’re gonna be ok, buddy.” He patted the giant’s ankle again.

As the giant continued to sniffle and snort and try to get ahold of himself, Venk breathed deeply and tried to think. How serious was he? How dumb was this? He bit his lip and kept patting the giant’s ankle, weighing the dangers to himself, the giant, and the clan.

Finally, he stepped forward and leapt up to tug at the giant’s sleeve. “Hey, buddy. One more idea, ok? One more idea. We’re gonna take another step back. I’ve got this amulet,” he lifted it out from under the collar of his armor, “And it dispells one spell a day. Only the best of our scouts have ‘em, so you’re lucky it was me that found you, but they’re made to get us out of a tricky spot. If I turn the spell off and pick the lock myself, are you gonna get hurt? Or just me?”

“But what if he finds out?” the quiet hiss was still louder than a whisper, but Venk appreciated the attempt.

“Then you tell him I did it. You tell him a tree fell on you and I came across you before you could get out from under and I thought maybe if I took off that collar I could be your master, only then it zapped me and I died and you’re still a good boy following directions, or whatever.”

“What if it does kill you?”

“Then you tell my clan to get back underground before your master gets here, and you go on forward to the ruins like you were going to anyway. I’ll write a note for them.”

The giant shook his head. “I can’t escape.”

Venk looked around and, finding no body part particularly convenient for grabbing, leapt up to tug at the giant’s sleeve again. “Give me your hand.”

The hand that came to rest on the ground beside him was too big to hold, but he wrapped his hands seriously around the giant’s thumb, trying not to think too much about babies and their hands, just now. “I promise, I can do this. And if I can’t, you weren’t gonna get away before, either. But if I can, then you can get away when you couldn’t before. That’s worth a try, right?”

The giant bit his lip, but didn’t immediately say no.

“What’s your name, friend?” Venk asked, “Mine’s Venk. I can promise you by name, if you want.”

This time, the giant’s eyes widened. “F-Falgh, Sir.”

Sir. Huh. “Falgh, I promise, if you let me try to take that collar off, I’ll be as careful as I can and I’ll give you the best shot I know how to give. Ok?”

Falgh closed his eyes, but then nodded, once, quickly.

Venk took a deep breath and nodded back. “Alright. Let’s try it. Bend forward so I can stand on the top of your back and get at that latch.”

Clambering up a living being was an odd feeling, even one that was lying on its stomach, but Falgh helped, clearly trying to flatten his back as much as he could under Venk’s feet.

The amulet flashed with a soft light and a pleasant heat, and then Venk set to work with a set of thieves tools, wishing he had more practice on things that weren’t manacles.

Then the lock clicked audibly, and both their bodies tensed immediately, but nothing happened.

“There we go,” Venk whispered, “I think I’ve got it. Let me try to open it.” The mechanism that closed the collar was more clamp than buckle, clearly designed for medium-sized hands, which sent a little half-shiver through Venk’s spine to think about. Falgh wasn’t medium-sized, either.

He held his breath as he pried open the clasp, and then - the collar fell free.

He almost fell over as Falgh let out a great, heaving sigh of relief, tension draining from his muscles. “Whoa!”

The giant froze again. “Sorry.”

Venk bent down and patted the giant’s back, beside where he was standing, “It’s ok, bud. I get it.” He wasn’t sure he did, but it seemed like the thing to say.

Falgh nodded, seriously, which also jarred Venk a little bit, and he hurried to scramble back off the giant’s back.

As he settled back onto the ground by the giant’s face, Falgh looked at him with big, soft grey eyes, and whispered, “Are you my master now? Or was that just for pretend, if it didn’t work?”

One answer to that question was clearly more interesting than the other, but he knew he could never give it, even as it crossed his mind.

He placed a small hand on Falgh’s huge cheek. “It was just for pretend, Falgh. I don’t mind if you come with me, though. I’m sure you’d be a great help in the ruins. Or you can go somewhere and hide. I’d understand that, too.”

Falgh’s eyes were dark, serious as they gazed into his own. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? I’m -” his eyes darted away, “I’m not convenient. Or sneaky. Or very good at things”

Venk raised an eyebrow. “Think you’d be good at carrying me back to camp? My one foot’s pretty bad. Dunno how much you feel wasp stings, but I feel ‘em kind of a lot, just now.”

Falgh’s eyes widened, darting back to Venk’s face. “Oh! Yeah, I can do that! If you want.” He bit his lip. “Will the - will the shaman still want to kill me?”

Venk smiled, patting Falgh’s cheek again. “Not if you’re with me, buddy. Not if you’re with me.”

#whump #fantasy whump #giant whumpee #tiny caretaker #d&d whump #bc i DO a LITTLE bit cheat at worldbuilding lol #coersion tw #collars tw #wasps tw #I doubt I'll write more of this bc I dont' need another series to work on #but it was super super fun to do so thanks again for the inspo!!#also to be most clear Venk's voice sounds like an old-timey cowboy in that not-quite-a-southern-accent-but-almost kind of gunslingery way #in case that was not coming across or was coming across just as casual/informal

26 notes · View notes

malkumtend · 3 years

Text

Their Booth (Human SquirrelCrow) - Part 2.

He’d be lying if he said her room was any different from what he expected. Light yellow walls that became vibrant in the strong sun, white bedsheets patched with warm orange stripes, a bookcase piled with texts on film theory and more Stephen King novels than Crow thought existed, another bookcase completely stacked with Blu-rays and obscure DVD’S, and an entire wall plastered with film posters. It was honestly quite scary to look that way and find a hundred pairs of eyes, mostly behind the gleam of a weapon, glaring back at you.

Spirited, flashy, intense. It was just what he imagined. It was her.

It was welcoming.

She throws her bag across the room, slumping back on her bed. “I’m so tired.”

Crow sets his own bag down. “Why?”

“It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh really?” Crow begins scanning the pile of books. “What have you done?”

She kicks her boots off. “I got ten pages of the new script done.” She says, sitting up to pull her coat from her arms. “Took me around two hours.”

“Wow.” Crow deadpans, pretending to look wide-eyed. “I only had to run three marathons today. How did you survive?”

He only sees the coat for a second, floating like a ghost, before his face is covered by green.

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak.”

In the darkness, Crow chuckles. He’s smiling by the time he pulls the coat off. “Takes one to know one.”

Squirrel has an arched brow, as well as her boot armed back, ready to throw.

Crow gently puts the coat on her door. “So, what do you want to start with?” He unzips his bag, scrambling for his English textbook.

The ginger girl groans, but mercifully lets Crow’s face go un-booted. “Ugh! Seriously! We just got out and you want to study!”

Crow rolls his eyes, but the laughter warms his throat. “That’s kind of why I’m here, Squirrel.” He looks to her door uneasily. “At least it’s the only reason your mom didn’t kill me.” Sandstorm had been nice enough, told him that she’d heard nothing but great things about him from Squirrel (her daughter had denied that - blushing) but he could feel the warning squeeze as he shook her hand, and he could have sworn he’d seen her nod when he’d looked up in question.

The familiar flash of a mother’s eyes. If you like your kneecaps in their normal place, no funny business.

She hadn’t needed to say it. Crow had nodded vigorously. Message received.

“Oh, please.” Squirrel sits up again, her hands slipping her hair back over her shoulders. “She’d kill you regardless. She’s like a shark. And what do you mean? You don’t hang out to study! That’s like the opposite of hanging out!”

Crow paused, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Truthfully, he didn’t care about studying. He was on course for an A, and as far as he knew so was Squirrel. But her parents wanted to make sure she kept on that road. It had been Leaf who had begged Crow to give her a hand. As much as she loved her sister, she had her own studying (and girlfriend) to see to. Squirrel apparently hadn’t been too on board with the idea. It was ‘too humiliating’ apparently.

It was when Fireheart suggested asking Bramble to come back and help her that Squirrel finally resigned to texting Crow non-stop until he agreed.

He’d actually agreed after the first text.

Crow knew full well how little Squirrel wanted to see Bramble anymore. The idiot still hadn’t mentioned Squirrel’s film to her. Whenever he was mentioned Squirrel shifted and made a face that Crow hated to see her make.

He suspected that she still wasn’t over him just yet.

And while that was understandable, it cut into Crow for more reasons than one.

That was why he wanted to make sure they got some work done. If her parents walked in and saw Crow wasn’t doing what he was meant to come over for, he had no doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to sack him off and call Bramble back.

The thought of that made his fists clench.

“Well, it might be better if you remember I’m not here to hang out.”

“Oh, so this is just work for you?” She sighs like one of the actresses she would direct. “And here I thought there was something special between us.”

That shouldn’t sting as much as it does. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t even know.

“Not my fault you’re wrong.” He plays along. “Look, let’s just do an hour at least. Then if your parents come in, they’ll keep of your back for the rest of the night.”

Squirrel pouts sulkily and Crow knows she’s considering it. She never let it look like she was giving up. She always had to show some restraint, real or imaginary. He turns back to the textbook now. He scans through for subjects she needs work on. He’s split between starting with Poetry or Analysing the role of women in Dystopian Fiction.

There is a creaking that moves across the bed towards him. Two hands curl on the base of his skull, digging in softly. He knows from the extra weight that she has balanced her chin on her hands. It’s not a lot of force he needs to keep himself up, but the heat on his face is slightly worrying.

He feels her elbows on his shoulders. “Can’t we make it half an hour?” She asks her human table.

Somehow, he shrugs. “If you want your mother to get the belt, sure.”

“You’d like the pain.”

“If it’s yours, then you’re damn right.”

“Sadist.”

They both talk so simply, words rolling off in the natural balance they’d built.

She sighs, her hands move off his head and onto his shoulders. His body is dragged back a little as she curves back with a contemplating mutter. A twist of shame and a happy flutter simultaneously come over the boy. He almost feels he could lose his balance. The fear of discovery is what keeps him stoic. He wonders a little if he’s always been like this about these things. He doesn’t think it was like this around Feather, but how could he know? Denial was probably his eternal security when it came to his own pathetic attempts of keeping cool.

The fingers on his shoulders all tap then slap down lightly. “An hour and then a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Can I pick it?”

“Will it be Breakfast Club?”

“Possibly.”

He didn’t know how many times she’d seen it, but four was enough for him. “An hour and something new.”

Squirrel leans forward again; she practically sings into his ear. “Can I still pick the new film?”

He says yes, if only to make sure she can’t see his eyes widen.

She doesn’t as she falls back, shoving him gently. “Let’s start with poetry then. I’d rather get the worst done quickly.”

It doesn’t go quickly for her, Crow can see. After every point she makes she checks the clock and audibly gnashes her teeth when she sees only another minute has passed. With an actor’s heart, she falls back dramatically at least half a dozen times, murmuring a prayer. Crow learns not to pay her the attention after the third time. They needed to get the work done. It turns out the best trick to get her back up is to just tap her ankle with the textbook, gently prodding her like a woodpecker, until she sits back up.

But as dramatic and reserved as she was, she definitely isn’t an idiot. She doesn’t stumble on her points. They come out smooth and rehearsed with the diction of someone who knows what they’re talking about. Presumably because she knew if she struggled it would mean more time on the stuff she hated. That makes it go just a little quicker.

She actually answers them easier than when Crow has to speak, to her evil delight.

“I thought you were meant to be the tutor here.”

“I’d call myself your warden more than anything.”

Crow isn’t as annoyed as would have been. He can’t deny that she’s smarter than him here. Bragging rights were hers.

Besides, she looked happy.

Also, he’d get his chance to brag eventually. They’d have to move onto math sooner or later.

They only get two interruptions through the whole hour. The first is Sandstorm, under the guise of checking in on them, asking if they needed anything. Once she saw her daughter actually working, Crow was relieved to see her grin at him thankfully before heading away. He’d been holding in that breath of relief like an ancient treasure.

The second is Moth, carrying in an iced tea for Squirrel and a mocha (with a froth of whipped cream stirred in) for Crow. She’d been getting drinks for her and Leaf and said she felt guilty if they weren’t getting anything as well. Crow has to admit, Leaf had great taste in women. Moth was almost unnervingly friendly and bizarrely just as much of a genius as her girlfriend, she’d already been offered a medical scholarship. It was even more amazing considering what Crow had heard about her… background.

Leaf had been right about that Hawk guy. She didn’t mention him much, but when he came up and Moth was in the room, the girl shook with such sheer fear that Crow would not have imagined it was her brother they’d mentioned.

Apparently, she was doing better though. For reasons that Crow knew were none of his business, Hawk had been thrown out of his and Moth’s home. Where he was now, Moth didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. The others respected that. All they needed to do was stand by her and help if she needed it. But her auburn hair looked less withered, her cheeks had more colour, and she showed off her impressive height without the scrunched gait she had seemed to linger in before.

As long as she was happy, Leaf was happy. Crow and Squirrel just did what they could to make sure it stayed that way.

And that was easy when she was so damn nice. That mocha had been delicious.

Five minutes later, they call it a session.

“That’s a wrap!” Squirrel stretches her arms up triumphantly. The sleeves she wears are too big and roll down clumsily. She says it makes her look bigger. Crow doesn’t get the logic but he says nothing.

“For today.” Crow spites playfully.

His friend makes a raspberry. “That’s all that matters.” As if the tension and stress has evaporated, she jumps off of the bed, rushing over to her Blu-ray collection. Crow still feels like he should whistle at the multitude of titles she owned, they must have made up at least $300. He’d mentioned it once. She’d shot back if it was necessary to own a dozen pairs of running shoes. He had tried to tell her how each shoe was more adaptable to certain tracks or states of weather, but she was about as interested as he’d been about why it was necessary to own, like six, various versions of Blade Runner.

Whatever they did with their money, they decided, was their own business.

“What to watch. What to watch.” She pulls cases out one by one, her face igniting with thought at every cover.

Crow rolled his head back onto the head of her bed. “Pick anything.” He isn’t that fussy about these things. Whether it was some art-house thing he wouldn’t understand, or some Disney flick where Squirrel would know the words to every song in the thing, and sing along right in front of him, he’d sit and watch.

“Oh okay, then-”

He just makes it. “Not Breakfast Club!”

“Spoilsport…”

“Don’t you get bored of watching that thing every day?” He asks flatly.

“Do you get bored of running around the same track every week?”

Oh, he is so not ready to play this game. “Okay, whatever. Point taken.” His eyes close, listening to her fumble through the films. Every so often he hears her murmur something like “Nah, not his best film” or “Bit too sappy for him”. She’s analysing her decisions around him. Crow doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes her sound like she knows him so well. It’s a little embarrassing. But then he considers how she’s clearly trying to pick something she thinks he’ll enjoy. And it’s based on the tastes she associates with him.

Crow’s stomach goes light. Did she often think about what he liked? Was he that easy to read? He inhales, his nostrils feel numb. He knows he’s overthinking this. All he really knew for sure was that she wanted to make sure he enjoyed her pick.

He’s content with that.

She pulls out Jackass with a smirk, shaking it at him. “Too close to home?”

“It’s in your hands.”

“Touché. I’ve already picked something anyway.” She rises, holding a film called Little Miss Sunshine. Crow doesn’t recognise it. The title makes his mouth twist though. You never knew what you were in for when it came to Squirrel.

“What’s it about?”

She places the film in the player, looking back at him with a glint. “I find it best when you go into films without knowing anything about them.”

Crow regrets asking. This girl could be impossible. “That’s not very smart advice.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like, what if I hated horror movies and someone stuck one on without me knowing? Or if some weirdo stuck on some porno flick or something?”

Squirrel stands up, swipes a lock of hair behind her shoulder and holds the cover up with a terse look on her face. “Does this look like some horror porno to you?”

“Knowing you, I can’t trust the cover.”

She chuckles, sitting down on the end of the bed with the remote. She’s a mix of irritated and playful. “Tell you what, if at any point some guy ends up cut in half or gets his dick out, I’ll turn it off. Happy?”

“Is this secretly some plan to get rid of me?”

She shrugs. “Don’t need a plan, the door’s right there if I need to kick you out. Now do you want to watch the movie or not?”

He’s not that bothered about the film. But he knows she wants him to watch it, and he knows he’ll enjoy hearing her talk about it. So they watch it. Crow actually enjoys it quite a bit. Some road trip movie about a family taking their youngest daughter to a beauty pageant. It’s acted great, and there are enough twists to keep Crow entertained (the ending scene is genuinely hilarious to him though).

And when he looks like he’s enjoying it, the faces Squirrel makes make his night.

She always likes having a discussion after every film they watch. It’s clear that she loves film with a passion. Every character, every scene, even down to the ways the camera moves, Squirrel has an opinion on it all. And it’s not like she’s pretentious about it in anyway. She’s convincing and always leaves Crow points where he can offer his own point. He doesn’t do it much (He’d rather hear it from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about). It’s just fun. She’s passionate about this and Crow likes to see that.

Although she does slip sometimes.

Such as tonight. She’s talking about how the protagonist is able to go against the conformities of beauty and success when Crow hears her voice tighten just a hint. He realises it’s odd to notice these things, but maybe he is odd when it comes to her. He’s seen her like this before, not in a while but it still leaves him cold.

“Isn’t that the point though?” Crow says. They’re sat at the head of her bed, side by side. “They realise she can do things her own way. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” Squirrel lays down, her ginger locks look like gleaming spiderwebs on the pillow. Her face is hardened on the ceiling. She pauses a moment. “It just sucks though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Like, the fact those pageants exist. I mean, I get that it gives some kids confidence or something. But there’s at least ten more kids who watch that shit and think they’re too fat or too, just, like, not normal to do anything in it?”

“I feel like there’s some projecting going on here.” Crow says slowly, leaning onto his elbow. The bed is remarkably soft and he almost falls off.”

Squirrel narrows her eyes at him. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I never said that.” Crow flicks a strand of hair over her nose, she creases and blows it away. “It’s bullshit, any idiot can see that. But why are you so worried about it? Have you got a pageant life I don’t know about?”

She punches his elbow, but she’s laughing. “You wish, perv. I just don’t think it’s right, that’s all.”

“I agree with you on that. But it’s not like you’re conforming to anything right?”

She blinks at him.

“I mean, you make movies and you’re really good at it.”

Was he putting too much effort with the ‘really’? He doesn’t try to think about it. “I haven’t heard anyone hate on your festival picture, and reminder.” He pokes her arm. “You came in the top five in that national contest!”

Her eyes flutter. “It was actually a regional contest.”

Crow waves a hand at the air, as if batting away wasps. “Who the hell cares? Fact is, you’re great at it!”

“Great.” It’s just one word. But Crow hears something different in how she says it. Small and curious, perhaps suspicious. It’s infrequent, but Crow panics whenever he hears it on her. He feels like the signature on a poorly made painting. He tries to picture what normal was for him and he thinks back to when thought of Squirrel or the idea of friends with nothing but disgust.

That normal was impossible to want, yet Crow missed the routine of not giving a shit.

He can only go with it. Keep his face like stone. “Obviously. Every idiot is great at something.”

Maybe remembering her own self, but her eyes still glimmering, Squirrel sits up with a cheeky look. “Oh, you mean how you were great at running?”

The relief of the straight line is temporary. “Yeah exact-” His eyebrows curve up. “I’m sorry. Were?”

Squirrel smiles at him with a look that’s almost sympathetic! She pats his back like she’s a mother comforting a child. “Don’t look like that Crow, just because you can’t run it doesn’t mean you’re a loser to me.”

He starts ranting about doctors’ orders and muscle strains as she laughs hard. He ‘argues’ his point for what might be ten minutes before Fireheart sticks his head in to ask about the racket. Crow has the sense to look apologetic while Squirrel explains they were done with the tutoring.

“Sounds like it too.” Fireheart says his arms crossing. Though his hair burns ginger like his daughter’s, there is a seasoned hardness on his face. Crow doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Sorry about that.” Crow says, easing away from the man’s daughter just a little. Fireheart smiles, unoffended.

“I’m kidding. It’s fine.” He nods to Crow. “Thanks for coming to help. It’s good to know Squirrel is getting some work done.”

Squirrel blushes furiously, “Dad!”

The man laughs genially, “Lighten up, kiddo!” Off of his daughter’s sulking look, he looks back at Crow. “Would you like me to give you a ride back home?”

The boy thinks that’s his signal to go, but before he can agree Squirrel cuts in. “We were actually just going to give Feather and Storm a call before he goes. It’s been a while.”

Crow is surprised by the change in plans, but he doesn’t object to it. It has been a while since they last spoke to their friend. Plus, he wasn’t in any hurry to go.

“Ah.” Fireheart makes a sound of agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well just give me a call if you want me to take you home, or I could call Ashfoot to come get you if you like?”

The friendliness of the man encourages Crow a little. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Fireheart nods again. But this time he gives Crow the spasm of an eye that almost looks like a wink. And was that a smirk? Crow feels his throat dry up again.

Squirrel sighs irritably once he’s gone, “That’s why I want a lock.”

Crow coughs to cover his unwinding nerves. “So we’re calling Feather and Storm?”

The girl beams, reaching to her bag to pull out her laptop. She slides her belly across the bed, lifting her legs and resting them on Crow’s knees. “Of course, we are! You’ll want to see her again, no doubt.” He thinks she’s smirking. Crow’s eyes dim.

“Not funny.”

“It’s true.”

It isn’t. But what can he say. As far as she knows, nothing was different about him. That hurt a little. It almost made it look like there was no point in thinking he could ever move on. But he had, he’d done it before she’d left.

But the idea that Squirrel would realise that scared the shit out of him.

Her legs swing away from him as she walks towards the door, “I’ll go ask Leaf if she wants to join. Don’t jump out the window or anything.”

Crow picks his head up, mimicking being annoyed rather than perturbed. “You know me.”

Squirrel blasts him a wiggle of her brows and then she’s gone. Taking her presumptions and theories with her. It’s strange to be alone in her room. It’s like she’s never gone. Crow sighs at the way his stomach is throbbing. He’s stuck in a paradox. He didn’t want to be found out. But the way she misjudged him, or his feelings, still stung no matter how stupid it really was.

She no doubt was going off to Leaf about him seeing Feather again, like it was some Romeo and Juliet type bullshit. That wasn’t it at all. If they looked at him when he saw his old crush again, there wouldn’t be anything like that. He missed Feather terribly. She was a great friend to have around. They all missed her like that.

But that added glow that came to her face so long ago. That was gone.

Or rather, it’s spotlight was centred on someone new.

...

So I wanted to add some more to this Human AU idea. It will come in small parts this time, compared to a massive one shot. That way I can alternate between this and ILYL. Now this is done, back to working on the main fic. Expect the next part of this after that chapter is released.

Thanks for reading.

#squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #human warriors au #human warrior cats

30 notes · View notes

soultek · 3 years

Text

Love Bites (And So Do I) - SkekSo/Reader/Skektek (Dark Crystal: AoR)

Author’s Note: Alright, like a whole year later let me post the fic that I made this whole damn blog for!!! And then didn’t finish until now-!

I mean I wasn’t gonna post it but then... I... This blog is literally called So(ul)Tek. These two are... why it’s called that.

Anyway, happy to provide this fandom with some content (sorry it’s so late!) that’s for sure! 😊😊

Disclaimer: Age of Resistance/The Dark Crystal and all associated characters nothing to do with me / title taken from song of the same name by Halestorm / obvious female reader.

Premise: The arrival of a creature such as you to Thra attracts the attention of more than one Skeksis. The Emperor is quick to claim you as his, and will mark you as such. He can fulfill your every desire, but he does not own your heart. When you need love, to feel like someone in this strange land actually cares for you, you go to The Scientist.

Words: 1641

Warnings: alluded to sex / biting / mentions of blood / not really a poly relationship and yet kinda *is* a poly relationship. / monster kink (I guess!)

________

It wasn’t a good night unless you were bleeding. Unless you could wake up with marks. Jagged wounds from sporadically placed teeth, running from your shoulder down, in an arrow towards a sharper puncture mark. Your skin was so easily marred – such was the nature of your body. And the perforations ran on both your back and your front. Covering them was more of a problem. And sometimes that was because they were not meant to be covered – but to signal to others whom you belonged to. Not that they did not already know that, but on sheer number of teeth alone it was obvious as to whose bite had left indents in your skin. He couldn’t risk them over your neck – if he caught you just wrong then he would no longer have you; and that presented problems. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t scratch those talons across your delicate skin, and on occasion dig them into your neck; feeling your heartbeat as your blood pulsed through your veins. Life. Yours not eternal like his. But a life that could be his to give or take.

Whilst he may well have had your fear, your respect, and every desire and carnal thought you’d ever had… he did not have your love. That, and your heart, belonged solely to another. And the Emperor only let you have that relationship because it kept you happy, and if your heart was happy… you’d come back to him at night for what you really needed. He just had to keep his court in check – though he would think the Skeksis to whom you gave your love would not dare step one toe out of line.

It was a strange union – in that nothing would ever come of it. Foolish to think that anything would. You were not of Thra. And he was not of Thra either – but you were still not of the same world. He’d given up on that notion some time ago; but at least he knew that you would have a union with no other either… And yet it was something. And he had to keep you. You were as tall as the Lords of the Crystal, smart and sarcastic – holding your own against any one of them if it was called for. And agile, quick on your feet – if he called for you no matter where you were, you could be at his side in minutes. A fraction of the time he knew it would take any of his court. Almost as quick as Skekmal, in fact.

As the morning light broke through the windows to the Castle you studied the lesions in the mirror. There was honour in being marked in such a way by the Emperor, and the sheer ecstasy it brought you under the cover of midnight… But running your fingertips over those indents the morning after, when your head was clear and there was no lust running through your veins, brought you a different kind of clarity. You would have to return to the one you loved most looking like this. And he would notice. Eventually. You may be able to hide them – but the Emperor would not allow you to cover them in his presence… Your eyes swept the room with a sigh; he had already left for court duties. Allowing you and your body the respite of sleep. You pulled your dress on and slipped quietly back to your own room, it wasn’t much, but it was still somewhere of your own. You couldn’t stay there too long, however, doing nothing more than changing your clothes before you made your way to where you really wanted to be…

It was cooler in this part of the castle, making your way down to the lab, sticking close to the shadows and walls. You were about as wary of the Gelfling guard as you were any other Skeksis; and you certainly didn’t want to run into any of them so far from the Emperor’s side. You knew the temperature would change a little as you reached the Scientist’s workspace; here you were closer to the centre of Thra and the molten rock that flowed sluggishly through the heart of the planet.

You padded softly through the castle, and paused at the door with a smile to watch, as you reached your destination. He was already tinkering away, muttering to himself as he did so. You rested your head against the door frame, smile growing. As you listened a while you realised that Skektek wasn’t just muttering to himself, but he was grumbling. You wondered which of the others had set him off today – not that he ever needed much of a reason – and couldn’t contain your laugh well enough, as a small chuckle slipped out. This immediately alerted Sidetic to your presence, and the little green fluffball - whom Skektek called ‘friend’ - chirped happily at you from his cage.

The Scientist turned from his work with a huh, and his amber eye focused on you. “Oh-!” He placed his tools down and fussed with his clothing for a moment as he stepped back from his work bench, “Top Gear.” You weren’t sure exactly where this cute nickname Skektek had fashioned for you had come from, but it made you immediately beam. “I wondered if I might be able to help you today?” There was only a moments hesitation, “Surely the Emperor would prefer you to accompany him?” It stung a little, that hurt in his voice, even when he knew it had to be this way. “Not that he requested.” “So you have not cleared this with him?” Skektek took a step back towards his workbench. “I haven’t, but what I do with my own time is not of concern to him.” You voice was firm in it's conviction. “No, but you and I…” He trailed off wistfully and fumbled with his tools for a moment. “Perhaps you should confirm that you will not be required in court today.” “He would keep me there out of spite for me wanting to be here!” You crossed the room, begging him not to ask you to go. You needed Skektek now, you needed to feel loved - as if someone cared for your more fragile emotions, needs and desires.

Pushing yourself between him and his work, your eyes were determined, “If the Emperor wants me, he can come find me himself-!” “I-!” You cut the Scientist off before he could protest, “I’m staying. Relegate me to a corner if you must, but I would rather be useful.” There was a silence between you that you tried not to see as uncomfortable as his eyes searched yours, your head tilted, frown absentminded; you always worried about his mechanical one. Something you weren’t sure you could forgive the rest of his species for. You were a fairly good engineer, that much was true, but you also knew you had nothing on him – and everything here on Thra put you a little out of your depth. “Please…” Begging wasn’t beneath you, and your voice wavered the perfect amount, “don’t make me go.” Skektek was almost reluctant to say it, and he looked away from you again; “You can stay.”

Although relieved, you didn’t move from your position between him and the bench, and all of a sudden your emotions overwhelmed you, finding your eyes flooding with tears that you tried to keep from spilling. Startled by your first sob, Skektek recoiled, before - bringing his clawed hands up to nestle on your cheeks - giving his best attempt at wiping those tears away. “Now, now, there’s no need for that.” You gulped them back, hands upon his, not quite lacing your fingers together, “S-Sorry. I just…” You didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know, and he lifted you up onto the counter top. Your clothing fell just a little more suggestively than you had meant, but you weren’t about to readjust anything at the significance of this pause.

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your now exposed thighs, and wondered if perhaps you could make something of that. That you could be loved on now… that you could wash away the way last night was currently making you feel, now you were in this moment with him. You pulled Skektek into your body gently, planting a series of sweet, chaste kisses over his snout. The Scientist's movements were instinctive, even when his hands trembled the way they always did, and he began to inch your dress down your body. You couldn’t help the spike in your heartbeat, that tender flutter of anticipation you felt. Every. Single. Time. He paused; hesitation apparent by the fading marks on your shoulder, across your chest and thighs. You would wait days between one and the other, just to hope that they would fade quicker. But they never did. “Please…” You pulled Skektek’s eyes back to yours, fingertips delicately ran his beak, “…I need you…” “But- I-” Try as you might you could not keep him from tracing his Emperor’s markings. And you swallowed hard. “Bite me.” “…What!?” The Scientist nearly recoiled at that. Why would you ask such a thing of him? Your love was delicate, you came to him to recover, to revel in being loved, for once. Not to be broken as you were upstairs. If you awoke with him - and it was always with him - he would curl himself around your body protectively, tail always wound around your legs. And when he slept with you in his arms tangled in his sheets, he emitted a sound not unlike a purr. And in this strange land, that was where you felt safest. That was where you felt like home. “Please.” You took his talons back in your hands, “Mark me. As yours.”

#Skektek #Skekso #AoR #the dark crystal: Age of Resistance #reader insert #Skektek x Reader #Skekso x Reader #Skekso/reader/skektek #No one who knows my main look at me or even mention this.#It's a thing. I'm doing it.#Pretend you didn't see!#I named the blog to post this fic and then it kinda got left on a shelf and I finally felt like I could dust it off and finish it #I'll be damned if I don't post it.#(Even though I already made a third side blog to stick my shit for these two and Myrrah on.)#TW Blood #blood tw #Monster kink #I mean I /guess/ it is

42 notes · View notes

starlightbuck · 4 years

Note

20 for the meet cute prompts 👀👀👀

20. You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

the way you look tonight || read on AO3

“Why are you walking so fast?”

Chim darts an unimpressed glance over his shoulder. “Because I’m a man on a mission. Now hurry up, Buckley.”

Buck picks up speed, trying to understand how it is that he’s struggling to keep up. His legs are longer than Chim’s, so shouldn’t he be the one setting the pace for the two of them? Not vice versa?

“If I walk quicker, will you finally tell me where we’re going?”

Chim had showed up at Buck’s apartment less than an hour ago and all but dragged Buck out the door without any explanation. Buck had gone willingly, mostly because he was bored and didn’t have any other plans for the day. That hadn’t stopped him from wondering what destination Chim had in mind for them.

He had asked where they were going once they got into the car. His question was met with silence so Buck decided to ask a second time. That time, Chim just raised the volume all the way up on the radio. Buck caught the hint and didn’t ask again.

“If you walk quicker, you’ll find out on your own.” Buck, having not yet caught up to Chim, sticks his tongue out at the back of his head. “Very mature, Buck.”

That stops Buck in his tracks. “How did you see that?”

“I didn’t. I just know how immature you are.”

They continue walking at an almost grueling pace until finally, Chim slows down. It’s such a relief to Buck that he doesn’t even acknowledge their surroundings until Chim is pulling a glass door open and gesturing for Buck to walk in. He does so immediately, drawn in by the cool air conditioning that directly contrasts the overbearing Los Angeles heat.

It’s once Buck steps foot inside the store that he realizes where he is and promptly does an about face.

“Uh uh.” Chim blocks Buck’s escape route, standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips. “You’re not going anywhere until you find yourself a new suit.”

It’s the same thing Maddie has been telling Buck for months now, apparently unhappy with the perfectly good suit he has hanging up in his closet. He doesn’t understand why she’s so adamant about him not wearing it. It cost him a fair amount of money and he knows he looks good in it. Why would he waste his time and money buying a new one?

He’s about to say as much to Chim, but is cut off by a wave of Chim’s hand.

“And don’t tell me you already have a suit. Maddie has deemed it unsuitable and what she says goes.”

“Doing my sister’s dirty work now, huh?”

Chim’s expression doesn’t waver, lips set in a straight line as he takes a couple of steps towards Buck. “Yes I am because she’s carrying our unborn child and I love her.”

Buck can’t say he was expecting that response and it works to disarm him long enough for Chim to grab his forearm and march the two of them to the front of the store.

“Didn’t take you for a romantic, Chim.”

Chim doesn’t rise to the bait like Buck’s hoping he will. Instead, his future brother-in-law sets his sights on one of the store’s employees and lets her know that they’re on a quest for a new suit for Buck. She is very efficient, taking Buck’s measurements and then leading him over to the first rack of suits to get a feel for what styles he prefers. Once that has been accomplished, she guides Buck to a fitting room and lets him know that she’ll be back with a few options for him to try.

“I can’t believe you betrayed me like this,” Buck whines through the curtain as he buttons up a burgundy long-sleeve top and slides on the black suit jacket.

“This isn’t so bad.”

Buck pushes the curtain aside so he can show Chim the fourth suit combination he’s changed into. “That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbles. While Buck’s been forced to change in and out of suits like some kind of Ken doll, Chim has been lounging in a comfortable armchair with a cold water bottle one of the employees brought out for him.

“I don’t think that’s the one either.”

“Why not?”

Chim shrugs, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Just doesn’t seem right. Let’s see the next one.”

Buck clenches his fist and stomps right back into the fitting room before he can say something that might be used against him in the future. This is exactly why Buck refused to go suit shopping when Maddie brought it up, but at least she would’ve been a better shopping companion. She would’ve actually offered constructive criticism whereas Chim is just turning down everything Buck has tried on. Buck can’t tell if Chim is doing it out of spite or if he genuinely hasn’t liked anything Buck has tried on so far.

The final suit left to try on is olive green and definitely not something Buck would’ve chosen for himself. It’s why he left the option for last, hoping that any of the other suits he tried on would’ve been a winner. He changes slowly, knowing that once this suit is rejected, he’ll have to wait all over again for the same employee as before to pick another round of things for him to try on.

“Alright, here’s the last one,” Buck announces, not bothering to look in the mirror before stepping back out to face Chim. He fiddles with the cuff link, waiting for Chim’s opinion. “What do you think?”

“I think you look very handsome.”

Buck startles at the sound of a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Chim. His suspicions are confirmed when he looks up and finds a young boy with sandy hair and glasses in the chair that Chim was sitting on only moments earlier. “You’re not Chim.”

“No, I’m Chris,” he answers with a toothy grin. The kid, Chris, is far cuter than he has any right to be. Buck finds himself smiling for the first time since stepping foot inside of the store. “That’s a nice color.”

“You think so?”

Chris nods emphatically, glasses tipping precariously on the tip of his nose when he does. He pushes them back into place and gives Buck a once-over. “It’s different, but I like it. Can you spin?”

“Spin?”

“Yeah, you know. Spin.” Chris twirls his finger around in the air to show Buck what he means. “Abuela says you have to look at an outfit from every angle to make sure it looks good.”

Well if that’s what Abuela says, who is Buck to argue?

“Make sure to do it slowly so I can see you,” Chris instructs and Buck does just that, taking his time as he walks in a small circle. He does it twice, moving his arms around during his second spin to see how the suit feels when movements are involved.

He’s just about to face Chris again to receive the child’s final verdict on the suit when Buck sees his reflection in the mirror.

I don’t hate it is the first thought that comes to mind. This might be the one is his second thought.

“Does it look good from every angle, Chris?”

Buck turns back around and almost chokes on his saliva.

Chris is still sitting in the armchair but he’s not alone anymore. There’s a man, an extremely attractive one, standing beside Chris with a collection of suits slung over his arm and amusement shining in his brown eyes.

They’re really nice eyes.

Attached to an even nicer face.

“It looks very good,” Chris answers solemnly, completely unaware of the tailspin Buck’s mind has just been launched into. What does it say about Buck that this kid is able to concentrate on the task at hand while Buck has been sidetracked by someone’s presence? “Daddy, what do you think?”

And oh. If Buck thought having this man stare at him was a distraction before, it’s nothing in comparison to how he feels when the man brings his free hand up to stroke the scruff that covers his chin. It’s a contemplative look that has Buck’s heart doing a backflip or cannonball or something else ridiculous and unbecoming of someone of his age.

So not only has Buck’s brain short-circuited, but his heart has as well.

Traitors.

“It’s a good look,” the brunette finally decides. The words shouldn’t hold anywhere near as much weight as they do. “Definitely a top contender in my opinion.”

Buck is not blushing, he’s not.

Maybe if he tells himself that enough times, it’ll eradicate the tinge of pink that he knows has stained his cheeks.

“Does that mean you’re gonna buy it?” Chris’s question breaks Buck out of his stupor. “Because I think you should.”

Chris’s dad raises his hand. “I second that statement.”

“And I third that statement,” Chim says, appearing out of nowhere wearing a smile that always spells trouble for Buck. Of course he’d choose now to show up again. “Who are your friends, Buck?”

“I’m Chris!” He holds his hand out for Chim to shake. “And this is my dad.”

“Eddie,” his father supplies, also taking a second to shake Chim’s hand.

“Buck was looking for you before.” Chris explains and Buck is glad that the kid is explaining the situation because Buck doesn’t think he would’ve been able to. “But don’t worry. I helped him and told him how handsome he looks.”

Buck doesn’t have to look at Chim to know that he’s withholding his laughter. “Oh you did, did you?”

Is it wrong of Buck to wish that a black hole will appear and swallow him whole? It’s probably dramatic, but he can live with that. At least then he would be able to retain some of his reputation. He already knows that Chim, and by extension Hen, will never let him live this down.

Buck decides it’s best to cut his losses and heads into the dressing room to get changed. The curtain muffles the voices outside, but he can still hear Chim’s laughter. Buck can’t tell if this is a blessing or a curse.

By the time he exits the dressing room again, the laughter outside has subsided and Eddie is nowhere to be found. Buck swallows back his disappointment, a fact made easier by the bright smile Chris directs at him. “Buck! Are you ready to help daddy find a suit too?”

“I-uh what?”

“Help Eddie find a suit,” Chim repeats, as if the problem Buck had with that statement was that he didn’t hear it. “I told Chris that he could keep you for the afternoon so you could pay him back for helping you.”

Buck’s jaw falls open as he stares at Chim in disbelief. Buck was only gone for a few minutes, how did Chim manage to set this whole thing up that quickly?

“I’ll take these off of your hands,” Chim says, taking the suits from Buck. “You can pay me back for the suit later.”

Chim’s final sentence is accompanied by a wink that lets Buck know he’s going to be expected to pay Chim back for more than just the suit. He’s gone before Buck can so much as put up a fight and then Buck is left alone with Chris.

“I’m ready, Chris!” The low voice comes from the dressing room right beside Buck’s and he does not think about the fact that Eddie was getting changed at the same time he was. “You ready for me?”

“I am! Buck?”

Buck glances around the room, curious as to where that employee who helped him earlier is. She’s the one who supplied Chim with a water bottle earlier and something tells Buck he’s about to be very thirsty. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #prompt fill #my writing #tylerhunklin

96 notes · View notes

zwiezraczek · 4 years

Note

Hey love! Could you do another chapter of rules were made to be broken? Maybe after the coffee date one finds out or something and they all have a big fight and four threatens to leave the ghosts or something? I’m not really sure and you can change this idea if you want, I don’t really write fanfic. Thanks love! 💚💚

Rules Were Made To Be Broken Part 2 [Request]

Part 1

Note: Sorry dear 💚 Nonnie for the wait for this! I hope you'll like this, I tried to make it the best I could! 💕

~~~

You came in early, maybe a bit too early. It was nine thirty, and you were sitting in the said coffee shop, waiting for him, for Billy. You had told your friends, who hardly believed it – because they dragged the boy down for days as you wallowed because he never called you back – and told you to not put your expectations too high, and they were true. Nonetheless, you came in early. Your hands were fidgeting, drawing circles on your coffeecup from time to time. It was beautiful outside, the sun shining, and partially for that reason you sat next to the glass window to catch some sun on your face, but also to make him notice you way quicker.

It wasn't ten, but you were already anxious. Would he be there? Would he come? You knew that if he didn't he would have your friends on his back, and by the way they dragged him down he wouldn't last long. You sighed before sipping some of your coffee before your eyes spotted a familiar silhouette. It was him. His golden locks showing up from under his blue hoodie, shining under the sunlight; and as he approached the coffee shop he noticed you, you could see it by the way his eyes glistened while he passed by you, right behind the window glass. He stopped for a while, took his hood off and smiled at you. You looked up, mesmerized by his eyes and this smile, this dazzling smile. He looked even more handsome than he did in the club, in the purple lightning, in a crowded space, with his torso against your back. Your face was instantly illuminated when you put your eyes on him, and he seemed to notice it as he quickly made his way in in order to sit at your table.

He sat right in front of you, charming as he was the last time you had seen him and he only said hi before a waiter came to take his order as you watched him, your hand under your chin. Hearing his voice again made you remember how hoarse his voice was, and how enchanting he sounded – even while ordering an espresso.

“So,” he stared after the waiter left you alone, in the middle of the coffee shop surrounded by other clients, “I want to apologize for leaving you like a coward last time, y/n... It was pretty much a shitty thing to do, I agree.”

“Yes, it was very, very shitty,” you emphasized before grabbing your cup and drinking from it, “but I'm open for some explications on why when this guy came in you had to leave.”

“Long story...”

“We have plenty of time,” you reminded him before adding as dreamily as he did yesterday on the phone but with a wink, “so much time.”

“You know that doing this is illegal, love,” he said as your smile widened because of how he looked at you, with heart eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Well... It's... You know ninjas, right,” he asked and you nodded with a smile. “So, basically I'm a ninja, doing parkour and catching bad guys.”

“So, you're a kind of ninja? That's pretty cute and hot,” you surprised yourself saying. You couldn't really tell what was happening to you when you were with him, probably your fear was gone with him because you felt that he wouldn't judge you.

“Enough talking about me and my ninjas skills, love, tell me something about yourself.”

“I like your smile,” you replied looking right into his eyes.

“But I think I like yours better,” he replied as the waiter put the coffee on the table right in front of him.

This date was way smoother than you thought it would be.

~~~

Billy made sure that no one would notice him sneaking out during the day to see you, and he adopted a well-known strategy of telling that he was gone parkouring through the city. A strategy that Blaine and Amelia knew too well to let him do this without any consequence. So, together, they waited for him to show up at their headquarters, Amelia sitting on the table and Blaine on a chair as Billy entered the room taking his hood off. And immediately he knew that he was screwed up. Definitely, especially by Amelia's look.

“Welcoming committee, never thought I would be this famous,” he joked trying to drive the conversation to another place.

“Have you seen her,” Amelia asked without further ado and he gulped. Shit. He didn't dare to lie, neither to reply. “God Billy, you're not a disney princess!”

“You can't marry a girl you just met,” Blaine said, quoting a bit too much Frozen for Billy to not pick it up.

“But it's true love, and she's not fucking Hans, she's like Kristoff or whatever,” he carelessly replied as Amelia stood up and put her hands on his shoulder while facing him.

“You know the rules, Billy, you shouldn't do this. You put her in jeopardy, and you put the whole team in jeopardy,” she reminded him.

“And you're dead,” Blaine quickly added, rising a finger.

“We're all dead,” Billy protested liberating himself from Amelia's grip, “but that doesn't mean that I can't feel fucking alive! And I feel alive with her!”

“But you'll be dead for real if One finds out,” Amelia said a bit too loud before she heard One's voice behind her.

“And Five's right,” One said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against one of the door frames.

“Oh my shit,” Billy cursed under his breath.

“So, let me summarize what the three of you are doing, just so we're on the same page. You, meaning Four, Five and Seven are sneaking out into clubs because why not apparently, being dead is an easy thing to keep, fine. I'm telling you that you can eventually, from time to time go and have fun because you're human not corpses, right? Right. And now, after two fucking days,” he emphasized angrily, “I hear that Four is going on a date, and thinks he's a disney princess. Should I bring some music, birds and maybe a broom so he can be our Snow White and clean this place,” he asked ironically.

“One, let me explain,” Amelia tried but he rose his index to tell her that it wouldn't do.

“It's Four's problem, and he will deal with it.”

“How, wanker,” Billy asked, still cautious.

“You tell your girl that you're not so cool and that she should stop dating you... Are you even dating, or a thing or whatever,” One asked with some disgust on his face.

“Unbelievably yes, we're a thing,” Billy replied and Blaine facepalmed himself. “I know, shocking for somebody who left love behind for fuck's sake.”

“Don't you fucking dare,” One gnashed his teeth after saying so.

“I fucking quit this weirdos group, I'm fucking done with all of this, with all of these sick fucks,” Billy declared before going towards the main entrance.

“You step outside right now, you never come back,” One warned him.

“Go fuck yourself,” Billy replied before going to his trailer.

~~~

That was probably the biggest decision he had taken out of spite, for a simple feeling and nothing else. He used to live like this, by his feelings, and it never leaded him anywhere. Well, it led him into stealing and later into being abandoned by his teammates. Rationality had brought him peace, stability and probably a family. And no, Amelia and Blaine weren't sick fucks as he had said, and he didn't want to lose them, neither you. He was lying on his bed, in his trailer, still thinking about packing his things and going outside to find you, but, honestly would you allow him to enter into your life after one meeting, just like this? This was insane, and he couldn't ask you that, not now.

“Sick fucks here,” he heard coming from the door, Amelia had a smile on her face and right behind her there was Blaine.

“Coming to see our disney princess,” Blaine added. “With a plan, be happy we're like your fairy godmother but from another movie dude.” Billy arched an eyebrow as they entered his trailer.

“One won't come here for the deal, because you know how proud he is,” and before he could add anything she said, “yes you do because you're as proud as him, we know. So, we got an agreement with One.”

“You know the Cullens,” Blaine asked and Billy was truly confused by all of this. “Yeah, you know the Cullens. So, you're like Edward and your girl is your Bella, and Amelia is like Alice,and I'm probably Jasper...”

“Straight to the point,” Amelia said, cutting him off, “One agrees on you dating her, but you have to find a way to maker her join the Ghosts, to find a talent which will be more than 'she's good looking' and One's ready to accept the whole thing.”

“And why Twilight,” Billy asked, proceeding all the information.

“Because it's easier to explain it this way,” Blaine replied as if it was obvious.

“It was even more disturbing than I thought it would be,” Amelia said giving Blaine an not really amused.

“So... Should I call her,” Billy asked, skeptical.

“Yes,” Amelia rushed him.

He smiled as he dialed your number, and when you replied his smile widened.

“Love, I have an incredible offer for you...”

#ben hardy #four x reader #four!ben #four/billy #six underground #6 underground ben hardy #💚 nonnie

24 notes · View notes

strikecommanding · 5 years

Text

Home

a fluffy 3k comm with mccree and a fem reader :3 no smut in this one, but it is still yandere (kidnapping, stockholm syndrome)

also on ao3

---

There was a very thin overlap of McCree’s and Ashe’s ambitions. At first, before the Deadlock Gang really came to fruition, the two of them typically saw eye to eye. Their reasons may have been different, but they worked towards the common goal of seizing wealth and power. McCree would say that the latter was more of Ashe’s thing; she’d already had a taste of wealth as her birthright, but she wasn’t interested in the type of power that came with it. It did nothing for her violent appetites, which was why she left it behind for the life of an outlaw.

In spite of the few similarities that tethered them together, there eventually came a time when the two Deadlock founders no longer meshed. Ashe wanted more infamy, more notoriety. McCree, too, enjoyed the freedom afforded to their gang by the public’s fear, but he didn’t want to make a name for himself in crime. That wasn’t to say he’d been struck by a sudden desire for justice, however. He craved the simpler things, like the ability to stroll around town without having to worry about being shot at by rival gang members or apprehended by the cops. As Deadlock grew, the more shallow its ‘freedom’ became. He’d become a prisoner of his own reputation, the very thing that was supposed to make him free.

So he decided one day that he wanted out. Predictably, Ashe didn’t take too kindly to his abrupt exit, not only because he was a true asset (whether she was willing to admit it or not) but because she couldn’t afford him out there with everything he knew. If there was anything that could get her to rally all the rival gangs in the area together, it was the opportunity to punish betrayal.

She may have had numbers, but she couldn’t find a gunslinger better than him for miles. McCree was quick on his feet and even quicker to the draw. No matter how many goons she sicced on him in a firefight, no matter how big their guns were, he managed to come out on top. But he certainly didn’t get out unscathed.

McCree was certain that Ashe had come at him with killing intent. Whether the fact that he was still alive was an error on her part or his own luck, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had lost enough blood to warrant a hospital visit. He ran from the scene until he had to slow to a walk, and he walked until his bullet-riddled legs finally gave out on him. Then, he crawled.

His eyelids were getting heavy and his tattered hat did nothing to protect him from the brutal sun beating overhead. He didn’t know where he was when his body finally stopped moving forward. The only thing he knew for sure was that the ground beneath him was blazing, yet his body was worryingly cold. As he blearily looked back at the trail of blood he’d left behind, he was sure his time was up.

---

McCree’s eyelids were heavy still, even when he tried to open them. The bright, white view he got glimpses of between blinking was consistent with his belief that he was dead, but inconsistent with where he believed he should have ended up. A man like him had too much blood on his hands to get into heaven.

Soft auditory signals roused him a bit more forcefully into consciousness: the shuffling of feet, low voices speaking to each other, and a steady beeping sound to his left. He could hear a woman’s voice to his right and instinctively turned that way.

When he finally opened his eyes, he thought he had to be in heaven. That was the only explanation for the angel standing before him. Even with your lips twisted into a distasteful frown you were a sight for sore eyes, and just about his entire body was sore.

“How are you feeling?” you asked him quietly, and your flat tone made the question sound more clinical than caring.

He regarded you with a blank stare before turning his attention to his limp body, which was now dressed in a hospital gown rather than his dirty, bloodied clothes. Bandages seemed to be wrapped around him from head to toe, but the one unconcealed part was the Deadlock tattoo on his left forearm. It was futile to try hiding it now since you were likely the nurse who’d cleaned and dressed his wounds, but he sank his arm beneath the thin bed sheets anyway. Looking back at you, he offered, “I’ve had better days.”

You weren’t looking at him, but at his arm underneath his blanket. Your lips were pursed in a tight line before you split them open to say, “I don’t know where you started from, but it seems like you made it far. Crawled on your stomach like an insect with its legs torn off. I found you just short of the parking lot here.”

McCree shifted uncomfortably beneath your piercing gaze before deciding against moving, as it exacerbated his injuries. He chose to lie stiffly in bed and asked, “Well what stopped you from leaving me there?”

You scoffed. “That’d be kind of counterproductive to what I do for a living.”

“But you saw my tattoo. And no doubt you’ve seen my devilishly handsome mug on ‘wanted’ posters all over town,” he pointed out, and he didn’t miss the way you abruptly turned your head away from his arm once he’d called you out. “Even better than leaving me for the buzzards, why didn’t you sicc the real scavengers on me and call the cops? Would’ve netted you a pretty profit.”

“I’ve got enough on my hands. You think I want to do their job too?”

Your sassy answer genuinely surprised McCree to the point that he fell silent. Then, his dry lips cracked open to give an even drier chuckle. He laughed until his chest hurt, which didn’t take long considering the state he was in. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, sugar.”

He thought he saw some small, indiscernible reaction on your face in response to the little pet name, but you said nothing of it. Instead you got right down to business and said, “Look. My staff and I don’t want trouble and I’m sure you don’t either. You’re alive because of me so how about you repay your debt by getting out of here as soon as you’ve recovered, and never returning to this hospital again?”

McCree considered your proposal in light of his situation. First of all, between his injuries and all the drugs that had been pumped into him as treatment, he probably couldn’t get out of bed even if he wanted to. Then he considered the possibility that Ashe and the others might come looking for him. He may have gotten away but he was as good as dead when they’d last seen him, so he hoped they believed it to be true. Ashe’s fatal flaw was her arrogance and he was sure she would be too cocky to make sure the job was actually finished. Still, he wouldn’t let himself get comfortable. He would leave as soon as he was able to and then skip town. Grinning through the pain, he lifted his battered right arm to offer you a handshake. “Sounds like a deal.”

You stared at him for a brief spell before taking his hand, and he wrapped his fingers around yours to really get a feel for you. He thought your hands would be softer, but it made sense that you would develop calluses and roughness in this line of work. Your hands were hardened from saving lives, and his by taking lives away. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when you stood and turned on your heel, apparently ready to leave. But first you paused and glanced at him over your shoulder. “Get some rest.”

McCree waited until you were really leaving to let a wolfish grin slide onto his face. He watched your rear as you went, even repositioning himself through the pain to get a better view, and he wondered how bad it could be to get a little comfortable with you.

---

McCree liked you. He had a feeling you were a real sweetheart underneath all that grit, but he’d be lying if he said that all your rough edges didn’t have a hand in his attraction towards you. He liked his women the same way he liked his liquor: with just a bit of bite, and your jaws were always snapping whenever you were around him.

It was a rocky start. You were a very professional woman who didn’t hesitate to let him know exactly how you felt about his attempts at flirting. When you weren’t busy chewing him out for his inappropriate behavior, you ignored him. You gave him food, clean bandages, everything he needed except the time of day.

But McCree was confident he could wear you down, get you to lower your walls. He had plenty of time, after all; his injuries were extensive enough to keep him in bed for a while, and you took his treatment upon yourself because you didn’t want to trouble the rest of your staff. You were so selfless and doting that he thought he wouldn’t mind having you by his side even once it was time for him to leave. Of course, that was just a pipe dream. And then there was an incident that made him think it wasn’t so impossible, nor was it a bad idea.

At some point well into his stay, McCree had finally managed to worm his way under your skin and make a place for himself in your heart. He liked to think so, at least, based on the fond smiles you started flashing him and the warmth that would sometimes creep onto your face when you looked at him. Genuinely, you seemed to like him.

As soon as he felt well enough to walk around, he was always out of bed looking for you. You couldn’t spend all your time with him, after all, but he wanted to monopolize you. It was on one of these trips that he stumbled upon you in a separate wing of the hospital, talking and laughing with a male colleague who stood far too close to you for comfort. The look of adoration on his face as he watched you speak was something McCree didn’t take too kindly to either. He knew better than to make a scene so soon after just gaining your favor, so he quietly returned to his room without incident.

You interacted with him as you normally did after that, but it wasn’t enough to make McCree forget what he’d seen. No matter how sweet you were when you were with him, he was left thinking about what you were up to when he wasn’t around. He came to the conclusion that the only way to dispel that paranoia was to have you with him, always.

---

Predictably, you weren’t appreciative of being smuggled out of the hospital by an outlaw who was on the bad side of the law and of his own gang. McCree somehow managed to make it across state lines with you in tow, though you certainly hadn’t made it easy. You were adamant that he let you go or take you back to the hospital, but your demands fell on deaf ears. He was determined to make a new life with you, whether you were willing or not.

The Deadlock gang primarily dealt in New Mexico, but they’d had their fair share of dealings in a few bordering states. There was a safehouse he knew of in Texas that was no longer in use, so he figured it was the best place for him to set up shop. That, and he knew no one would be looking for you there.

There would be an adjustment period. He was ready for you to fight him with all your might, but he hoped you would eventually come to see things his way. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t have to lift a finger around the house. McCree intended to provide for you, take care of you; all he wanted in return was your presence next to him.

As it turned out, you weren’t the type of person who enjoyed sitting idly by and being pampered. When McCree returned from his mercenary work, you’d taken to patching up his injuries if ever things got a bit too dicey. It started when he asked you once, and you’d done it after some protests on your part, but then you continued doing it everyday as if it were a matter of course. McCree would tease you about it, ask if you’d finally taken a liking to him again, and you would adamantly reply that it wasn’t in your nature to let an injured man go untreated.

The day was just like any other. McCree went out to collect some bounties, came back a little bit worse for wear. Coming home to find you already waiting for him put a wide grin on his roughed up, slightly bruised face. It had taken some time, but he was glad you were finally past the phase of having to be locked up in your room whenever he went out.

“Honey, I’m home,” he drawled, smiling even more when he saw the corner of your frown tug just the tiniest bit upward. “What have you been up to while I was gone?”

“What is there to do when I’m trapped inside the house all day?” you retorted, vaguely gesturing to the plainly furnished home for emphasis. “When are you going to start letting me go out?”

“When you’ve earned it,” he said easily as he lifted a hand to ruffle the top of your head. You stepped aside resentfully, and without your weight there to support him he ended up stumbling slightly. He tried to play it off coolly but nothing escaped your eagle eyes.

You returned to his side and slung his arm over your shoulders as you guided him to sit at the kitchen table. There, you began fretting over him without even needing to be asked. You removed his hat and set it down before gently peeling his leather jacket off of him, mindful of any wounds he might have been trying to hide from you. “What is it this time? Were you shot at or did they kick your ass freehand?”

“Why’re you so sure I got beat? I came back with money, didn’t I?” McCree complained, a fond smile on his lips as he watched you zip around him like a worker bee. The feeling of your fingers brushing over tender wounds wiped that look off his face immediately, instead making way for a grimace. “All right, they kicked my ass, but I still won. I walked away a richer man.”

“More like stumbled, I’m sure,” you replied, stripping him of his shirt so you could examine the full extent of his injuries. The angry red marks and raised skin were all consistent with the scenario that he’d been cornered and beaten by a number of people. You left him briefly to get some ice as well as the first aid kit you’d demanded he start keeping around the house a few months back. “You sure you didn’t bite off more than you could chew with this one?”

“You won’t be asking me that once I have you chewing on some dinner,” he declared, and he angled himself differently so you could ice all the inflamed areas on his torso. Then, hoping to abandon all the witty sarcasm and shift the conversation towards a softer direction, he said, “I’m sorry you gotta fix me up every day, honey. But I’m your breadwinner, and this kinda work’s all I can do.”

You continued silently icing his bruises before they could develop, and he couldn’t see your reaction since you were standing behind him. Your voice came out neutral when you said, “It’s not like I’m annoyed having to take care of you like this… It’s more like… I’m scared of the day you won’t come back. If you end up getting shot at like when I first saw you, and I’m not there to find you…”

McCree sat there quietly, rolling his cigar between his teeth as he thought carefully about what you said. That could have gone one of two ways. If this conversation had taken place closer to the beginning, back when you were still resentful and defiant about this new life together with him, your only reason for worrying about him would have been your own self-interest. In this new life, he was the only one looking out for you. Back when you were still locked in your room all the time, he was the only one who even knew you were here. His absence would have spelled out all kinds of trouble for you.

But you didn’t seem to be thinking of it that way. Rather, you were speaking out of concern for him and not yourself. If the low, pensive tone of your voice weren’t a dead giveaway, then he got it from the way your fingertips were delicately trembling as they brushed over his shoulder.

Smiling gently to himself, he reached up to grab your hand and steady you. He felt you jump at the sudden contact but he quickly eased you into stillness. Looking over his shoulder with a charming twinkle in his eye, he assured you, “It’s real sweet of you to worry about me, but I promise I ain’t reckless like that. Not anymore, now that I’m living for the both of us.”

He thought he saw your cheeks redden at his remark before you abruptly pushed him away with your hand over his eyes. “Shut up. You’re still too reckless. Try to come home in one piece next time.”

McCree chuckled, holding onto your wrist and kissing the back of your hand when you didn’t immediately pull away. He said nothing of it, but he couldn’t help but notice that you’d called this measly little safehouse a home.

#mine #commission #yandere!jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #fluff #violence mention #kidnapping #stockholm syndrome #got a genji one coming up after this one!#these two comms were in limbo for a bit

118 notes · View notes

angstmongertina · 5 years

Text

A Helping Hand (Cal Lowell/MC)

So in chapter 10, I think that was, if you don’t take the diamond option to summon the lake guardian or whatever, MC actually gets injured (a scratch on the forearm). And me being who I am, I thought it’d be fun to bring that up a little bit more, because beyond that one scene, it was generally ignored.

We’ll just ignore the fact that everyone changed clothes between chapters 10 and 11, yeah?

Aaaaaaa I’m so behind once again. I wanted to write something for Elric too, but I guess I can do that this week as well. ESPECIALLY since I thought of a way to make it a little angsty. :D

AO3 Link

——————————————————————————————————

When Nik first suggested they travel to the sanctuary of Lord Elric, somehow, Silvia was expecting something more… elegant than traipsing through more wilderness. After all, he had been in attendance at Persephone, which should have implied some level of prestige, especially as an apparent member of fae peerage. But instead, there they were, abandoning the car and struggling through yet another murky, swampy forest, for who knew where.

Grimacing, she squinted at the dark shadow of Nik’s back, solid and certain before her, before stumbling over a loose rock. For a moment, she flailed, until Cal grabbed her arm, eyes concerned, and she hissed, her knees nearly buckling under her.

“Silvia!”

She pulled away, waving her other hand at him through watering eyes as she pressed her arm against her stomach. “I—I’m fine. I…”

Before she could force something else through gritted teeth, he reached for her, a gentle hand gripping her shoulder. “You’re not. What…?”

Tentative fingers brushed her arm and she swallowed a sharp gasp, the world suddenly swimming around her. “Nik, Katherine, hold on a moment!”

“What’s wrong? Rook? Talk to me.”

Aaaand there was Nik, all gruff concern and short temper. She sighed, straightening as best she could and shrugging out of Cal’s grasp, or at least attempting to, to no avail. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Silvia? It’s your arm, isn’t it?”

Of course Vera had to get involved too. Even Katherine was watching her with worry instead of impatience, as if she were some sort of fragile damsel who would keel over at the slightest injury.

“And you didn’t say anything?” Nik appeared in front of her, so suddenly that she listed backwards, staying upright only through the support of the hand still clasping her shoulder. And judging from the way his mouth pressed together in that now-familiar scowl, it had not gone entirely unnoticed. “We could have at least stopped and taken care of it!”

She must have scowled; Cal squeezed her shoulder, his face apologetic but no less concerned. “He’s right, you know. You risk infection—”

“With what time? I’d rather have an infection and be alive than caught by that thing and dead!”

“And you’ll be a hell of a lot quicker if we can get that thing treated.”

“You’re the one who said that we only had maybe an hour.” She set her shoulders, glaring at Cal until he released her, and moved to catch up with Katherine, gritting her teeth against the pounding heat seeming to radiate from her forearm. The shout of her name carried over her shoulder but she ignored it other than tossing her braid over her shoulder in an admittedly childish show of defiance.

Katherine’s lips twitched. “Perhaps you’re right…”

“See?” She grinned, triumphant, but before she could so much as turn, Katherine visibly smirked, nodding at someone behind her.

The next second, she found herself lifted bodily into the air and cradled against a warm, familiar, chest as Cal grinned down at her. “That’s fine. This works too.”

“Cal!” She smacked his chest, a gesture which produced as little result as hitting a boulder, and pushed against him, with equal success, meaning none. “Let me down!”

His arms only tightened as he continued moving, clearly taking care to avoid jostling her too much. It was a thoughtfulness that she appreciated… or at least that she would have appreciated were the situation entirely necessary in the first place.

Frowning, she turned her attention to Nik, only to find him wearing a smirk that were eerily similar to Katherine’s. Even Vera looked amused, a feat that, in any other circumstance, she might have appreciated.

Finally, she sighed, turning her gaze back to Cal, who was clearly fighting a chuckle of his own, though his gaze remained firmly forward. “Put me down, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Will you let us at least take care of that, then?”

Gritting her teeth, she nodded.

When he set her back on her feet, her legs nearly buckled beneath her and she mumbled under her breath as she forced herself upright, ignoring the concern warring with faint amusement on his face. Thankfully, he said nothing, instead only offering her a hand and guiding them to a fallen tree.

“Wha—?” But before she could finish, Cal was already kneeling at her side and carefully ripping strips from his shirt. “Your shirt, really? This isn’t some TV drama.”

He snorted, though he didn’t pause or look up from his careful examination of her arm. “Hush you, unless… Ryder, you wouldn’t happen to have a roll of gauze in one of those pockets of yours, would you?”

The man in question grimaced. “I figured we’d be traveling light to Chateau des Epoques.”

“Yeah, we’ll make do until we reach Lamrian. It’s all I can do to just clean this up anyway. Give me a sec…” In spite of herself, she flinched as he brushed a finger over the scratch, though somehow, she suspected it was less from the pain and more from the heat of his hand. Regardless, he tightened his other hand around her wrist, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, but this is going to sting a little.” He paused, looking up to give her a crooked smile. “Then again, I can’t say this is the worst I’ve seen either.”

She forced a grin in response, pointedly keeping her eyes fixed on his face, a task made considerably easier by his endearing look of concentration as he worked. It was a clear distraction tactic, but one that she appreciated nonetheless. “Oh?”

Even focused as he was, his expression softened, smile turning gentle, as it always did when his brother was involved. “Come on. You can’t possibly be surprised, considering what you’ve seen of Donny.”

In spite of, or perhaps causing, his soothing tone, his ministrations stung and she bit back a hiss with some difficulty. “Perhaps but… I can’t imagine getting attacked by zombies is common?”

He snorted. “You’d think not but I swear, if there was one in the area, he’d somehow find his way into it. Honestly, it’s a wonder we didn’t run into him earlier.” Shaking his head, he raised his gaze, meeting hers with a smile that made her breath catch in her throat. “He’s almost as bad as you.”

She was halfway to returning his smile before her mind caught up. “Hey!” Laughing, she aimed a punch at his shoulder but he danced out of her reach with a teasing grin.

“Too slow.”

Without thinking, she leapt up to chase after him but before she could so much as take a step, Nik jumped between them, a hand outstretched.

“That’s enough, you two. It’s great that you’re feeling better but…” The rest of his sentence—whether or not they had forgotten about the bloodwraith that was still very much chasing after them—was left unsaid, but it was clear enough just based on his tone of voice and his pointedly raised eyebrow.

Trading a guilty look with Cal, she grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. We should… keep going.”

As Nik resumed their trek towards the mysterious Lamrian, she set off in pursuit, though, with warm fingers entwined with hers, a constant reminder that, bloodwraith or not, he would never let harm come to her. And in despite the pain, the exhaustion and the fear racing in the back of her mind, that was enough to keep her moving with a smile.

#Cal Lowell x MC #Cal Lowell/MC #Cal Lowell #Nightbound #PlayChoices #Tina writes stuff.#Tina plays Choices.#the soft werewolf bf #otp: in your hands #Silvia Delmero

25 notes · View notes

kellykadesperate · 6 years

Text

as it all comes tumbling out

self indulgent, seb heavy, future fic

He finds out when he’s not supposed to, he finds out on his sixteenth birthday and Robert feels his whole world fall apart as he sees the look on Seb’s face.

“You liar.” He spits, nearly as tall as Robert now, freckles and blond hair and this scowl on his face that is Aaron’s. He looks cut up, broken, like he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening but he’s trying to.

And Robert’s chin doesn’t stop wobbling because this wasn’t meant to happen. There was a time and a place for everything and —

Seb’s running a hand over his hair, Robert sees that he’s got tears in his eyes and his face is all red and puffy from trying to hold back his tears.

“Seb. Look at me, it’s not what you —“

“So my mum was some slag you slept with behind dad’s back?”

It hurts everywhere suddenly, Robert throws his head up and just as he does the door goes and Aaron’s standing there. He’s got the door swung open, foot pressed against it as he juggles a mound of Seb’s presents.

They almost fall all together as he hears what Seb’s just said.

“You — don’t you talk about your mum like that.” Robert says, because he can’t say anything else yet, because it feels like he can’t breathe and the tape is staring at him.

It’s on pause, and Seb’s done too much snooping and —

“Seb?” Aaron’s whispering, his voice gentle, filled with this undeniable sense of panic as he figures out what exactly Seb’s discovered. He chews on his gum a little as he waits, and then he hears it.

“Don’t act like you care Aaron. Not when ya hated me once.”

Aaron squints, drops the bags down on the floor and races towards Seb but Robert’s there. He’s got his head down and he’s this mess of a man who can’t bare what is happening.

Not now, not on his birthday. It’s all Robert can think about.

“Listen to me. Calm down.” Aaron says, his voice changes instantly. Seb doesn’t call him Aaron. He just doesn’t. He’s sterner now, but there’s this clot forming in his throat and he has tears in his eyes as Seb backs away from him.

“Why?” Seb’s chin wobbles slightly and he turns towards the television. “That’s mum right? And she — she’s talkin’ about you and dad. She’s sayin’ that you hate me already.” A tears drops down his face and Aaron’s mouth opens a little as Robert makes this awful sound like he’s breaking a little.

Aaron blows out breath and shudders, decides almost instantly that he needs to do something. He needs to stay strong. “Seb, where did ya find this?”

“Auntie Vic gave it to me, she said there was some silly videos of my mum on here.” Seb holds the old tape in his palm, passes it to and throw and then gulps hard as Aaron looks away.

Rebecca’s showing around the nursery, it’s happy, it’s light and soft and then she’s settling the camera down and breaking apart to Chrissie over ruining a marriage and Aaron hating her and the baby and —

“You were never meant — meant to see that.” Robert finally says, he’s gripping onto the sofa, fingers denting the fabric as he struggles to breathe. “It was all different then, Seb, it was all —“

“You said that you and dad got married after I was born.”

“We did.” Aaron whispers, watches the way Seb frowns at him. “But before we ...”

“It’s a long story Seb. One that you’ll know about when you’re a little older okay?”

“Bullshit.”

“Seb!” Aaron’s voice breaks a little, Seb’s not like this, Seb’s the sort of kid that charms his way out of situations with a smile, not by being harsh and mean and spiteful.

“So you cheated on him?” Seb says, the idea of a birthday party is long forgotten as Robert raises his head and feels the years shrink.

“We — we were in a bad place.” He says, and Seb’s heard of Aaron being in prison, they don’t talk about it, just like they don’t talk about why Liv doesn’t drink even on special occasions.

It’s just another thing apparently.

“So you slept with —“

“I made a mistake.” Robert admits, and Seb’s eyes flicker.

“Yeah. Me.”

“No. No, that sounds awful and that’s not the case at all.” Robert is desperate, tries to reach out and hold at his son’s hand but there’s no point. Seb pulls away and Aaron feels his heart twist as the boy looks at him.

“You’re always goin’ to hate me.” Seb’s eyes widen like he’s just realised. “He cheated on you, and I —“

“Listen, we love you.”

“Mum said ya hated me.”

“I wasn’t — that wasn’t me back then.” Aaron wipes a hand across his face and the tears keep falling. “I was hurt, broken. I hated myself more than anyone else. Seb. You’ve got to listen.”

“I don’t even blame ya.” Seb whispers, head falling towards the floor as his cheeks turn pink. “I blame him.” He looks at Robert suddenly and then shakes his head. “For all the lies.”

“To — to protect ya from the truth.” That was always the case, he sat down with Aaron and Liv and the rest of the family and discussed when and what they should tell him when he’s old enough. It was all because he didn’t want *this.

“From you not being able to keep it in your trousers more like.”

He’s Aaron, all Aaron sometimes and Robert can’t help but feel ashamed of himself all over again.

“You need to stop talkin’ to him like that Seb.” Aaron says, fighting his corner or whatever just like always and usually Seb shrinks back into himself but now? He almost looks like he’s lost all respect for the man who has raised him for all these years.

He scoffs instead of says sorry, he shakes his head and shudders.

“I’ve got to live with the fact that my mum slept with a married man, that — that everyone around here knows and I —“ Seb gulps hard as he looks right at Aaron. “Liv knew? She knew and —“

“We were going to tell ya.” Robert promises, voice tight as he speaks. “Just didn’t want to —“

“Taint my memories? I don’t even remember her so there was no point in that was there?”

Robert winces and Aaron fights with himself not to cry anymore.

“Seb please.” Robert says, like he’s trying to think of anything, like he’s trying with all he has to fight through the way Seb looks so utterly broken.

But he watches his son leave instead, hears the door slam just as Aaron swoops him up in his arms and holds him close.

“He hates me. He hates me just like I hated my dad when he —“

*No.” Aaron presses a kiss to Robert’s head, firm, soft, all at the same time. He holds him even tighter and then shudders at the way Robert’s mind works. “He’s angry. He — knowing how she died was bad enough, now he knows this and he’s — it’s tipped him over the edge, that’s all.”

Because they tried to erase Lachlan White from their lives until Belle told him all a little over a year ago now, sad and lonely and on an anniversary of theirs.

It had taken them days to console the boy and now there’s this to deal with.

“Did ya see the way he looked at us? I felt it.” Robert whispers, he has his face buried into Aaron’s chest and he feels the younger man run a few fingers through his hair.

“He’ll calm down.”

“Or leave.”

“Don’t be daft.” Aaron says, although his heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest.

“Or stay ‘cause of Annie and Jacob, not ‘cause he feels wanted.” It hurts, aches actually as Robert thinks about it all and can’t help but draw as many comparisons to his own childhood as possible.

Aaron holds his breath as he thinks about it and then suddenly gulps.

“I’ll find him.” He says, leans away and tries to find his coat as Robert tells him it might not be the best idea. “Rob he thinks I hate him deep down or somethin’. I can’t have that. I can’t have him thinkin’ you’re nothing but a liar as well okay?”

Robert breathes out an ‘okay’ and Aaron holds his hand against his chest, kisses down at Robert’s palm and then he pulls away.

••

He finds him in no time at all. Seb’s upset and hurt but still predictable.

He’s leaning over the bridge a little the way Aaron used to do when he was his age, legs swinging a little as he grips on tightly and stares down at the small river.

“Remember how loud you used to shout when ya saw the fishes down there?” Aaron says, a small smile on his face that fades as Seb looks at him.

He’s got a packet of cigarettes in his hand, hadn’t had one yet and Aaron knows he won’t be having one any time soon too.

“You’ll hate them.” He leans down a little, hands in his pockets and then he pulls away. “Your dad once tried to smoke one in front of me and it didn’t go down too well.”

Seb pulls one towards his mouth like he’s trying to challenge Aaron. “Was this before or after he slept with someone else?”

Aaron nearly flinches. “Was that supposed to upset me?”

“I’m sorry.” Seb says, all too quickly, he unravels and makes Aaron’s heart almost fall out of his chest because he’s so much like Robert that it hurts. “That was horrible. I didn’t mean to —“

“You didn’t.” Aaron admits, shrugs slightly as he brings himself closer towards Seb and leans slightly against the wooden bridge. “It was so long ago Seb.” It feels like another lifetime really. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“But it did?” Seb says, eyes blinking quicker now. “When you found out that he —“

“I was in prison.” Aaron whispers, and that still hurts, that will always be one of the worst experiences of his whole life. It makes his stomach turn slightly. “I pushed him away. It’s not an excuse, trust me, but it’s what happened. And then he — he did what he did and I tried to forgive him but —“

“She kept me.”

Aaron nods. “I couldn’t handle it and everything got ... it got bad Seb. So I ended it. Watched him with ya for months and then ... we got back together and I never looked back.” He promises, determined to make Seb understand.

He’s wearing this stripped tea, hoodie over his shoulders and a pair of long jeans.

It takes him back to when he was younger, Aaron relentlessly throwing hoodies over him and making Robert pissed off because he didn’t buy fancy coats for his son to go around looking like that.

Whatever ‘that’ meant anywhere, it’s paid off, Seb’s standing here now and he’s everything Aaron wished he would be and more.

He’s his son, in every single sense of the word.

“Because I loved you. I fell — I couldn’t help but love ya.” Aaron explains. “Me and your dad.”

“Well he had to.” Seb shrugs. “Mum was gone and —“

“He struggled you know? He struggled so much with raising you the right way, we both did. It’s why he’s a mess now, because he didn’t want things to go this way. He wanted everything to be said at the right time.”

“Is there one?” Seb asks, the weather is colder than what Aaron had expected and he hugs his coat around him as Seb’s jaw tenses a little the way Robert’s does.

“No.” Aaron says honestly. “There isn’t. But, not now. Not on your birthday for God’s sake.” He wants to kick himself, he wants to scream about how unfair it all is but he can’t. He has to stay strong. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t deserve being lied to my whole life either.” Seb almost pouts and then he tenses his jaw again.

“I know.” Aaron says, he gets it, he understands. “But we honestly were just trying to protect ya. People can be mean you know?”

“I know. I have two dads, trust me I know.” Seb says almost bitterly and then he stops himself and sighs. “I just — I can’t stop thinking about the fact that you should hate me.”

“Well I don’t.” Aaron pushes out, wipes at his face again as he holds Seb’s arm. “I’ve never treated ya differently to Annie or Jake have I?” Seb shakes his head slowly. “You’re my own, always have been.”

Seb shudders. “But don’t you see —“

“I see this brillant boy, who’s passing science now, who’s never not reading a book, who loves his brother and sister so much. Who — who keeps making me so proud.”

“Dad.” Seb says, gulps hard and his cheeks are reddening.

Aaron nods as tears fall down his face, he brings a hand up and holds it against Seb’s face. “What happened before you were in my arms for the first time, it doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t take away how much I love ya, or how amazing your dad is either.”

Seb looks away slightly and Aaron holds his face.

“Oi. I meant it. He’s spent way too may years hating himself over hurting me and Liv like that okay?” Aaron nods slightly as Seb closes his eyes and breathes out steadily.

“I’ve just made him feel ten time worse then?” Seb realises. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just —“

“I know.”

“Thank you.” Seb says and Aaron’s eyes widen in confusion. “You didn’t have to love me. Or take dad back. Stay. But you did.” He looks like he’s going to start crying, cheeks puffing up and eyes reddening now.

He breaks Aaron’s heart. Just the way his own mum used to say he broke hers.

He gets it.

He envelopes Seb into this crushing hug and decides he isn’t going to be letting go for a while. “I didn’t have a choice mate. You and your dad, it was all I ever wanted.” He whispers, knows he won’t stop telling Seb until he knows for sure.

••

It’s nearly dark by the time they’re back. Robert’s sitting on the sofa biting his finger nails because although Aaron’s text that they’re on their way back, he can’t help but feel nervous about it.

“Daddy, how comes Seb isn’t opening his birthday presents.” Annie’s voice rings through the house as Robert looks around and sees her kicking her feet against the table and cheerfully not eating any of the food Robert’s made for her.

He sighs as he stands and walks over to her and Jacob who’s too busy stuffing his face to care. Robert pulls a hand through Jacob’s curls before looking at Annie.

“He’s out with daddy now.” Robert explains.

“Is he having birthday fun?” Annie’s too sweet for Robert to ignore and he smiles faintly at her as Jacob looks up at him innocently.

“Of course he is.” Robert whispers before shuddering slowly. “Hey, you know me and daddy love you so much.” He says, kneels a little as Jacob drops his fork and gives him a cuddle like he knows he needs one.

And he does, because he’s terrified of his own children hating him. It’s one of his biggest fears.

His children resenting him for all his lies.

The door goes as he thinks about it and Annie jumps off her seat to cling her arms around Aaron’s frame and then scream happy birthday to her brother. Jacob does the exact same thing once Robert lets him go.

“Oi monkeys, I don’t care how many vegetables daddy’s made ya, go and eat them all up okay?” Aaron says, pats Annie’s head as she pouts and follows Jacob back to the table with a huff and Jacob sticks his tongue out just because.

Robert smiles finally before looking at Seb slowly and gulping hard. “Seb ...”

“I think your dad wants to show you something in the garden.” Aaron says kindly. “Okay?” He whispers to Seb and he nods slowly.

The air is thick and cold and it matches the atmosphere for a second or two before Seb speaks.

“Aaron — dad, dad said you and him talked loads. Sorted things out. Broke up and got back together again and he hasn’t left since.” Seb kicks the grass and then looks at Robert who nods.

“I was a nightmare.” Robert almost smirks. “I kept saying I couldn’t get back with him, I was scared of — of him not wanting to be a dad to ya.”

“And?”

“Duck to water he was.” Robert half smiles. “Came home once when you were really little and he’d built a pillow fort for ya to stop ya from crying.” He blinks quickly. “It was so early on when I think about it now but — Seb he’s always loved ya. Just like I have.” Seb looks away, shy underneath the declaration of love. “And I know, I know the way you — me not wanting ya to begin with, me terrified of it all going wrong and what your mum thought, it’s horrible to hear but it past.”

Seb clings to his hoodie a little. “Yeah?”

Robert nods. “She loved ya. After the accident she wasn’t the same but she loved you and we were all — we all just wanted the best for you. Because we all loved you, all cared.” He holds a breath. “So please don’t ever feel unwanted okay, I’d hate if you ever felt —“

“Hey I don’t.” Seb says, all kind eyes suddenly and a hand on Robert’s arm. “I don’t dad.”

Robert looks up and smiles properly for the first time since. “Well good.” He says, almost light heatedly and it cuts through a layer of tension. “Because we always will —“

“Yeah I know. And I know you’re sorry.” Seb says, “Just give me time okay?”

Robert nods eagerly. “Of course yeah. That, that we have plenty of.” He promises before looking toward the glass labelled doors and seeing Aaron standing there nervously with Jacob by his leg and Annie on his hip. “How about we go inside eh?”

Seb nods and walks ahead. “Do my cake then?”

Robert gasps. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah well, I’ve had too many of those today.” And that’s his son, a cheeky smarmy little —

“Get inside!” Robert laughs out, watches the kids attack Seb as he slides the door open. He smiles to himself as he watches and then feels Aaron’s hands around his waist.

“It looked like that went well.” Aaron mumbles into his ear and Robert rolls his head back, wants to feel Aaron even more.

“Sort of yeah. He gets that we love him, sorry and all that. I just have to give him some time to get his head ‘round it.” Robert whispers before he turns and presses a kiss towards Aaron’s mouth before pulling away. “If you hadn’t come back when you did ... thank you.” He kisses him again and Aaron strokes over his arms.

“We’ll get him through this okay?” Aaron promises, like he always promises and then he kisses Robert’s forehead before hearing the sound of Jacob shouting.

“Cake for Seb!” He’s shouting, and him and Annie are turning it into this chant that’s making Robert’s ears nearly bleed.

“Cake for Seb it is then.” Robert says, Seb catches his eye across the room and for a second Robert sees that adorable chubby little baby before he’s replaced with this teenager in front of his eyes.

Robert holds a breath, Seb smiles at him.

#seb white #robron fics #i have been wanting to write this for ages

139 notes · View notes

thesilverstaganddoe · 5 years

Text

The Beginning: Psychology and the Law (Killing Eve Fic) Chapter 3

AO3 Link Chapter [1] [2]

Chapter 3: Habits

The drinks became a habit, at least once a week, sometimes several times a week. They were always fun, a different bar each week. Oksana always had something to suggest. She’d asked Eve a few times, but Eve had just made her suggestions based on what results she pulled up on her phone, so Oksana had returned to picking. She’d yet to disappoint.

It wasn’t that Eve looked forward to the nights out, per se, but they were always a welcome relief from her busy weeks at school. In spite of her remarkable ability to make Eve flustered at any given moment, Oksana was also charming and a delight to be around. She could easily make Eve laugh even when she was the most stressed and on more than one occasion Eve had come out at her insistence, despite a foul or tired mood, and ended up truly jovial by the end of the evening.

Eve was charmed. But Oksana was a charmer, it was what she did, and Eve had to remind herself of that. It wasn’t anything special.

It was getting dark and Eve was heading out toward the staff parking lot when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped and nearly took a swing at the owner before realizing it was Oksana.

“You scared me nearly half to death, Oksana!”

“You should pay better attention, it’s not like I’m particularly quiet. And why are you so jumpy?”

“Because I have people like you sneaking up behind me.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Right.” Eve said sarcastically.

“Unless you asked me to.”

“Is that supposed to be a dirty joke?”

Oksana grinned. “Yes.”

“Couldn’t resist, could you?”

“You gave me such a good opening.”

“You have a twisted, dirty mind.”

“If you’re already saying with what little you’ve seen of me, then you’re in for a big shock if we keep hanging around each other.” Eve rolled her eyes and Oksana looped her arm through Eve’s to walk beside her. “So, are you headed home? Or do you want to go out? I was going to text you, but then I saw you.”

“I’d like that. I should get something to eat first, though.”

“Let’s do that! I’m starving. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Not particularly, I’m guessing you have a suggestion?”

“Definitely!” Oksana’s eyes sparkled and pulled away from Eve to slip between two cards and head toward the other side of the parking lot. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, “ride with me.”

Eve followed her, but halted as soon as she what Oksana was leaning against.

“You seriously drive a motorcycle? You say the kids here drive you crazy, but I swear you act like a university student sometimes.”

Oksana rolled her eyes. “There’s a huge difference between liking twenty-somethings and liking acting like a twenty-something.”

“I am not getting on the back of that thing.”

“There’s rush hour traffic, it’ll be quicker. Come on, if we get there soon we’ll make happy hour!”

“No way.”

“Eve…” Oksana whined, coming up to her with her best pouty look splattered all over her face. “Pretty please? It’ll be fun. You know I’m fun. I won’t let you get hurt, promise. Look, I even have an extra helmet!” She pulled it out and offered it to Eve with her impossible to refuse smile.

“Fine. Just this once. Be careful.”

“Ha! We’re going to go fast. Do you know the top speed that-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No. I just want to get to dinner in one piece.”

Oksana rolled her eyes. “Fine. Someday. We’ll go out of the city on the open roads and I’ll show you. You know, you should go to Tuscany someday, ride a motorcycle through the hills there. It’s beautiful.”

“Oksana, when would I ever get the chance to do such a thing?”

“I’ve done it. Twice. Actually three times, maybe, I can’t remember. It’s great fun though, highly recommend.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Oksana grinned. “It’s party of why I’m so great. Now get on.”

—————-

“The bread is really good here, have some.” Oksana pushed the basket towards Eve and she grabbed a roll and started tearing small pieces off of it one at a time. “This was a good idea, I was getting tired of eating peanuts and cherries half the nights of the week.”

“This is a really nice place,” Eve said looking around at the decor and well dressed couple leaning over candles to talk to each other. It wasn’t the kind of place Eve had ever really frequented herself and she felt quite underdressed for it, but Oksana wasn’t really even up to the standards either and she seemed perfectly at home.

“It is, they have really good food. I like the pasta. Though I guess we’ve already eaten a lot of bread so maybe not,” Oksana was finishing her third roll, “I feel like steak. Ooh, we could get both and split it, do you want to? I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll eat anything.”

“Uh, sure.”

It was dawning on Eve that the bars they’d been in previously had provided at lot more sound cover compared to the restaurant that was filled with nothing more than violin music and quiet voices. Oksana really had chosen a fairly extravagant place for what Eve had assumed was nothing more than a quick bite to eat. But, then, that was Oksana.

In the loud bars, Eve had been able to pretend she hadn’t heard Oksana when she needed more time to come up with a response, a tactic that she had used on more than one occasion. Without that shelter and Eve found herself stumbling over her words more than ever. Oksana just wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“Eve?”

Eve blinked. She’d been staring at Oksana’s mouth without actually hearing the words coming out of it.

“Yes, sorry, what?”

Oksana laughed. “I asked if you wanted to share a bottle of wine.” Eve looked away from her to discover that a waiter had arrived at their table and was looking at her expectantly.

“That sounds great.”

She really needed to pull herself together.

For the most part, though, Eve kept up with Oksana throughout dinner, listening to her light hearted chatter and amusing anecdotes and doing her best to make her own intelligent additions. They ended up in a long debate about the problems and relative merits of their somewhat conflicting graduate school research projects, during which Oksana jabbed a fork in Eve’s direction, emphasizing some particularly important point, and consequently flung a piece of pasta at a passing waiter. He gave her the most disdainful of looks and she simply shrugged at him before bursting into the kind of laughter that earned her much the same look from all the surrounding tables.

It was late and the restaurant was starting to clear by the time they hit any real lull in conversation; dessert was apparently being the only thing that could give Oksana real pause. Maybe it was the soft lighting and soothing music or maybe it was the wine, not that she’d had nearly enough to make such an excuse, but Eve suddenly felt the need to deal with an issue that had been stewing in the back of her mind since the first day they’d met.

“Okay, I need to ask you something and I know I might not like the answer, but it’s been almost two months and we can’t just keep avoiding the topic.

"Alright," Oksana said slowly, setting down her fork and giving Eve her full attention.

"You clearly used to work for a defense firm, right? And probably defended some not-so-great people, I assume? And I was at MI6 so basically we were kind of on opposite sides back then. Which is why we haven’t really had this conversation. It’s slightly awkward.”

Oksana pressed her lips together and gazed off to the side. It took her awhile to respond. “Yes. I worked for DLA Twelve.”

“Oh.”

Eve knew that law firm. She knew it’s reputation, knew what kind of cases they handled, the kind of people they’d gotten off. They had originally been multiple big-name law firms, each headed up by several big shot lawyers, that ultimately merged together. They were huge, international, and they handled everything from criminal cases to civil suits to corporate litigations. Everyone knew them. When Eve had worked for MI6, she’d occasionally had to give expert testimony in court. It was rarely a big deal, but the one time it had been an ordeal was when she was pinned down on the witness stand by one of their lawyers. They’d lost the case; that tended to happen when they faced the DLA Twelve - people got away with things.

“Do you hate me now?” On the surface, Oksana’s smile was light-hearted and a bit cheeky, but Eve could tell there was genuine concern underlying the question.

“Well, this could certainly would make things tense if we were working our past jobs. But no, of course not. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything really horrible that you were responsible for getting swept under the rug, right?” Eve voiced it rhetorically, but she really did want an answer.

“No. Like you said, obviously there were less than great people who did less than great things, that’s the business, but it wasn’t stuff from nightmares. And even on the worst of them, my work was a very small share of what went down in those cases.”

“They must have thought you were valuable, they clearly paid you well enough.”

“You have to understand, Eve, half the time they were just paying me to show up and look pretty. Be a distraction, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re joking.”

“Mostly. But not entirely. We had plans like that, Oksana will distract juror number three during the testimony by wearing a low cut top. ”

“That cannot have been the majority of your work.”

“Okay, that may have only been once. But still, you get my point. It was mostly stupid. They paid me too much, not that I ever objected.”

“Is that why you left? It was stupid, you got bored?”

“Something like that. I just...needed something to change.”

“I get that. I really get that.”

#killing eve fic #killing eve #oksana #Eve Polastri #eve x oksana #eve x Villanelle #villanelle #oksana astankova #killing eve au #killing eve university au #killing eve teacher au #my posts #my fics

1 note · View note

rose-of-pollux · 5 years

Text

Now and Then (Super Mario oneshot)

Title: Now and Then Rating: G Summary: [Slice of life, post-Odyssey] A simple question from Cappy gets Luigi reminiscing about his and Mario’s unique friendship with Princess Peach. Notes: This is my entry for @bossmedley for @mariosecretsanta2018; the prompt was “Mario, Luigi, and Peach at a picnic at the castle.” Hope you enjoy!

Cross-posted to ff.net if you prefer reading there, can’t link due to the new linking restrictions…

The two brothers had been carrying the largest picnic basket full of food they could find; it was rather heavy, prompting Luigi to complain about it. But Mario cheerfully encouraged him to keep his chin up—after all, how often did they get to enjoy a peaceful picnic, uninterrupted by Bowser or any other villain du jour?

Peach, assisted by Tiara, was putting the final touches on a cake as she glanced out the window to see Mario and Luigi arriving at the castle garden. Mario saw her and waved (releasing his end of the picnic basket, causing Luigi to scramble to keep it from tipping over), a big grin on his face (and an exasperated look on his brother's).

"Hello, Peach!" he called.

"Hey, you two!" she called back. "I'll be right out!"

"Okay; we'll get all this set up in the meantime!" Mario returned. "C'mon, Little Bro!"

Luigi rolled his eyes slightly as Cappy now hopped off of Mario's head to assist him with the picnic basket.

"He gets excited really easily, doesn't he?" the Bonnetor observed. "I seemed to observe as much when we traveled through all of those kingdoms. I thought it was the thrill of the adventure, but it seems he's like that even when things are normal."

"Yeah, he's always been like that. You get used to it," Luigi said, with a shrug. He smirked in spite of himself as he began to set up things on the picnic table once Mario had spread the tablecloth over it.

Cappy chuckled and helped out as Mario now also finally began to help out arranging things—at least until Peach and Tiara arrived with the cake, upon which he promptly dropped everything to help carry the cake.

Cappy watched in interest—Toads that were attending to things in the garden stopped to bow to Peach as she walked past. And yet, Mario hadn't bowed to the princess—had he just been overly excited for the picnic? …Come to think of it, Cappy couldn't recall Mario ever bowing to Peach, even during the times they had met up in the various kingdoms after her rescue. At any rate, she didn't seem to mind.

"I know Mario admires the princess very much," he said to Luigi. "He wanted to propose before Bowser interrupted him."

"Uh-huh," Luigi agreed.

"And you see the princess as a friend, too."

"Of course!"

"But neither of you bow to her like the other Toads do," Cappy observed. "I don't mean to pry, but is there a reason?"

Luigi paused for a moment.

"Actually, there is," he said. "Mario did bow to Peach once—a long, long time ago, when we were all very young. We used to play together as little kids—it didn't matter that Peach was a princess and Mario and I weren't royals… Kamek had predicted that my brother and I would bring trouble for the Koopas, and when Peach's father, the King, found out, he wanted us to remain close with Peach. Our papa thought it was great that we had royal connections, but… Mama was more concerned about Kamek having his eye on us. And then there was an alien invasion…" He shuddered; thanks to E. Gadd's time machine, they got to experience the Shroob takeover twice.

"Oh, I see!" Cappy said. "Because you grew up together and went through all that, no one saw the reason for you two to bow to her?"

"Well, actually, no…" Luigi said. "After the alien invasion, Mama insisted that we leave the Mushroom Kingdom. She'd been making plans with Papa without letting the King find out, but then, one day, while all this planning was going on, Bowser—still a prince at the time—showed up at the castle to cause trouble again while Mario and I were there… I'd gotten a bit battered in the fight, and there's no quicker way to make Mario mad than to do that to me…"

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

At that age, there had been little that Mario could have done to avenge his brother, but angrily chasing Bowser around the throne room with a fire flower had apparently been enough to keep young Bowser on the run.

Luigi had been sniffling on the floor as he had sat up, more shaken than hurt, but still on the verge of tears; Peach had been looking from him to Mario, but before she had been able to say or do anything, all four youngsters had nearly leaped out of their skins as the throne room burst open—revealing a very angry woman shrieking in Italian.

Their mother had been angrier than the brothers could have ever imagined—though, in hindsight, she'd had good reason. In an instant, she had raced across the room, gathering Luigi in her arms and now heading for Mario and Bowser.

Bowser had quickly realized he was in a great deal of danger and leaped out the window to get away from the angry mother; Mario had hastily hidden the fire flower behind his back, but before she could question him, the king had chosen that moment to enter the throne room, and she turned her wrath on him instead.

"Is this how you raise children!? My sons and your daughter were attacked by un piccolo demone! Look at what that beast has done to my little Luigi!"

She certainly hadn't bothered to bow, and neither the king nor Toadsworth had been brave enough to remind her of protocol.

"The Shroobs—they came, and you learned nothing!" she had ranted on. "You have had your chances; my boys are not safe here! Si—we go! Ciao!"

"Er… Yes, of course," Toadsworth had said. "This won't happen next time; you have our word-"

"Next time?" she had replied, incredulously. "No! No next time! We are leaving this kingdom! I have been planning this since the Shroobs attacked—but now we must go earlier!"

Luigi had looked at his mother, and then across the room at his brother, who had dropped the fire flower in shock. Leave the Mushroom Kingdom? Leave their friend Peach?

Peach had obviously arrived at the same conclusion, for she immediately started to wail; Mario had tried to get her to cheer up, but it was difficult when he himself was close to tearing up.

The King and Toadsworth had tried to get the brothers' mother to reconsider, but her mind had been set, and they knew that trying to dissuade a protective mother would be a battle they would not be able to win.

Realizing that they had backed down, she had turned to her other son.

"Mario! Vieni, stiamo andando!"

But Peach was still crying, and Mario didn't want to leave her.

"Mario!" his mother said, again, sternly.

Gently, Mario had taken Peach's hand and bowed; she had been surprised and pleased enough to stop crying, managing a small smile. It was short-lived, however; Mario soon found himself being taken by the hand and leaving with his mother and brother, and as the throne room doors closed behind them, they could hear Peach starting to cry all over again…

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

"…And that was what happened," Luigi finished, back in the present. "The only time Mario ever bowed to Peach."

"But you made it back to the Mushroom Kingdom," Cappy said.

"Not intentionally," Luigi admitted. "As we got older, being raised away from all this, we sort of… forgot about the Mushroom Kingdom and Peach and everything as we grew up—I think Mama wanted it that way… She wanted us to have quiet, normal lives where nothing ever happened. She was so happy when Mario and I wanted to get into a normal, everyday career like plumbing. …But then, while on the job, we found the warp pipe back to the Mushroom Kingdom just as Bowser had kidnapped Peach. We still didn't remember her or the Kingdom, but you know how Mario is—if someone needs help, then he's just gotta go help them. Pauline can back me up on that."

"Yes, of course," Cappy said. "He helped me find my sister, even though he had Peach to worry about."

Luigi nodded.

"Mario led the way, and I followed, and we found Peach… We still didn't remember her, but Mario… I remember he just walked up to her and introduced us, saying that we were getting her out of Bowser's castle, and I was kinda embarrassed at first, since the Toads had told us she was their princess, but… Mario thought that the last thing she needed was someone who wasn't going to be open and honest and wouldn't get caught up in all those protocols. Looking back, I think he was right; we'd have been nervous trying to stick to all those rules, and that wouldn't have helped her feel better at all."

"Ohh, so that's why?"

"Partly," Luigi said. "The real decision came right after the rescue, when Peach wanted to formally thank us for the rescue—with a picnic just like this, actually…"

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

Luigi had been staring absently into the window of a store in Toad Town when he had been jolted from his thoughts by his brother calling his name.

"There you are, Luigi! What's up, Little Bro?"

"I'm just thinking about the picnic this afternoon," Luigi had replied. "We need to buy something to wear."

"We do?"

Luigi had given him a look.

"…You don't expect us to go to the princess's castle dressed like this, do you?" he had asked, indicating their work shirts and overalls. "That warp pipe that brought us here seems to be closed now; we can't exactly go back and get our Sunday best. I think we have enough coins to get something nice, though."

"Hmm, I think we'd be better off saving our coins for food and a place to stay," Mario had replied. "With that warp pipe being closed, we might be here a while."

"Oh… Well, that may be, but if we turn up looking like this, we could get thrown out! If we're embarrassed, it'll be harder finding a place to stay…"

"I don't think the princess is like that," Mario had said. "She seemed nice enough when we found her in that castle."

"We did just free her…"

"Trust me on this, Little Bro; it'll be fine—you'll see!"

Mario seemed to have put all doubts behind him, but Luigi had continued to be nervous as they arrived at Peach's castle later that day. Mario strode in with the same confidence he always had, but Luigi had been looking around, noticing the looks from the Toads—and hearing the whispers.

He had known exactly what they were saying—whispering about how these two battle-damaged plumbers were daring to meet the princess dressed in those old rags. Normally, Luigi was never bothered with the fact that he and his brother were maintenance men; life in a big city meant crossing paths with those of a higher standing, and both he and his brother had learned to look white-collar folk in the eyes without being intimidated (not hard when their usual interactions were said white-collar folk begging them to save their backed-up sinks or busted pipes). But this situation had been nothing like that—strangers in a new land, meeting royalty? Luigi couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Peach, in an elegant gown, had been there in the throne room to greet them—the same throne room where they had been separated all those years ago, and now formally reunited (though they hadn't realized it yet). She had extended her hand like any royal lady would, having been trained to put up with guests kissing her hand, whether or not she was comfortable with the idea.

Mario wasn't going to have any of that; why should she be forced to have her hand kissed just because she was a princess? And, anyway, he had been determined to put the cards on the table and present himself as he was, no false airs or anything like that.

And so, instead of kissing her hand, he shook her hand, as though greeting a friend.

The reaction had been instantaneous; quiet gasps and murmurs from the Toads about how clueless Mario must be began to fill the room, and Toadsworth had been facepalming. And Luigi had begun to blush in secondhand embarrassment at all of this.

But the only ones who hadn't seem embarrassed were Mario and Peach. Mario had been continuing to look her in eyes with a friendly expression, and Peach, though initially surprised by the handshake, had suddenly looked genuinely pleased.

"Mario, I want to formally thank you and your brother Luigi for risking your lives to rescue me from Bowser."

"We always try to help out," Mario had said, with a grin. "And we thank you for this kind gesture of a picnic."

"The pleasure is mine, my friends."

It had been those two words—'my friends'—that had reassured both Mario and Luigi that everything would be fine. And Peach had been reassured, as well, for she had found friends who would treat her without dancing around her and her royalty, as so many others had done.

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

"And that's why we're here, able to be all casual with the princess," Luigi finished. "She's been a great friend to us all these years, the fact that she's a princess and we're just plumbers was never an issue at all." He smiled as he watched Peach gently chide Mario for trying to sneak a taste of the cake before it was time for dessert. "It's also why their friendship can survive the rejection of a wrongly-timed marriage proposal—at the end of the day, they will always care about each other."

"And you," Cappy added.

"And me," Luigi agreed. "And you and Tiara, too—you pretty much joined our circle of friends when you helped Mario out."

"…I'm honored," the Bonnetor said, sounding rather touched.

Luigi smiled.

"C'mon, let's eat!"

Luigi and Cappy caught up to the others and dug in, enjoying the food and company as they ate, all of them grateful for their circle of friends, and being a part of it.

#Mario #Luigi #Peach #Super Mario #mariosecretsanta2018 #fanfics

7 notes · View notes

rosey-writes · 5 years

Text

The Alchemist Tributes: Book One

Questioning

Demand Answers

There used to be a library around here. And by ‘used to’, I mean before Panem even existed. I mean back in the days before the floods and quakes and some apocalyptic, omnipresent being called ‘Taylor Swift’. Before the Dark Days were even an idea. Back in some place called ‘America’.

I learned about it on one of the many, many runs from my dad. This isn’t a sob story, I’m not special because I have daddy issues and mommy got shot. I was too young to remember her anyway, and I’d be far from unique. But, I was still a child running away from his problems.

There are next to no natural areas in District 1, unless you count the trimmed, plastic gardens spaced in the richer neighborhoods. The whole place was paved over, factories, lakes wherever the eye could see. And so, the polluted little lake in the middle of the poorest part of our city was where I went. Sitting by the water, I’d dipped my feet in, because I was young and stupid and hadn’t heard the word cholera before; when my feet brushed something plastic. I’d leaned down, pulling it from the water, and inside was a book, shrink-wrapped in a sealed container, words Yorkwood Library stamped across the cover. With a bit of digging, I found three more, each with the same stamp. From then on, time to time I came back to that lake, occasionally dredging some scraps to acknowledge that yes, the world was, in fact, always this shitty.

Regardless, in my sessions of grey-area treason, I came the concept of ‘karma’. And, as I am realizing at this very moment she is, in fact, a bitch.

Yeah, as I was marched into the justice building, locked in the visiting room, left to stew in my own misery, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me that, alright, maybe this is a teensy tiny bit entirely my own fault. That maybe, when you’re a dick to everyone you meet, they just might take the opportunity to get rid of you.

However, that doesn’t make me want to kill them any less.

Quite honestly, I was expecting I wouldn’t get a single visitor, until Illias stormed through the doors, the wood cracking back against the concrete. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Yes, it’s my fault I was voted-” the first landed on my cheek landed before I could even react, wincing, clutching it as a peacekeeper snapped Illias from behind, handcuffing them together with a mutter of ‘no injuring the tribute.’

Like a rabid mutt, kicking and screaming, his skin bled red from trying to twist to pull his arms away as a second peacekeeper came to subdue him. “This was my turn, mine! I should be in there! Let go of me, they can’t take him if he’s dead!” As he was dragged out, I stayed glued to the couch, wondering if winning really was such a great idea anymore. Maybe I should just let him rip my colon through my nose. It may just be quicker at this point.

After he was gone, my father came in, Bravon stomping, Satin following like a kicked puppy at their heels.

Clearing his throat, Aren sat, face impassive. “So.”

There was a long, long pause, before Bravon decided to break the silence with a stomp. “You just had to spite us, didn’t you? You couldn’t let Illias have this, you just had to go and take it for yourself.”

“He can have it back. Please take it off my hands.” It was hard to keep the desperation from bleeding into my voice. I couldn’t be weak, not now, not until I was alone in the train.

“This isn’t funny.” He slammed his hands down in a way that was so Illias like, he had to have practiced. Big brother worship at it’s finest. “You’re going to die in there. He would have won.”

“Nice to know that’s why you don’t want me going in-”

“You never seemed to mind him dying, any of us dying, you never seem to care about mom, you never cared about Ale-”

“You expect me to have that much of an attachment to a woman I practically never met?” I could hear the waver, my pitch going up, volume going down, fists clenching behind my back. This wasn’t going to last. And he did not dare to bring up - stop. “What makes you so certain I won’t win?”

The silence said more than any ‘Bambi.’

“I can’t believe you.” Turning out, Bravon stormed through the doors. All that was left was dad and Satin.

“Son.” Aren stood, staring down at me. “You know how I feel. And you know how I feel about your brother. Don’t dishonor this family anymore. Win with dignity, or don’t come home at all.” And there he went. All that was left was Satin.

Biting his lip, Satin fidgeted in his seat, checking the door like some monster would spring and attack him.

“I know you can win.”

What? He said it so quietly, I...I couldn’t have heard it right.

“I know you can, Eli, I know it. They know it to. It’s why they’re angry, you’re taking Illias’s glory.” A small smile came to Satin’s face. “You’re going to outsmart them.”

With a slight gulp, I tried to keep my eyes from widening. “I…”

“Stunned? The great, verbose Eliot? I’ll take it as a victory.” Satin patted my shoulder, standing. “I love you, little bro. Go get’m. Size isn’t everything, right?” He glanced to the door again. “And don’t tell dad, but, I’m quitting the Academy.”

What? No. He. What?

“Mister Deamorte. He’s looking for an assistant, and Fiyero told me he said if I applied, I’d get it on the spot.” Today was just getting more and more confusing. I wanted to ask why, but, well… it was nice, having at least one person say they were rooting for me.

“I love you too.” With a sad smile, I pulled Satin into a hug. More than a little awkward, considering he had a full head on me, but I needed it. I’ve never needed it before. Right now, I needed it more than anything.

The peacekeeper on the other side knocked “Times up.”

With a shuddering breath, I pulled back. “Hey, Satin.”

“Yeah?”

I gave a small smile. “You get my room.”

---

Minutes later, I was in the car. I caught my reflection in the mirror, bruises blossoming on my cheek, hair splayed at every angle. I looked beaten, broken, and more than anything else, pissed. And, sadly, not in the strong, rage-filled vengeance quest I wanted. More like a petulant child.

I didn’t have any makeup, so I reached into my backpack, pulling out my hooded jacket, shoving the suit aside. Throwing it on, I pulled the strings so it covered my face. Alright, that works. When I went to put the pack back down, I heard the clink of glass.

Oh, right, I brought the perfumes.

With a sigh, I picked one up. Chamomile peppermint and a dash of rosemary, to calm anxiety and up your energy. I liked it, but it was far from popular. With a slight smile, I sprayed it on. I felt my shoulders relax, eyes drifting shut.

A few minutes later, I was shoved into the horde of paparazzi, vultures, whatever you can imagine. My face was hidden by the hood, thankfully. I hoped it came off dangerous, but I’m pretty sure I just looked scared shitless. Especially next to Amazonia; six foot two, with those grass green eyes that showed just how much she couldn’t wait to gouge out my own, muddy brown. I managed to glance in the reflection of one of the car windows and dear God. I looked like a terrified child hiding behind his mother. A mother who wants to eat him, but hey, that describes lots of kids here.

Mercifully, we were pushed through the doors, which shut behind us. I was alone, finally… okay, well, I wasn’t alone, there were Capitol people everywhere, plus Amazonia, but I was as alone as I was going to get until they gave me a room. So, I pulled down my hood, sighing in relief as the train began to move.

… And to stop again in another ten minutes.

Look, we’re on a Capitol trains, which go what, 250 MPH? From District 1, we’d be there in an hour. The Capitol doesn’t want that, they want all the tributes arriving on the same day, so the train sits here twenty four hours, as we twiddle our thumbs like schmucks.

Soon I was led to my room, which… wow… this… I was not expecting this. The walls were a lush glittery gold, muted enough a shade that it calmed instead of glared. The sheets were plush enough I thought they were actual clouds, a small window hanging above the bed showed the forest landscape I never thought I’d see. Pulling open the drawer, it was stuffed with thick wool, silk, cashmere everything. I’d never seen anything so luxurious.

Now, I live - lived, I corrected myself, then changed it back to live because I’m winning this thing damn it - in Victor’s Village, which is nice. Extremely nice. I figured I had as high a life as one could get, though I never took much advantage of it. As soon as dad dies I’d be kicked out. Even if one of my brothers won the games, there’s not a doubt in my mind they would have me arrested if I came over for tea.

… Except… apparently Satin.

Plopping down on the bed, I brought my knees to my chest, because this made no sense. Satin, I knew he was the smartest, I suspected he had more to life ahead of him than murder, but, well… I was never nice to Satin. I was probably worse to him than any of my other brothers, because Illias could step on me, and Bravon was a slightly smaller Illias. Satin, while still stronger than me and a good head, well, ahead, he never gave the same danger reading. I guess that made him the easier target.

Karma.

Honestly, the fact that he visited me, it made this so, so much worse. Because I could just run on rage before. I could blindly charge in because I had nothing to lose, everything to prove, and my only reason for coming home was to rub it in their faces. But now, Satin cared. Now I was going to have to deal with this guilt in the back of my mind. It’s so foreign to me, caring, and of course the first time I get it is right before I have to slit a twelve-year-old’s throat.

With a sigh, I stood again, heading into the bathroom. The shower was… I can’t even begin to describe this thing. The amount of buttons made it look like someone dropped an octopus tentacle in chrome. Well, I guess that does more than begin to describe it.

That wasn’t what I was looking for, though. After a bit of digging, I managed to find some makeup in the drawers. Half my face was plum colored now, ached at the slightest prod. My shoulder seemed popped too, and as the prod began to fade I felt the ache flowing through me. Gritting my teeth, I applied the cover-up, just enough to hide any evidence of getting clocked in the face. I’m sure my design team will have much better for this, and I was far from the best with makeup.

Though I know someone who is.

Ah, there, that’s something I can get behind thinking about. Fiyero Deamorte. All the things I was going to do to that brat when I saw him. This was his fault, all of it, I know it. As soon as it was announced, he turned to all his little followers, who turned to theirs, and that’s why everyone voted for me. I mean, I piss off a lot of people, but not enough to swing the entire youth population of a District to just write off the male candidate for victory. No, the only person with that kind of mind-control is same one who couldn’t spell it.

Soon, there was a knock at my door, offering to lead me to the dining room. I quickly stripped off my outfit, throwing on a pair that was labeled ‘sweatpants’ and a loose cotton shirt that felt like it didn’t exist. Seriously, I had to check the mirror five times to be sure I wasn’t actually naked. It was a strange sensation.

Then I’m led- dragged- to the table, large oak wood with golden finishing, with a white tablecloth. I wanted to take the moment to be impressed, but, instead, I just wanted to run back to the safety of my room because Amazonia was staring again.

“So you came, huh? Thought you would’ve offed yourself with a scarf by now, save us all the trouble.”

“Now, come on, you know nothing gives me more joy than being a pain in the ass.” I sat down across from her, rather impressed with the fact I didn’t actually melt into a pile on the floor.

“Smart. Smart’s not going to do you much good when there’s a sword in your gut.”

“Well I-”

“Tributes.” Lamar cleared his throat from behind me, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t jump. But I’m a liar, so, I did not jump.

“Finally, someone I can actually talk to.” Amazonia crossed her legs, clicking her tongue.

Sitting down at the head, Lamar cleared his throat. “First, we’ll get our food, then, we’ll begin to talk strategy.”

“We’re missing two people.” From everything I’d ever heard or read, the escort and other mentor join you for your meal.

“They’re…” There was the sound of shattered glass, a cheer, and loud laughter far down the hallways. “Occupied for now.”

Lovely.

Within a few moments, the meal began to arrive, and, I say this as one of the richest people, in the richest District, our most victorious lifespans yet, this is by far more food than I’d ever seen. I could see Amazonia outright salivating. Sometimes I forget, even in our District, more than a few people don’t get enough to eat.

But still, I didn’t even know this many types of food existed. I couldn’t recognize half the meats or vegetables, anything, really. They all just paraded in front of my eyes, and I knew now was not the time to try out a new fad diet, they’re called the Hunger Games for a reason, and with my metabolism, I would have about twenty minutes before I starved at my weight.

About halfway through them bringing out the first course, though, these little, for lack of a better term, white balls came out, sprinkled with green herbs - garlic, I was later told - with a cup of liquid butter next to it. I admit, I was interested.

They were the single best thing I have ever experienced in my life. Not the best food. The best anything. I’m rather sure they will forever be the best thing I will experience, sorry to any future children who are unfortunate enough to share my DNA, their birth will be about a four in comparison to this. Needless to say, I ordered another six rounds.

When all the food was brought, Lamar placed down his fork and knife. “Down to business. First, what skills do you have?”

Amazonia cracked her knuckles, and that’s when I noticed she’d actually sharpened her canines. Are you kidding me. “Are there any skills I don’t have?”

“Be specific, please.”

“Throwing knives, swords, spears, clubs, climbing, and tracking were all A subjects for me. I graduated top of the class every year I was in.”

Lamar gave a slow nod, jotting notes down in a small black book. “Swift?” I wasn’t sure if I should be glad or angry about the fact this man who’s known me since I could breathe seemed to have zero emotional attachment to my fate.

“I…” What could I say here? “Chemistry.”

Amazonia started to cackle, but Lamar glanced to her, and she stifled it with her napkin. “Anything else? Anything you have experience in?”

“Just chemistry.”

“... Chemistry,” he repeated in a low, incredulous voice. “Your skillset for a game of murder is chemistry?” And in that moment, I knew I no longer had a mentor.

After the meal, we’re led to another compartment where the TV takes up the entire wall. Lamar skips District 1, saving it for last. I want to complain, but, he’s just about the only person I can’t afford to hate me. Don’t care about me, fine, he wasn’t getting me any sponsors anyway, but on the astronomical chance someone does want to donate, I don’t want him refusing.

District 2 is even more terrifying than usual. They picked their best and brightest, no doubt, both boy and girl. And… I admit to possibly staring at the boy a bit longer than I should have. Shut up, I’m about to die, leave me alone. Only interesting thing from District 3 is the girl is twelve, possibly the only one my height and weight, so I can’t even begin to imagine what horrible things she did to get her name on the ballot. District 4 is like District 2, the District 5 boy broke down crying on the spot, District 6 boy did some strange hand thing, District 11 recruited a girl I think is an actual giant, and District 12 has just given up on ever winning again since their humiliation, because they sent up two fourteen-year-olds who barely knew what was going on. But, it’s still me and District 3 tied for smallest.

Finally, everything was brought back to District 1… and it was so much worse than I thought.

“They’re really sending up a twelve-year-old?”

“So sad, really, but what can you do, these things happen.”

“Oh, oh, oh, did you hear! He’s a Swift!”

“No way, like, the Aren Swift? I heard one of his sons was going up this year.”

“Just not the one everyone was looking for.”

“Aww, but look how cute he is, he’s swearing. It’s always so adorable when little kids try to sound grown up.”

My face was burning red, visible even through the makeup, and I knew Amazonia didn’t miss it. The look on Lamar’s face cemented it. I had no shot of getting help from him.

When I was led back to my bed, I was forced to look, objectively, at my circumstance. I was outmatched, outclassed in every possible way, I had no mentor, no chance of sponsors,

Amazonia would be gunning for me for bragging rights back home, I have zero survival skills that would actually apply to the games, and absolutely no one is rooting for me back home, except a brother who will get a beating if he says it.

I have this big rallying speech somewhere in my head, that it doesn’t matter everything is against me, an underdog chant, that I’ll win anyway, I’ll show karma who’s really a bitch. But it felt hollow, it felt fake even to me.

This is my time to cry. This is all I’ll have time for, because I won’t have much of it left. Whether that be through death or trauma.

So, I let it go. This was it, my chance to let go of years of pent-up hatred, guilt, you fucking name it. Towards what, I don’t know. For being small, for being temperamental, for never being good enough, for always knowing how I treated people was wrong but just never being able to stop my mouth before it moved. I didn’t know what the tears were for, pity for myself, anger at the world, maybe a bit of both. They were hot on my face, felt like someone cut open my eyes and let the blood drip down, thick and heavy down my cheeks, leaving wells in their wake. The water dripped onto the cloth, making it stick to my skin, and I could feel it, feel it cling to me, like it was trying to attack me, like everyone else.

Even if I survive this, I’m dead. There is no going home. There is no home anymore. Illias will never forgive me for taking what he worked his whole life for, Bravon never liked me to begin with, dad, I never told dad I loved him, that I cared, because he was just always there and the thought never crossed my mind that one day he just won’t. And Satin, if he’s smart, he’ll stay as far away from me if he can. I was alone before, I thought I was, but this is a new sort of alone. The last one was self-imposed, this is permanent.

And it’s all my fault. This is all my fault. As I slept, as I dreamed, I knew that one word would forever be burned into my bone marrow.

Karma.

#Hunger Games #Hunger games fanfic #Hunger games fanfiction #Eliot Swift #Amazonia Rhodes #The Alchemist Tributes

4 notes · View notes

crashing-into-the-sun · 6 years

Text

good things grow here

When Simon moves in next door to Baz, they become fast friends. As the years pass, Baz's feelings develop into something more. Falling in love in four parts.

Word Count: 6742 My fic for the spring @snowbazextravaganza

Thanks to @infinityonhighvevo for betaing for me! part one. daffodil. new beginnings.

There was a boy in the house next door, dancing in the window.

His curtains were ajar, sunlight streaming in and setting his bronze curls alight. They gleamed as he shook them about foolishly, as if each curl was a bit of gold. From his place on the lawn, Baz could just hear the undercurrent of a bass rhythm, coming from the boy’s room. He smiled to himself without thinking about it, surprised and endeared by the boy’s uninhibited joy.

The family who lived there now– the Salisburys– had moved in just three days before. Baz hadn’t been home at the time, but he heard his father making a racket about how disorganized those people were. The mother, Malcolm had said in shock, came out of the vehicle barefoot and in pajamas. As though it were the worst type of travesty to travel in comfort. To Malcolm’s great chagrin, there was no father in sight.

Now wouldn’t it be funny, Baz thought as he tore another weed from the dirt, if Malcolm were to find Baz fraternizing with that neighbor boy? He stole another glance toward the window, and laughed aloud when he saw the boy brandishing a kitchen ladle as a makeshift microphone. That, he thought, would really set his father off. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. Daphne wouldn’t be pleased with the stains, but they were ruined already. He’d been kneeling on the wet grass for so long that the knees were soaked and green.

There was no car in the other driveway. The boy in the window was, it seemed, home alone. Baz shucked his shoes for no other reason than to spite his father, and made his way to the other lawn. He knelt down to pick up a small pebble and threw it up toward the boy’s window.

Baz was a terrible shot. It bounced off the house three feet left of the window and far too low. He tried again, this time, succeeding in hitting the glass. The boy jumped and dropped his ladle, clamoring to shut off his music. He threw open his window and poked his head out.

“What d’you want?” he shouted at Baz, cheeks red from exertion and embarrassment.

Baz looked up, suddenly bashful. Closer now, he could see the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of the boy’s nose, could see how plump and red his lips were, and the bright, laser blue focus of his eyes. “I live next door,” Baz responded, conscious now of how disheveled he was in his dirty jeans and old, too-small t-shirt. “Would you like to come help me with my garden? I could use some company.”

The boy ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. “What do you need help with?”

“I’m just watering and weeding, then I’ve got to do a bit of fertilizer. The daffodils are looking sort of limp.” It didn’t sound incredibly exciting, now that he’d said it out loud. Baz frowned. “I thought you might want to get out of the house. You could pick a bouquet for your mum, if you wanted.” Now, why had he offered that? Nobody was allowed to cut his flowers. Baz’s frown deepened, but the curly-haired boy just grinned.

“Sure! Mum’d love a bouquet. Down in a minute.” The window slammed, giving Baz a start, and in a flash the boy was whirling out the door and down the porch stairs.

“I’m Simon,” he said, holding out his hand to Baz. He smelled of sweat and mint. In his other hand were two chocolate chip cookies. “Would you like one?”

Baz shook Simon’s hand and introduced himself, biting down gratefully into the soft cookie. “These are good,” he said through a full mouth, and Simon beamed.

“I made them,” he boasted, following Baz over to the garden. “They’re a day old, but my secret to keeping them soft is putting some white bread in with them in the container.” He paused to gulp down the last bit of the sweet before continuing. “I know a little about baking, but nothing about gardening. You’ll have to give me a hand with that.”

“It’s nothing hard that we’ve got to do. Not like transplanting or cross pollination. I’ve just got a simple garden. It started out as a school project last year for my Botany class, but I’ve grown to quite like it.”

“You talk so posh,” he commented, kneeling down like Baz and watching, then copying, as he pulled the weeds. “I doubt you’ve ever said a cuss word in your life.”

Baz spluttered. “I’ve said a cuss word. I’m not a baby, I’m fourteen. Of course I’ve said a cuss word. I just know how to speak properly. There’s no shame in that.”

“‘Course not,” Simon said teasingly, glancing up through his eyelashes at Baz. “Nothing wrong with being a goody-goody.”

Baz turned up his chin, defiant, but a smile played at his lips nevertheless. “I’m not a goody-goody. I speak the Queen’s English.”

“I speak the Queen’s English,” Simon mimicked, puffing out his chest. He tugged a weed out from the dirt and balled it up in his fist, torpedoing it toward Baz’s chest. The dirt exploded on impact, clinging in bits to his t-shirt.

Baz’s jaw gaped open. “You did not just do that,” he said. He felt his face go hot, looking at the devilish smirk on Simon’s face. Simon’s curls blew gently in the breeze, and his fingers drummed impatient patterns on his leg. Baz reached toward the garden.

Weeds and grass flew through the air, haphazard, a storm of green, and a symphony of laughter echoed from Simon and Baz. It felt warmer, Baz noticed, warmer and happier, like they’d been covered by a blanket of goodness. Simon grabbed Baz by the arm and shoved and handful of greens down the back of his t-shirt. Everything was yellow-sunshine-daisies-pure-fucking-glee, everything was heat on the back of Baz’s neck where Simon’s fingers lingered for a second too long, everything was blades of grass floating all around them like fairies before fluttering lightly to the ground.

Everything was Simon. Everything was good.

part two. ivy. friendship.

The leaves were just beginning to turn in the fall after Simon’s fifteenth birthday before Baz brought Simon back to the garden. “Come and buy wood and nails and things with me,” he said as they exited the school building. It was still hot and muggy, and bugs still buzzed through the air. The straps on Simon’s backpack were getting too tight on his ever-broadening shoulders, the sleeves of his hand-me-down tees stretching over his arms where they had been loose a year before. “I want to make a little fence.”

“What for?” Simon asked, looking back over his shoulder at Baz. His trademark curls were gone except for a swath of the on the top, which bounced as he walked. He’d cropped his hair close at the beginning of the year-- something about Agatha saying he looked like a mop. Baz didn’t like it, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m planting ivy in the garden and I don’t know how to work a hammer. You should help.” It sounded dumb, ‘don’t know how to work a hammer’, but it was true. As Simon grew stronger and broader and bigger, Baz grew lanky and delicate. He was the taller of the two, but his fingers were knobbly and thin like a skeleton and his wrists were as big around as most of the girls’. His growth spurt had hit him hard the month after he’d first met Simon, but rather than becoming gangly and clumsy, Baz had transformed into something lithe and dainty. His skinny fingers couldn’t use a work tool, but they could fly over the strings of a violin with unimaginable grace.

Baz couldn’t tell if he was jealous of Simon’s physique or simply entranced by it. Jealous, he figured. The muscles in Simon’s back were apparent through the thin, worn t-shirt in a way Baz’s would never be as he swung the backpack off his shoulders and began searching through it for his cell phone. “I’ll ask Mum,” he told Baz, already so sure his mother would say yes that he was headed in the direction of town instead of home. Lucy was rather fond of the Pitch children, though not so fond of their parentage.

“I can help you with your maths after we’re finished if you still need it,” Baz said, shuffling quicker to catch up to Simon. They fell into step as Simon talked with Lucy.

“Can I head out with- yes, with Baz. No, just to town. We’re making something for the garden. Yes. Yes. Love you!” Simon hung up the phone and tucked it into his pants pocket, then put the backpack on again. “Where are we headed?”

“I dunno, you’re the tool guy. Do I look like I know where to buy a hammer?”

“Oh, stop it with the hammers. You know what a hardware store is,” Simon chastised, rifling his hand through Baz’s hair teasingly. “Anyway, you don’t have to buy a hammer. I own a hammer. And I assure you they’re not hard to use.”

Baz fixed his hair, feigning annoyance. “Whatever you say, Salisbury.”

“You know I hate that,” Simon said, pushing into Baz with his shoulder. Baz pushed back. “Call me by my name.”

“Salisbury is your name,” Baz said with a smirk. They’d had this conversation, word for word, millions of times. He could mouth along with what Simon was going to say next.

“My first name, you dolt.” It was an unspoken agreement that the conversation went this way exactly and then they changed the subject.

“So, how are things with Agatha?” Baz asked, sorry the moment it came out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant the words to come out with such sharp edges, but they’d done so anyway. It was too venomous, too harsh, too little like he actually wanted to know, so he adjusted and continued, softer. “Did you ask her on that date after all?”

“No,” Simon confessed, sheepish. “I chickened out. But she’s been texting me all week. I think I’ll see if she wants to study on Saturday.”

“I thought we were going to go on a hike on Saturday,” Baz said, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady. It wasn’t that he was jealous, he thought, he just missed having Simon’s attention. Okay, so that sounded jealous. Baz furrowed his eyebrows.

“You didn’t even want to go,” Simon said, and Baz hated how apologetic he sounded. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can change it to Sunday, if you want, but she goes to church so I thought-”

“Don’t worry,” Baz interrupted. He smiled at Simon. “More Netflix time for me. Have fun. ‘Study’.” He air-quoted around the word study, and Simon sputtered.

“We will study,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think anything will happen.”

Something about the phrasing made Baz’s skin itch. He waited for a few seconds in silence, listening to their footsteps in synch, crunching over the dirt on the sidewalk. “Do you want something to happen?”

Simon looked at the ground, and Baz watched a flush creep over his cheeks. “I dunno, maybe. I mean, no. Well…” he trailed off, then flicked his eyes up to meet Baz’s. Baz looked away.

“I- I see why you would,” he stuttered, speaking too quick. “She’s hot.” He knew the words were false coming out of his mouth, but he hoped Simon wouldn’t pick up on his hesitance.

“Yeah, she is,” Simon grinned. Baz let out a breath. “But I don’t think I want to hook up with her, at least not yet. We’re barely even friends.”

“Is being friends a prerequisite?” Baz asked as they turned into the parking lot of the hardware store. The building smelled strongly of wood chips and sawdust, and the lettering of the sign was fading. Baz had been inside only once, with Mordelia, to pick up supplies for a birdhouse she wanted to build with Daphne.

Bells tinkled as Simon swung the door open. “Yeah, definitely,” he responded as Baz caught the door with his hand and entered the building. It was colder inside than it was outside, and Baz felt goosebumps prick his arms. “I wouldn’t hook up with someone I didn’t like.”

“Me neither. I’d…” Baz reached out and brushed his finger against the wind chimes hanging by the cash register. “I’d want it to be a good friend.”

Sweat trickled down Simon’s forehead as they stood looking at the finished fence. It was huge, taking up the entire side of the garden, which was the length of Baz’s larger-than-average house. Baz reached up and wiped the sweat off of Simon’s face, then wiped it on his pants.

Simon’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows knitted together. “What?” Baz asked, defensive, tucking his hands in his pockets and taking a step away. “Was that weird?”

“Nah,” Simon said after a minute, his cheeks pink from embarrassment or exertion. Baz couldn’t tell which. He looked down at his shoes, then bent down to readjust the loose laces. “It looks good!” Simon interjected, too loud, waving an arm in the direction of the fence. He was right. It did look good, and they’d done it together. He swallowed his pride and let himself smile.

“Thanks for the help,” he said. He ran one finger across the smooth wood of the fence, then turned back and faced Simon fully. Simon’s light blue tank top had pit stains and a spaghetti stain on the front, and the boy himself smelled like fresh-cut grass and a high school locker room. Baz felt his eyes dragging down to Simon’s neck, to his Adam’s apple, and he shot them back up toward Simon’s face with a frightening urgency. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Sure,” Simon replied, a look Baz couldn’t place crossing his face. “I’ve, uh… gotta get home. For dinner.”

“It’s only five o’clock,” Baz said quietly, but Simon had already turned his back. Baz stared at the fence. The sound of Simon’s retreating footsteps left him feeling empty and alone. Long after the sound had subsided, he stood there, alone, empty, empty, alone. Baz flung the hammer clenched in his fist to the ground, digging the back deep into the grass, and tore into the house.

Tears blurred his vision as he stormed up the porch stairs and flung the door open, not caring if it closed behind him. No one was home, and he was thankful for that as choked sobs escaped unbidden from his throat. He crashed through the halls, knocking down a laundry basket and kicking off one shoe, before reaching the bathroom and locking himself inside before even turning on the light. Simon thought he was a freak. He was a freak.

It was no longer something Baz could ignore, the way he looked at Simon, the way he felt about Simon. He plugged the drain and turned the faucet on as hot as it would go. Steam rose out of the tub. Baz pulled his shirt off by the back of the neck and threw it into a ball in the corner, soon followed by his pants. His reflection mocked him in the mirror. It showed him a sad boy, waifish and dark, greasy-haired and made of sharp pieces. Sharp bones, sharp features, sharp shards of shame burying themselves deep in his skin. His skin was cold. His hands were shaking. He sank into the scalding water, curled up, and cried.

He could do better. He would do better. For Simon– if Baz lost Simon, he’d have nothing left.

part three. sunflower. adoration

The tile of Simon’s bedroom floor was cold. He and Baz sat close, knee to knee, as the movie played in the background. Neither boy paid much attention to the screen. It was The Fox and The Hound, a movie they’d both seen (and cried over) too many times to count.

“If I make more popcorn, will you eat some?” Simon asked, breaking the silence. He shook the empty popcorn bowl in his hand.

“Probably not,” Baz responded, tapping the cool blue glass of the bowl with one finger.

“I’m doing it anyway,” Simon announced, not surprisingly. He got up and exited, leaving the door ajar.

Baz relaxed onto the foot of Simon’s bed, letting his head sag against his chest and his eyes fall shut. He clasped his hands in his lap. This room smelled just like Simon, like cinnamon and boyhood. The edge of a sweatshirt lazily draped over the bed frame tickled the side of Baz’s face. It was homier in here than anywhere in Baz’s whole house.

Baz heard the happy noises of Simon bumbling around in the kitchen just a few rooms over, and he smiled to himself. Simon had never been a graceful person. Baz reached for the remote and turned the volume down so he could hear Simon hum off-key. “Hello my baby, hello my honey…” Simon mumbled, audible in between the crashes and clanks of him moving around.

“Wanna spend the night?” Simon asked when he came back in. The smell of popcorn drifted in with him, and Baz decided he would take a handful or two.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

Simon groaned and sat down on the floor next to Baz, their legs touching from hip to knee. He set the bowl of popcorn on Baz’s lap. The bottom was almost uncomfortably hot, but Baz let him do it anyway. “I don’t understand why you’ve gotta be there at 7 in the goddamn morning anyway.”

“The growing plants all need to be watered very early, and the cut ones need to be misted. I’ve only explained this ten billion times.” Baz let himself enjoy the closeness of Simon’s leg on his for one second more before he shifted away, setting the snack bowl between them. Simon looked at him, then cocked his head.

“Is everything alright, Basil? You’ve been….” he trailed off, then stuck his hand into the bowl. “Nevermind,” he said through a mouthful of popcorn.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve been what?”

“Just distant, I guess.” Simon said after a pause, then swallowed. “Is all the touching weirding you out? My family is just really affectionate. I can stop. I don’t want to freak you out. It’s not like that, I swear.”

“Oh.” Not like that. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind it. Actually, I thought maybe you did.” Baz forced a laugh.

“Really?” Simon asked. His face relaxed. “No, I totally don’t. I.. I like being close to you. You know. I like being close to people.” They looked at each other for a minute. Baz cleared his throat.

“I could hang out after work tomorrow. I’ve been meaning to add something to the garden, and we have these little sunflowers that are begging to be replanted. I thought they’d love the fence we did for the ivy.”

“Oh!” Simon squealed like a child, shooting up and clapping his hands together. Baz laughed aloud at the exaggerated response. “Sunflowers are my absolute favorite. You know flower meanings and stuff, right? From doing bouquets? What do they mean?”

Baz smiled. Simon’s eagerness was contagious. “You actually don’t really need to know flower meanings to put together bouquets. Just what’s appropriate for what occasion. I do happen to know what sunflowers mean from my own personal research, though.”

“What are they?”

“Well,” Baz said, uncrossing his legs and stretching them out, “they have a few meanings. One of them is joy. Loyalty, hope.”

Unnoticed, the movie ended. Simon set the snack bowl down near Baz’s feet and scooted closer to him once again. This time Baz didn’t move. “You’re my best friend, Baz,” Simon whispered, looking at the dirt stains on his jeans.

Baz grabbed Simon’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re mine, too.” Simon looked up at Baz, a small smile on his face.

“Sunflowers have another meaning, you know,” Baz said after a minute, removing his hand from Simon’s shoulder and putting it in his own lap.

“What’s that?”

“Adoration.”

Simon was having another nightmare. Baz could tell.

Summer was coming to a close, things were dying all around them. The sunflowers were taller than both of them now, but the petals were falling fast. This was Simon’s least favorite time of year. Deterioration seeped through the air and into his bones.

He twitched and jerked, wrapping the sheets around himself. Sweat soaked his forehead, tears streamed from his sleeping eyes. He made no sounds. Simon had told Baz before not to worry about his nightmares. Not to wake him up. That he didn’t need comfort.

“Simon,” Baz whispered, sitting up further from where he’d been sleeping on the floor next to the bed. “Simon!” Baz stopped, waited, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Si, you gotta.. You gotta wake up. Come on, it’s alright.” He shook Simon’s shoulder, softly at first, then harder when he got no response.

“Wha-” Simon shot up as quick as a bullet, eyes wild and bloodshot. He grabbed Baz’s wrist, grip tight, and sniffled.

“I’m here, don’t worry. Just a dream. Just a dream.” Baz murmured. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Baz?” Simon asked, his voice cracking. Baz nodded. “Oh. Oh. Don’t, um. Don’t worry. I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

“No, you’re not. I’m going to make you some tea.” Baz moved to get up, but before he could turn his back, Simon’s hand grasped the back of his shirt.

“Don’t wanna be alone,” Simon said, his breath still coming fast and heavy. “Don’t leave.”

“Come with me, then,” Baz replied, leaning down toward Simon and wrapping an arm around his waist. Simon was shirtless, his bare skin sticky and hot. Baz wasn’t the strong one. Simon was always the strong one. Now, though, Simon was as fragile and vulnerable as a child. He leaned into Baz’s touch and sagged like a rag doll. Baz flicked on the bedroom light, but kept the hall light off. “Quiet,” he told Simon. “Let’s not wake up Lucy.”

Simon sat down at the kitchen table while Baz started up the tea kettle at the stove. It was a cute little kettle, green and blue with flowers, that Baz had given Simon and Lucy after theirs broke last year. Daphne had said that it didn’t ‘fit the kitchen theme’. Baz whirled around and grabbed two mugs from the top shelf of the cupboard, then reached in the cupboard above the fridge and retrieved Simon’s favorite tea. He knew this kitchen.

“Honey spoon or sugar?” Baz asked Simon, gesturing toward the wrapped wooden spoons Lucy had picked up at the farmer’s market a while ago. They were covered in honey which melted as you stirred and tied shut with brown ribbon. Simon and Baz sometimes snuck them down and ate them like lollipops.

“Sugar,” Simon responded, his voice thin and weak and tired. Baz got down a honey spoon for himself and finished preparing the tea, taking the kettle off right before it started whistling.

The clink of the glasses on the table seemed to snap Simon out of whatever trance he’d been in. His eyes left the floor and flittled between the tea and Baz. Baz pushed one of the mugs toward him, and he took it gratefully, lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply. The steam felt nice and comforting. “Thank you,” he said, giving Baz a smile.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Baz said, stirring his tea. He shifted a chair so it was facing Simon and sat down. “What was it about?”

“Dad.” Simon said, and that was enough. Davy had been a bad, bad man, and he’d left a long time ago. That was all Baz knew. The look in Simon’s eyes when he was mentioned, the anger in Lucy’s voice, the tension and fear that permeated their house at the slightest thought of him, was all the information Baz needed. Baz put a tentative hand on Simon’s knee.

“He’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Simon murmured. “But he’s always gonna be here. He’s half of me.” An unbidden tear slipped down the side of Simon’s nose, and he brushed it away angrily.

“He is none of you,” Baz said, standing up and wrapping Simon in his arms in one fluid motion. Simon melted into Baz’s touch without a second thought, and he cried. “You’re so good, Simon. He is none of you.”

part four. tulip. declaration of love

That winter brought cold winds and cold hearts. Simon’s hair was long, brushing his shoulders, a halfhearted rebellion against Agatha for breaking his heart. He and Baz shared sweaters. They studied together. They prepared the garden for winter. They sipped hot cocoa on Simon’s porch. Simon came to all of Baz’s football games. Baz ached.

When Baz was little, he’d always dressed up for dinner, but in the years since Malcolm and Daphne had married, the household had softened, bit by bit. He came downstairs now in pajamas. The rest of the Grimm children filed down the stairs behind him and took their places at the table.

“I’ve got something to tell you all,” Baz said, and it was met with blank stares from the kids, and a smile from Daphne. Staring at the empty plate in front of him, Baz said the words he’d never said out loud to anyone but the dark, alone in his room at night. “I’m gay.”

There were questions and there was confusion, but there was still food on the table. Still a kiss on the head from Daphne as she walked around the table to collect plates. A stiff but sweet smile from Malcolm at the end of the night. And when Mordelia came into his room like usual for homework help, she put her papers aside and curled up in Baz’s lap like she was nine rather than thirteen, like she used to a very long time ago.

“Baz?” she asked. Her hair was wet and smelled of green apple shampoo. She wore one of his t-shirts and it drooped almost to her knees. Baz suddenly felt very young. “Are you in love with Simon?”

Baz didn’t flinch at the question. “Yeah,” he said, confiding to his little sister what he could never confide to himself. “I think I am.”

“Thought so,” she said, wriggling off of his lap and giving him a pat on the hand. “I’ve got Algebra tonight, and I sort of want to die.”

“Don’t say that,” Baz laughed, patting the bed beside him. “I know how to do Algebra.”

The bark of the tree in the school’s courtyard was rough on Baz’s back. He had his Botany notes open in front of him and a ham sandwich, half finished, off to his right. Simon was out fake-sick and so he was eating lunch outside, trying to catch up on some missing homework. The day had been uneventful so far, but that changed when he saw Agatha Wellbelove sauntering up toward him.

It was a chilly March day, overcast, and her thin frame was wrapped in a soft-looking white woolen sweater and a chunky blue scarf. She walked with confidence-- she knew how gorgeous she was-- but a sort of meekness, too. Agatha was stunning, but approachable. There was true kindness in her heart. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, gesturing toward the ground next to Baz.

“Go ahead,” he said, moving his backpack over. She sat down cross-legged and leaned her hands on her chin. A strand of blonde hair blew across her face, and she let it stay there.

“You and Simon are together now, no?” she asked. Baz’s pencil slipped from between his fingers.

He cleared his throat. “N- um, no. We aren’t. Why would you ask?”

Agatha tilted her head. “Oh, well. I just thought you might be. You give off a vibe.”

“A vibe?” Baz stammered, more annoyed now than confused. What did she mean a vibe?

“A gay vibe. Are you gay? You’re gay. Am I wrong?”

“Well… no. But it’s none of your goddamn business, and I want nothing to do with your fake gaydar readings of me and Simon. We’re friends, okay? Is that illegal?”

“Of course not,” Agatha laughed, fishing her phone from the pocket of her jeans and typing without looking at the screen. “I’m queer, too, you know. I’m aroace. That’s why I broke up with Simon.”

“Oh.” Baz replied.

“You don’t know what it means, do you?” Baz shook his head, and Agatha smiled. “It means I don’t like anyone romantically or sexually. I do love Simon, though. I was hoping you two were together. He really loves you. I want him to be happy.”

Baz could feel the blush on his cheeks, and he was hoping Agatha wouldn’t notice. “I want him to be happy, too.”

“He always thought you were way prettier than me, by the way. You were all he ever talked about. Baz this, Baz that. It was sort of sweet.” She made a move to stand up, but then turned back. “Listen, Baz.” Now she sounded less forward. “I think… I think that you would have a chance with Simon. If that’s what you wanted.” She put her phone back in her pocket, then stood up. “I just don’t want to see you guys miss out on the romance of the century. We’re all rooting for you.”

The knock on the door startled Baz out of his sleep. “Come in,” he called, confused, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and pulling the covers up to his chin. Who the hell was knocking on his door at- he checked his phone- 6:03 in the morning? The door swung open, and the hallway light was blinding. It took Baz a minute before he made out that it was Simon at the door. In a party hat?

“Happy birthday!” he cried, and only then did Baz remember. He was turning seventeen today. April 19. The sudden sound of a kazoo and a party popper made Baz cover his ears. “You’re seventeen, practically an old man!” Simon plopped down on the bed and sat on Baz’s leg. He didn’t bother to move.

“But I thought you said you’d be out of town?” Baz asked. He shifted so he was sitting up, hyper-aware of the covers falling down to expose his bare shoulders and chest. He didn’t like being shirtless around Simon.

“Of course I did, you dolt,” Simon said with a grin, hooking a finger into the string of the party hat that was wrapped around his chin. “Wouldn’t be much of a surprise party if you were in on it.”

“Surprise party? What about school?”

“Yes, surprise party,” Simon confirmed. He ignored the second question. “So you’d better get dressed. I’ve got things planned. Bring good shoes for walking.” He tossed Baz a matching hat and winked. “Meet you downstairs in five.”

Baz blinked, hard, and struggled to extract himself from the cocoon of blankets he’d made. Good walking shoes? Surprise party? Things planned? He rifled through his closet before slipping on a t-shirt and a red flannel. Did he even have good walking shoes? He sighed and went downstairs.

Simon had gotten a car the month prior, a beat up Ford Focus, and he dragged Baz by the hand across the lawn toward it. “Get in,” he said, hopping into the drivers’ seat and buckling up.

“Where are we going?” Baz asked as Simon pulled out of the driveway. He took a left turn, the way opposite the school. “Don’t you have a Trig test?”

“We’re skipping, duh,” Simon retorted, glancing from the road toward Baz for a minute. His eyes danced with mischief. “And obviously it’s a surprise. Oh, but there’s something for you in the backseat.”

In the backseat of Simon’s dirty, cluttered car sat a delicate looking, pale blue box tied with black ribbon. It was about small, about the size of Baz’s hand. He reached for it, holding it gingerly, and brought it onto his lap. He noticed the lace details etched into the sides of the box. It was so elegant and beautiful that he couldn’t believe Simon had picked it. “Is this from Lucy?”

Simon feigned offense. “Um, no, dumbass. It’s from me. Go on, open it.”

Baz untied the ribbon and tucked it into the front of his shirt, then lifted the top off the box. There was a mess of tissue paper, and then a tiny wooden carving. It was intricate and beautiful, showing two boys-- them, Baz realized-- standing in front of a fence. The wooden Baz held a trowel and the wooden Simon had a hand on his shoulder. The ground underneath them was painted green with dots of blue, yellow, and red flowers. There were even small freckles painted onto Simon’s face. Baz felt tears prick at his eyes. “Did you… did you make this?”

“Not to brag, but it took months. Literal months. I took a wood carving class on Tuesdays in the basement of the university to make this for you. I was surrounded by sixty year old sweaty men. I toiled and sweat over the stripes in that sweater you’re wearing.” Simon’s face was bright red when he turned to Baz. “I’m so, so glad you like it.” Then, in the spur of the moment, he reached over and squeezed Baz’s leg.

Baz’s hand found Simon’s, rested tentatively on top of it, before Simon turned his hand palm-up and laced his fingers in between Baz’s. They fit together so nicely. They shared a smile before Baz, red-cheeked and shaky, took his hand away. “Thank you,” he said, holding in a sob. “Thank you so much.”

It was a long drive. They rolled down the windows and blasted bad pop music, the wind tousling their hair and livening their spirits. Underneath them, the road got worse and worse until the car was bumping along more often than it was going smoothly. The forest got dense and the traffic grew sparse. Baz sang along to Kelly Clarkson until his voice was hoarse, and Simon mimed Bruno Mars impeccably. Finally, the car came to a stop.

The air smelled fresher here. No longer was the sky the dim violet of early morning. Instead, in between branches, it burned bright blue and cloudless. “This is it,” Simon exclaimed, stepping out of the car and stretching his arms above his head. A sliver of his stomach was visible at the bottom of his t-shirt, a tiny pudge and a smattering of freckles. Baz felt his face go hot once again.

“What are we here for?” He asked, following as Simon started up a path that Baz hadn’t noticed before. Everything around them was lush and green. The rocks were covered in soft cushions of moss and overhead was a thick canopy of trees, swaying softly in the breeze, whispering secrets into the air.

“I’m going to take you somewhere my mom took me when I was really little, right after Dad left,” Simon said. “It was the happiest day of my life. And I’ve brought a picnic.” He patted his backpack. “I really think you’ll love it.”

“Is it a far walk?” Baz asked, quickening his pace. He was taller, but he moved languidly, and Simon was already several steps ahead of him.

“Not too far. Two miles, maybe. You’ll be fine. I’ve got waters.” Above them birds chirped, a sweet and happy sound. Baz smiled without realizing it.

A huge clearing stretched out in front of them, covered in thick green grasses and tiny white mayflowers. In the middle was a small, clear pond, fluffy clouds reflected in the gently swirling surface. There was a small bunch of bright-colored tulips on the edge of the pond closest to them. Simon walked toward the tulips and swung his backpack off his shoulder, tugging out a blue blanket that Baz recognized as his comforter. He held back a laugh as Simon spread it down over the ground. “You really brought everything, didn’t you?”

“Did you expect anything less?” Baz sat on the blanket and crossed his legs out in front of him. A lazy bee tumbled out of the tallest tulip and bumbled along for a minute before disappearing into the grass. Simon pulled sodas and sandwiches from his bag, along with a tupperware container of Lucy’s homemade chocolate oatmeal cookies-- Baz’s favorite. Baz popped off the top and took one.

“It’s really lovely here,” he told Simon, brushing the crumbs off his lap. Baz shrugged his flannel off, feeling the sunlight on the back of his neck and his arms.

“It definitely is,” Simon agreed. “We planted those tulips, you know. Me and Mum. And I was thinking about being happy, and thinking about gardens-- of course that sounds just like you.” He snapped the top off a piece of grass and fiddled around with it. “Mom said she wanted to start a new life, right? And what better way to do that than to literally start new life. With the flowers, I mean. And she thought they might die, you know, with us not coming back every day to take care of them. But we came back and they’d grown. And every year they grew back, bigger and bigger, and more and more of them. When we planted them, I ran around in the field and I tried to catch frogs. I was a muddy mess and I ruined the seat of the car. We were both covered in dirt. But Mum was laughing.”

“Thanks for tak-” Baz started, but Simon held up a finger.

“I’m- I’ve gotta. Um. Let me finish. Can you? Sorry.”

“No, no, go ahead. I thought you were done.”

Simon drummed his fingers on his knee. He didn’t meet Baz’s gaze. “That was rude, sorry.”

“It wasn’t,” Baz assured. Simon nodded, head still down.

“I wasn’t that happy again for a while. ‘Til we moved in next door, and I had no friends at this school, and barely any friends at my old school anyway, and I was sure it was going to be just as bad here as it was there. And suddenly this scrawny boy is throwing rocks at my window and he asks me to plant a garden. A new start. Just like here, just like with Mom. And I knew we were going to be close. I knew because I was so happy.” Simon glanced up at Baz through his eyelashes.

“And I was right. And our garden got bigger, just like the tulips.” He reached out brushed his fingers against one of the petals. “It got bigger, and I got happier, and it was all because of you. Because of Mom, too, and because of you. You’re the two people I love most in the world.” Simon looked out toward the lake. His fingers clenched in a fist. “And I do. Love you. I love you. I mean, I love being your friend. I don’t want this to make things weird, you know, if you don’t feel the same way or anything. But… I love you as more than a friend. You’re so funny, and kind, and you’re always there for me. You’re so beautiful, and so smart, and so…. so….” He paused, then swallowed. “You’re everything, Baz. You’re everything to me.”

Baz reached out his hand and touched Simon’s cheek. They met eyes, and Baz felt a beaming smile coming across his face. “I love you too, Simon. I have forever.”

Simon smiled back, blinking away tears, and grabbed onto Baz’s knee, hard, steeling himself. He pressed a kiss to Baz’s forehead, then his cheek. They sat nose to nose, forehead to forehead, eyes closed, just listening to the sounds of spring around them, the scent of tulips blowing freely in the breeze, life flourishing and moving everywhere. Baz leaned forward and kissed Simon, tender and sweet, tucking a strand of curly hair behind Simon’s ear. He smiled into the kiss. This was the way things were supposed to be.

#snowbaz spring extravaganza #snowbaz #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #fanfic #matti writes #spring snowbaz extravaganza #snowbaz extravaganza #fluff #angst #happy ending

112 notes · View notes