#oh well. my actual bank shit is NOT available to them so i think the worse they could do is spam me lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

contemplativepancakes · 4 years

Text

five times geralt saw jaskier naked on accident + one time it was entirely on purpose. ~6k. Read on AO3 here!

“Get back here, you mangy knob!” echoes down the hallway, and Geralt pauses on the way to his room.

It’s been a long night, and Geralt would like nothing better than to collapse into bed, but trouble has a habit of following Jaskier like flies to shit. He’s the whole reason Geralt even has a bed for the night, so Geralt sighs and follows the shouting.

He wishes he could say he’s surprised when he rounds a corner and Jaskier runs head first into him, but honestly, it’s nothing short of expected. What does throw Geralt for a loop, though, is the fact that Jaskier is completely naked, expanses of smooth skin exposed as he sprawls back on the ground in a very undignified manner, clutching his nose.

“Fuck, Geralt!” he cries, but it comes out garbled. “You broke my nose!”

The man who was chasing after Jaskier comes to a sudden halt, panting in front of them. “He slept with my wife!”

Geralt frowns. “Are you sure it was him?”

The man gapes and gestures at Jaskier’s nakedness. Geralt curses Jaskier for being so obvious; it makes his job much more complicated.

“Maybe he can give you some tips on how to satisfy her so she doesn’t feel the need to look elsewhere next time,” Geralt suggests, one hand coming up to casually rest on the hilt of his dagger strapped to his belt.

“It’s all about the tongue,” Jaskier pipes up in a nasally tone, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

The man’s eyes dart from Geralt to Jaskier, and back to Geralt before a look of realization crosses his face and it drains of color. “You’re… the butcher of Blaviken?”

“That’s him! So you’d best get back to your chambers if you want to keep all your limbs!” Jaskier crows, but only half of it is intelligible through the hand he’s holding to his nose.

The man looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but he bites his lip and retreats, after one last withering glance at Jaskier.

Geralt turns to Jaskier, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing. “Will you ever learn?” he asks in exasperation. “I’m not always going to be around to clean up your messes, you know.”

“I’m fairly certain you have a much longer life expectancy than me,” Jaskier lisps, looking up at Geralt with doe eyes.

Geralt sighs and sticks out a hand to help Jaskier up.

Jaskier takes it, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh of Geralt’s forearm, and heaves himself up. His hand stays on Geralt’s arm, and Geralt drags him back to their room.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, rustling around in his pack for a clean rag.

He steps over to the wash basin and dips it in before walking back to over Jaskier. He wipes the blood away from Jaskier’s nose gently, but an observer wouldn’t think so from the way Jaskier winces and groans.

Geralt sighs. “Serves you right.”

“That’s just cruel, Geralt.” Jaskier squirms on the bed, pulling a corner of the blanket over his lap.

Geralt resolutely focuses on his face. He squints at Jaskier’s nose, which is just the slightest bit crooked. “This is going to hurt,” Geralt warns. “One, two.”

Jaskier yelps as Geralt sets his nose back into its proper place, finishing up dabbing the blood away before he packs Jaskier’s nose full of gauze. “There,” he says. “Good as new.”

There are tears welling in Jaskier’s eyes from the pain. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he says weakly.

“Maybe you’ll be able to go more than a week without cuckolding another husband this time.”

Jaskier lets out an indignant snort. “Hey, sometimes I just sleep with the husbands themselves. Then I have to watch what I eat, though,” he blathers on, and Geralt is honestly impressed with the lengths of his chatter even when Geralt imagines it must be painful to speak. “Have sex with one wrong person, and all of a sudden everyone and their mother is trying to poison you.”

Geralt’s not sure how to respond.

Jaskier sighs and turns over in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Try not to drown in your own blood.”

“Always nice to know you care.”

And then, almost too softly for Jaskier to hear, “Good night, Jask.”

ii.

Geralt jerks awake and sits up in his bed roll. The fire is crackling happily, a far cry from the smoldering logs Geralt would have expected. He looks around, and Jaskier is gone. Normally, this would worry him, but if Jaskier took the time to stoke their fire, that probably means he hasn’t been eaten. Most likely.

The slight chance that something untoward has happened propels Geralt out of the warmth of his blankets. He tugs on his boots and follows the faint scent of Jaskier, a warm mix of wood smoke and contentedness, these days.

His nose leads him to the river bank, and he hovers right on the edge of the tree line, scouting for any possible dangers. He doesn’t see any, but as he does his sweep, his gaze catches on Jaskier’s bare back and lingers there. There’s a smattering of freckles that Geralt can just barely make out, until they disappear when Jaskier dunks his hair under the water.

Geralt knows that he should stop just standing here, should either reveal himself or just slink back to their camp and start packing things up, but he finds himself rooted in place as Jaskier rubs a rag over his shoulder blades.

Geralt is half tempted to offer his help in reaching Jaskier’s back, but he knows how that would probably be received.

Geralt is transfixed as Jaskier begins to sing, and he sinks down to sit with his back to a tree to listen. Jaskier is always wanting his opinion on his songs, so surely he’d be fine with this, right?

It's not fair, oh, it's not fair how much I love you

It's not fair, 'cause you make me ache, you bastard

And he'll say

Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

And I'll stand—

Geralt’s jerked out of his trance of listening to Jaskier sing in his honeyed tones by a disturbance in the water, and Geralt focuses in on the ripples that are starting to froth before a drowner emerges, its scaly skin glistening in the morning light. Jaskier screams, and Geralt leaps from his hiding spot, unsheathing his sword.

Jaskier turns to look at the new disturbance with wide eyes, minutely relaxing when he sees it’s Geralt. Geralt jumps into the water, landing on the drowner’s back. It jerks and bucks, deceptively strong as it tries to toss Geralt off. Geralt hooks his hands around its neck, his sword gripped precariously.

The drowner gives one last shake, and Geralt goes flying, his sword falling with a splash. There’s a clawed, webbed hand on Geralt’s head, forcing him under the water. He thrashes, trying to get free, but to no avail. Geralt keeps his mouth tightly shut, and his lungs start to burn as he continues to fight.

Bright spots start to dance at the edge of his vision, getting darker and fuzzier now, and Geralt knows he’s right on the verge of losing consciousness. He’s unable to stop his gasp for air, but only water finds his lungs. He’s resigned himself to this being the way it ends when suddenly the grip goes lax and he’s able to propel himself to the water’s surface, gasping for breath.

“Geralt? Geralt?” comes a worried voice, floaty and distant sounding. “Geralt, are you okay?”

There’s a pounding on his back, and water dribbles from his lips. A litany of curses follow and sharp tugs on his arm that lead him back to the bank.

Geralt coughs and splutters, more water escaping him as he finally registers Jaskier pacing around anxiously... completely naked. Geralt chokes, and Jaskier is there in an instant, a warm hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles.

“You’re okay,” he croons with a gentle pat.

Geralt doesn’t feel okay. He feels like he about died and is seconds away from doing it again via spontaneous combustion at the sight of all Jaskier’s skin on display. Geralt picks a spot on the distance and fixes his gaze on it.

“Good thing you were around,” Jaskier says finally, and Geralt burns in shame at the thought of why exactly he was there.

He’s lucky Jaskier isn’t running away in repulsion, like he would be if he knew the truth.

Jaskier asks him if he’s okay yet again, and Geralt grunts.

“Oh, goody, you’re well enough for monosyllabic conversation. Back to normal, then.”

Geralt grunts again, and Jaskier laughs, a delightful trilling thing.

“Oh, here you go,” Jaskier says, handing Geralt back his sword that’s covered in monster guts and ichor.

Geralt’s eyes do not bug out as the realization hits him. “You… you?”

“Well, it was drowning you! I couldn’t just stand around, now could I?”

“I...suppose not,” Geralt mutters, but in actuality, he can count on one hand the number of times someone’s actually come to his aid while he was fighting a monster. The most he can wish for is someone who won’t recoil as they patch up his wounds later.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting a bit,” Jaskier pauses, “distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly.

“Well, I guess it’s not every day you have a near death experience,” Jaskier muses, “Oh, wait.”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to save your sorry ass so often.” Geralt shoves at him and instantly flushes red as his hand touches Jaskier’s bare skin and he registers again that he’s naked.

“Put on some clothes,” Geralt mumbles, averting his eyes.

There’s a heavy silence as Geralt waits for Jaskier to say something in response, some sort of rib, but nothing comes, just the soft swish of fabric as he gets dressed.

Geralt grits his teeth.

iii.

Geralt trudges down the rocky path, Roach just behind him. The trail from Kaer Morhen is downright treacherous at the best of times and fatal at worst, so Geralt would rather walk than risk Roach making a wrong step and sending them both pitching off a cliff.

Not that that would be entirely unwelcome, after the winter Geralt has just endured. Eskel and Lambert took great pride in elbowing Geralt and making him the butt of their every joke, saying in glee that they could smell the longing drifting off of him.

“Is Geralt in loooove?” Lambert had sang, until Geralt shoved him off his chair to shut him up.

Lambert tumbled to the floor with a clatter of his armor, but he still wore his unbearably smug expression. Eskel had looked at him with soft eyes. “You could have brought them here, you know. I want to know whoever can make you happy.”

“Yeah, we all know how impossible that is for Mr. Melancholy,” Lambert said.

Geralt shakes his head and puts his focus back on putting one foot in front of the other. The other witchers had endlessly pestered him about his plans for the spring, but Geralt hadn’t wanted to tell them. He likes Jaskier being just for him, and he had waited impatiently for the snow to melt in the pass. He was the first to set out, and he valiantly tried to ignore Lambert’s snickers as he left.

Geralt is headed to Oxenfurt. He and Jaskier hadn’t made set plans to meet up, because it normally doesn’t take too long for them to accidentally on purpose run into each other, but this year, Geralt doesn’t want to wait. The winter had stretched out into much longer than normal, with biting cold and piles of snow, so Geralt is more than ready to be warm again.

When the path finally stops twisting and turning, Geralt mounts Roach and picks up their pace a bit. It’s certainly only because he’s eager to sleep in a bed, never mind that he’s been sleeping in one all winter.

Geralt pulls his hood up against the early spring chill and soldiers on.

When Geralt finally arrives, several days and sleepless nights later, it’s just before dawn. Jaskier has always had a proclivity towards nocturnal behavior, with only Geralt’s need to be up and moving at first light tempering it, so Geralt doesn’t think Jaskier will mind the intrusion.

Geralt ties Roach to a hitching post, promising to come back and find her a stable once the sun breaks over the horizon, and then he wanders until streets start to look familiar, and Jaskier’s cozy house comes into view.

Geralt steps up to the door and knocks, and he definitely does not try to tame his hair into some semblance of kempt or get an anxious churning in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Jaskier again. There’s no answer to his knock, so he tries again, but Jaskier still doesn’t materialize. Geralt tries the knob, and to his alarm, it’s unlocked.

His first thought is one of panic—what if something’s wrong? Jaskier wouldn’t just leave his door unlocked; someone could walk right in and steal his lute. Geralt opens the door quietly and creeps through the dark house. There are no immediate signs that there’s anything amiss. There are only three rooms, and Geralt eases the bedroom door open to peek inside. He’s immediately arrested by Jaskier sprawled out naked on his bed.

Geralt takes a hurried step back, but not before his eyes dart all over Jaskier’s body. He’s just taking stock of any new injuries Jaskier might have incurred while Geralt wasn’t around to protect him from the wrath of cuckolded husbands, that’s all. Jaskier looks paler and more gaunt than he was when Geralt left him, but Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of winter.

Geralt retreats slowly, locking the door behind him and resolving to come back when the sun is high in the sky.

Geralt stumbles onto the street, the early morning light making everything washed out as he scuffs his boots along the ground. He meanders back the way he came, deciding he’ll stable Roach and then see about something for breakfast. He hadn’t felt hungry in his haste to get to Jaskier, but now that his enthusiasm has been tempered, he’s starving. He tries to remember the last time he stopped to eat something more substantial than whatever he could pull out of his pack. Two, three, days ago, maybe?

Roach comes into view, pawing her hoof against the dirt impatiently. Geratlt huffs a laugh as he walks closer, untying her reins from the hitch and clicking his tongue as he leads her in a direction that he’s getting a big whiff of horse from.

Geralt leaves Roach at the stables, with his usual stern frown at the stable boy and a chastisement to Roach to be good as she nips at his shirt.

Roach taken care of, he sets off to look for something to eat, wondering if it’s too soon for Jaskier to be up yet. His eyes flicker shut for a moment as he thinks of the Jaskier’s robe, and how if he goes right now and knocks on his door, he might answer wearing that and nothing else.

Although, if he does that, even Jaskier might be able to smell the lust rolling off of him.

Geralt sighs and continues his trudge, until he stops in his tracks and redirects his path. He looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. It’s been long enough. Surely Jaskier is wearing actual clothes by now?

Geralt walks back to Jaskier’s home, the path turning from dirt to cobblestone as he gets closer. There’s a patch of grass peeking between the stones with three orange wildflowers growing in it. Geralt stoops down and picks them without thinking too much about it.

Geralt carries the flowers loosely in one hand down at his side. When he reaches the steps leading up to Jaskier’s door, he pauses to steel himself, to try to prepare himself for if Jaskier’s whole chest is on display in his robe, but he’s interrupted by an obnoxious throat clearing.

Geralt whirls around to glare at the person, but he’s arrested by the sight of a man scowling right back at him. “Hope you’re not planning to bother some nice girl, Witcher. Like anyone would ever want you.”

Geralt glances down at the flowers in his hand, and then back to the man, mouth flapping uselessly. He has a point.

“She’s probably just too scared to tell you to fuck off,” the man sneers, and Geralt’s fingers itch to pull his dagger from his belt, but he restrains himself.

He surreptitiously looks around for a place to drop the flowers. The man is right; this is a terrible idea. What is he hoping to accomplish with this? Just to make Jaskier smile? He’s an idiot.

A door slams open, and then, “Well, I have no such qualms. Fuck off.”

Geralt turns around to see Jaskier—and thank fuck he’s wearing clothes this time, but he’s wearing that ridiculous lavender robe, with his leg jutting out right below where it’s knotted together. Geralt desperately averts his eyes, turning back around to frown at the man, but he’s disappeared.

He looks at Jaskier, then, drinking him in after a winter apart. Jaskier makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat. “For me?” he asks, holding out his hands for the flowers.

Geralt hands them over without comment, but he can’t hide the smallest of smiles as he follows Jaskier into the house, Jaskier chattering away about everything Geralt missed.

And, gods, did he miss a lot.

iv.

When Geralt bolts awake this time, Jaskier is gone again. Geralt would be concerned that just anyone could sneak up on him while he’s sleeping, but he knows his body has started to become in tune with the sound of Jaskier and it no longer deems it necessary to rip him from his sleep for just Jaskier padding around.

Still, Geralt wipes the sleep from his eyes and slowly gets up to start disassembling their camp. Jaskier will be back soon, and then they can be on their way. Geralt casts his eyes to the horizon, noting the first rays of morning peeking over it.

Geralt ambles over to where he had tethered Roach to a tree and scratches his fingertips over her neck. She headbutts his other hand, impatiently waiting for her breakfast. Geralt huffs a laugh.

Geralt has everything packed up and he’s been leaning against a tree impatiently for three minutes when he starts to get worried. Who knows what could be in these woods? There could be any number of things looking to make a meal out of Jaskier.

Geralt paces in a circle around their doused fire. On one hand, Jaskier could be doing something like taking a shit somewhere, but on the other hand, he might be hurt.

Geralt freezes when he hears a faint strangled cry, and his feet are moving even though his mind has barely registered the sound. Geralt crashes through the underbrush, uncaring about how much noise he makes or the thorns that tear against his skin, until he skids to a stop in front of Jaskier. In front of Jaskier, who locks eyes with him while his cock is in his hand and comes with an aborted gasp.

Heat burns up Geralt’s face. “Sorry, I—” he cuts himself off and flees back the way he came.

He berates himself as he walks back to their camp. They haven’t been in a town in over three weeks, why was that not what he expected? In all honesty, that’s why he hadn’t gone after Jaskier immediately, but after he heard him shout all of the thoughts of restraint flew out of his brain. The only thing he could focus on was Jaskier needing help.

Geralt tries not to dwell on the thought of how Jaskier’s cock had looked, flushed and jutting out proudly. Geralt pulls Roach’s brush out of the saddle bag and works her over carefully, making sure every hair is going the same way and helping her shed her thick winter coat.

By the time Jaskier stumbles back, Geralt had thought he had managed to put the incident out of his mind, but the sight of Jaskier proves him wrong. “Ready to go?” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier opens his mouth and shuts it with a click of his teeth. “What are we waiting for?”

Geralt swings himself up onto Roach, and doesn’t let himself look back to make sure Jaskier follows.

Geralt’s eyes crack open as the door to the inn room squeaks. He grunts in displeasure at being disturbed, and then remembers Jaskier is supposed to be with the barmaid and bolts upright. The door is just out of view from the bed, so Geralt eases himself out of bed and picks up the dagger. He creeps to where the wall juts out and then jumps out on the other side, revealing himself.

“Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?” Jaskier laughs nervously, and Geralt sheepishly drops the dagger onto the chair as his eyes widen.

“What is with you and always being naked?” Geralt growls in frustration, trying not to look at the creamy expanse of Jaskier’s skin, marred with freckles instead of scars like Geralt’s.

Jaskier’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

“Nevermind. Just—what is going on?”

“Ah. Right. That. I got…kicked out.”

“Did she have a husband?”

“Um, yes, yes, that’s exactly right. He did not appreciate the soiling of their marital bed.”

Geralt rolls his eyes fondly even as a pang of longing lodges itself right between his ribs. He doesn’t stop to examine it for too long.

Geralt turns his back and slips back over to the bed. The one bed, because he had thought he would be alone tonight. Geralt sighs.

There’s a quiet swish of fabric as Jaskier pulls on some clothes. “That was one of my favorite shirts, and now it’ll probably end up burnt or some other ridiculous thing.”

The doublet in question was a gaudy scarlet thing with obnoxious gold threading and beading sewn into it. The light always caught on it just wrong to shine into Geralt’s eyes and give him a headache. “What a pity.”

Jaskier shoves at his shoulder as he clambers into the bed without a second thought. Geralt swallows hard at the dip of the lumpy mattress, at the body what so close to his all of a sudden. Jaskier’s heartbeat thuds, and a peculiar smell drifts off of him that Geralt can’t quite place.

Geralt turns over so that he’s facing Jaskier. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier buries his face into the pillow. The one pillow, that he tugs away from Geralt. “Nothing,” he says, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“Hmm. Well.” Geralt pauses and tries to think of a way to respond that won’t have Jaskier calling him an emotionless boulder later. “If you want to talk about it, I can listen.”

Jaskier lifts his head up from the pillow to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know that I was speaking to anything other than the wall when I talk to you.”

Geralt yanks the pillow out from under Jaskier and hits him with it. “Shut up.”

+ i.

Jaskier sighs as he unfurls his bedroll. He’s been unleashing heavy sighs about once an hour for the past week, and it’s driving Geralt up the wall. He’s asked Jaskier if everything was all right four separate times now, and Jaskier has brushed him off each time.

“Jaskier, just tell me what’s the matter,” he begs after Jaskier sighs as he returns with water from the stream.

Jaskier plops the bucket down right next to the fire, and some splashes out and douses the small smolder Geralt had got started.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls before Jaskier can even react.

“Fine! You want to know what’s so wrong? It’s you!”

Geralt rears back, blinking rapidly. He wants to make a beeline for Roach and try to get the feeling of Jaskier’s eyes boring into his out of his mind as soon as possible, but he can’t just leave Jaskier high and dry out here all alone. Geralt shakes his head and turns away.

“Wait,” Jaskier’s hand comes around to clamp onto Geralt’s wrist. Geralt nearly shakes him off, but then Jaskier is saying again, “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes cautiously and arches an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

Jaskier rubs the back of his neck. “You know I got kicked out of that room the other night.”

Geralt grunts. “For cuckolding the husband?”

“Well, yes, but not exactly. I lied. There was no husband. Turns out some people aren’t all that impressed when you say the wrong name in the heat of things.”

“Jaskier, what does that have to do with—”

“It’s you, Geralt,” he whispers.

“Oh.”

Geralt is taken aback. He’s never had this happen with a human before. It’s… hard to imagine that a human could see him as anything other than repulsive, something to be tolerated just to part him from his coin.

“And now I see that I’ve made a complete and total mess of things. I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

As Jaskier’s grip on his wrist loosens, Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand instead. “You haven’t made a mess of anything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen before he reaches the hand Geralt isn’t holding up to cup Geralt’s face. Geralt turns his head to nuzzle into Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier leans forward to press his lips to Geralt. Their fingers become untangled as they move on, Jaskier’s coming up to twist in Geralt’s hair, and Geralt’s stroking across Jaskier’s cheek bone.

When they pull away, Jaskier lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Wow. It seems like I could have saved my hand some work while we were on the road.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier’s crudeness.

“Come on, you know that was funny,” Jaskier wheedles into his ear.

Geralt pushes him aside and crouches down to rebuild their fire. “You’re rarely funny.”

Jaskier claps a hand over his chest and splutters. “Okay, still incredibly rude. Nice to know some things never change, I suppose.”

Jaskier huffs and walks away, going over to feed Roach while Geralt attempts to find some kindling that isn’t damp.

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips.

When the fire is roaring once again, Geralt wanders over to where Jaskier is now sitting against a tree.

Geralt sits down beside him. ��I do think you’re funny sometimes,” he admits.

“You’ve already wounded my pride, Geralt; it’s too late.”

“And so if I offered you a… hand, you’d turn me down?”

Jaskier jerks his head up and turns to Geralt. “That is not what I said in any way, shape, or form.”

“Hmm.”

In the end, it doesn’t happen that night, or the day after that. It’s when they’re finally at an inn that Jaskier pounces on him. Geralt has barely shut the door to their room when Jaskier is on him. “I’ve been so patient,” he whines.

Geralt raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Geralt, you’re impossible,” Jaskier huffs in exasperation. “Well, I’m asking now.”

Geralt kisses him, slow and sweet, and Jaskier groans his eagerness into his mouth.

Jaskier’s fingers fumble with the clasps of his armor, until Geralt laughs and takes it off himself. When he turns back around after carefully setting all the pieces on a chair, Jaskier is already naked, and finally, Geralt allows himself to look. He drinks it in, notices the tiny scar Jaskier has on his thigh, rakes his eyes over Jaskier’s chest. He moves closer so he can comb his fingers down the hair between Jaskier’s pecs, and he preens at the attention.

Jaskier reaches down to undo his trousers, and Geralt steps out of them. He takes off his shirt, and sheds his smallclothes, looking back up to see Jaskier staring at him. His soft expression turns into a self satisfied grin as he hums to himself.

“What?” Geralt asks, already sure he doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Nothing. Okay, fine, just—the carpet matches the drapes, is all.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’s a mutation. Do you think I would choose for it to be white? What were you expecting?”

“You’re no fun,” Jaskier pauses. “What color did your hair used to be?”

Geralt stops and thinks. “Brown, probably? I don’t remember.”

Jaskier whistles. “That’s terribly sad. Do you think your childhood would make a good ballad? I bet it would.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt grits out.

“Okay, okay. Insensitive, I apologize.”

Geralt pulls back, but Jaskier winds his arms around his shoulders and keeps him in place. “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing his nose against the delicate skin of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt shudders and lets Jaskier distract him. It’s not like his childhood is something he particularly likes to dwell on, especially when there’s something much better for him to focus on in the form of Jaskier’s swelling cock judging against his hip.

Jaskier presses up close against him, bracketing Geralt against the door and putting his palm flat over Geralt’s heart before he kisses him again.

Geralt lets the sensation wash over him, the pleasant feelings and the vibration that sends a thrumming through his bones. He walks Jaskier back to the bed and lays him out, crawling on top and straddling him.

Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Gods, Geralt. You’re beautiful.”

A hot blush rises to Geralt’s face and he turns away, but Jaskier takes his wrist.

“Don’t mock me,” Geralt mumbles.

“Darling,” Jaskier says, sitting up and taking both of Geralt’s hands in his. “I’m not.”

Geralt doesn’t know how to respond. He looks down at his body, littered with scars, some pink and small and some, long healed, white and wicked looking. “Hmm.”

Jaskier sighs and tugs Geralt in for another kiss, before he maneuvers Geralt so he’s the one laying down. Jaskier works his way down Geralt’s body, lingering on each scar until Geralt squirms uncomfortably beneath him.

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh as he makes it to the soft inside of Geralt’s thighs, and Geralt starts squirming for a different reason. A whine comes from the back of Geralt’s throat as Jaskier continues to ignore his cock, throbbing and painful at this point.

Jaskier finally has pity on him and takes him in hand, making Geralt sigh and his eyes flutter shut. Jaskier jacks him quickly, bringing Geralt to the edge faster than he would like to admit before he backs off and moves his hand. He goes back to tracing Geralt’s scars, his fingertips finding the one that cut through the muscle of his leg and healed jagged and rough.

He hovers over a different one, looking up at Geralt with a question in his eyes. Jaskier’s wheedled most of the stories of his scars out of him, but this one—Geralt huffs. “I tripped over a rock and fell right onto a very pointy root,” he admits.

Jaskier’s lips quirk up into a grin, and Geralt is about to chastise him for laughing when Jaskier directs his attention back to Geralt’s cock.

Geralt gasps as warm heat envelops him, and his hand comes down to tangle in Jaskier’s soft hair. Jaskier’s other hand comes up to stroke the part of Geralt’s shaft not in his mouth and scoots further back to trail his fingertips over Geralt’s balls and ghost over his perineum to his hole.

Geralt shudders at the feeling, and Jaskier pops off of him with a wet sound. “Can I—?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Geralt babbles.

Jaskier disappears for a moment to rummage through his pack, and Geralt tries to slow his pulse. His heart is practically trying to thud out of his chest compared to its normal steady pace, so he sucks in a deep breath through his nose.

Jaskier returns and settles himself between Geralt’s legs. Geralt lets Jaskier position him until his knees are bent and his feet are planted on the bed on either side of Jaskier. Geralt swallows past the lump forming in his throat as a wave of vulnerability crashes down on him.

Jaskier must be able to sense his skittishness, because he takes Geralt’s hand in his and rubs soothing circles into it with his thumb. With his other hand, he rests the pad of his pointer finger against Geralt’s hole until he slips it in, a second finger quickly joining it.

Geralt can feel himself tensing up, but he tries to relax, tries to let himself give in and just be boneless.

Jaskier stretches him out until Geralt whines in anticipation. Jaskier chuckles and pats his clean hand on Geralt’s thigh. “I seem to recall you saying I was the impatient one?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier laughs again. “Fine, fine. I truly don’t understand why people think you’re so frightening.”

Geralt could list a few reasons, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood. He just grunts at Jaskier until he finally shuffles closer to Geralt and presses inside of him.

Geralt’s head thumps back against the mattress as he squeezes his eyes shut, adjusting to the overwhelming fullness and the way the feeling radiates through his stomach.

Are you good?” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt nods, one of his hands finding Jaskier’s and tangling their fingers together, while the other grips the sheets as Jaskier begins to thrust.

He starts out slow, almost too slow for Geralt to bear, each slide dragging inside of him and creating delicious friction while the head of Jaskier’s cock nudges his prostate.

Geralt hums.

“Let me hear you,” Jaskier says into his ear.

Geralt looks off to the side, but Jaskier puts a finger on his chin and tilts his head back. “You’ve never been shy; don’t start now.”

Geralt stays sullenly even quieter than before, deliberately slowing his breathing.

Jaskier laughs at his obstinance. “No performance review for me?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Geralt says breathlessly.

“Who am I to say no to that?” Jaskier asks, and then there’s no more talking for a while, just gasps and moans as Jaskier slams into Geralt at a pace that leaves them both panting.

Finally, Jaskier shudders to his climax and wraps a hand around Geralt’s weeping cock to bring him over the edge with him.

Jaskier slips out of him and collapses onto the bed beside him, draping his leg over Geralt’s thigh, his fingers meandering their way again to the forest of scars that live on Geralt’s skin.

“You’re lovely. Do you believe me yet?”

Geralt gives an unimpressed hum.

“Well, lucky for you, I have the whole rest of my life to make you see reason.”

Geralt likes the sound of that.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ficlet #fanfiction #contemplative writing #5+1 fic

406 notes · View notes

lunarliza · 4 years

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 2: Ping Pong Balls

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

Problem not solved.

You and Sophia eagerly sipped on your smoothies, waiting for the trio to show up to their five-o’clock session the Monday following the party. Alas, they piled through the front door with deflated shoulders.

“Well?” Sophia perked, eyes gleaming, “How’d it go? Did you make him cry?! Please don’t spare any details!” Her palms clasped together in front of her like a kid who just came up with an evil-genius plan.

“Tell them what happened,” Annalise ordered Arabella, clocking the fiery-haired girl’s shoulder.

Arabella sighed dejectedly. “Well... not exactly. So I went to the party, hoe clothes on and everything like we planned. Saw him, used my signature look and look away move, and it worked! He came over and we started talking and-”

“She fucked him,” Maia finished bluntly, prompting a betrayed gasp from Sophia and face-palm from you.

“Mhm,” Annalise added, “He whisked her away before me or Maia could get the chance to interfere.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Arabella cried, covering her face in mortification, “He was just so... smooth and sweet. And those eyes! We started talking about sea turtles! You guys know they are my weakness.”

You couldn’t help look on your face. Arabella was sweet, no doubt, but boy, the girl sure was spineless. It was a good thing she was pretty.

“He is the devil!” Sophia enunciated each word of her sentence and huffed. “This is going to be harder than I thought!”

“We just need someone stronger! Someone with a heart of steel unlike this one,” Annalise added, smacking her friend on the back.

“We could give it another go,” you agreed, “but who’d be our guinea pig now?”

You pondered at the ceiling until you felt all four pairs of eyes practically stab at you. It was like jumping into a vulture’s nest.

“Oh no, not me!”

“Why not?” Maia questioned, frustrated. “You’re the only available one left. Plus, you couldn’t give two shits about him. It’ll be like busy work to you.”

“Yeah not gonna happen. Find someone else, please. This is non-negotiable.”

Out of nowhere, Sophia seized your hand and tugged you into the back room of the shop. “Excuse us for a minute,” she said to the girls before shutting the door of the crammed space.

It was a good thing your supervisor left early for the day, your asses would be toast if he were to witness the scene.

“I think you should do it,” your best friend urged.

“Have you lost your mind?!” you yelled-whispered.

“Oh come on, y/n! Do it for me. For Annalise. No! Do it for all the girls on this island who has ever shed a single tear for him!”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t do it, Soph. I’m sorry. He’s terrible and Karma has her kiss for him, but not me. Also, you know how I feel about those parties at the Boneyard.” Your look grew to one of disgust.

“Mhm,” she crossed her arms, “This wouldn’t be because of Pope would it?”

“No!”

Yes. It absolutely was.

So you might’ve maybe use to have a teensy tiny little crush on Pope Heyward-one of JJ’s best friends. It wasn’t your fault he was so cute and smart... and respectful!

The boy stole your heart and ran away with it when you were paired up for science lab sophomore year. Him, being the genius he was, always did the experiments so gracefully while you royalty fucked everything up.

One day, you poured the wrong solution into the beaker and the goopy liquid exploded everywhere. However, without an ounce of complaint, Pope offered to stay after with you to scrub down the walls and tables. A modern day romance if there ever was one.

After months of daydreaming about him, you finally worked up the courage to ask him to the end-of-year dance. Sophia and your other friends hyped you up as you approached his locker after school.

Much to you dismay, he said no. But he did it in such a nice way, you couldn’t hate him for it. If anything, it made you hurt even more that you got rejected so kindly. Ever since then, you never stepped foot near him or his friends, too humiliated to even think of it.

“You’re a terrible liar, y/n,” Sophia stated.

She then grabbed onto your shoulders to stare you straight in the eyes. “Look, I know you swore never to see Pope again, but, honestly, fuck him! He missed out on a kick-ass date. But think- you could kill two birds with one stone! Go to the Boneyard, look hot as fuck, dance on JJ a bit and then vamoose! Pope’s jealous and JJ gets a bite in the ass!”

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. Leave it to Sophia to convince you into her petty ploys. “I don’t know...”

She persisted further. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I knew you’d be super jealous, but my cousin got me front row to Venus Panic in Charlotte at the end of the summer.”

Your eyes jolted out of your head. “No fucking way!”

You loved Venus Panic with a dying passion. They were your favorite band who never ever came to the U.S.

Sophia let out a long breath. “Yes. If you do this, y/n, the ticket,” she paused, “the ticket is yours.”

It was like pulling teeth from her to make that kind of offer. Damn her for being so conniving!

“Alright. For Venus, I’ll do it.”

“Thank the gods!” Sophia leaped up and down in the confined room, hugging you and thanking you a ga-zillion times.

She looked as if she sealed a million dollar deal when you two emerged from the room. You, on the other hand, were ready to fling yourself to the seagulls.

“Operation JJ Maybank must die is a go girls!” she announced before the group started frolicking up and down, earning stares from people looking through the glass.

“Alright, alright,” you said as they settled down, “Now that we have that done, can we please actually surf now?”

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

The night of the next Boneyard party, you and Sophia drove to the condo the girls were staying at. Pulling up to the building, both yours and Sophia’s eyes widened. You knew the complex was on Figure Eight, but you didn’t know it was that luxurious and huge. They even had valet at the front, and you were greeted by doorman on your way in.

Apparently Annalise’s dad was an important rich man in Virginia. He remarried, and was currently honeymooning in some exotic island. Sending his condolences, he let her choose whichever one of his condos she wanted to stay at for the summer with friends. For some unknown reason, she chose the Outer Banks.

“Party’s here!” Sophia sang when Arabella answered the door.

You entered into the spacious unit, in awe. The endless kitchen was lined with white Italian wood while the counters were topped with the fanciest marble you had ever seen. The living room was the size of your house with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the island. And the view was spectacular.

So this was how the other side lived.

Maia and Annalise squealed when they emerged from their rooms and hugged you and Sophia hello. They had on silk robes with their hair up in rollers. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show had nothing on them.

They handed you two some seltzers from the fridge before Maia dragged you to the gigantic vanity in her room. Eyeshadow palettes, brushes, and compact powders littered the surface. She sat you down and fiddled with the ends of your hair.

“So, y/n, what kind of look do you wanna go for tonight?”

You were taken aback. “I’m not sure. Maybe something natural since we’re gonna be outside?”��

Maia scoffed playfully and shook her head. “Y/n, it’s a party! If you’re not glamming you’re not scamming. Actually say no more! I know exactly what we’re gonna do.”

And so, she worked her magic as you watched through the bulb-lined mirror. You asked her about the products she was using while she gave you the rundown of the importance of each item and step. She was very knowledgable and swift with her hand- especially when it came to the winged liner.

You got along with Maia. You learned that she had a successful makeup channel and wanted to start her own brand one day. She also told you about her boyfriend and how he was in Thailand for the entire summer.

After two hours of searching for lost lip glosses, waiting on Annalise to change for the tenth time, and chugging your fifth seltzer, the five of you finally made it to the Boneyard at its peak hour.

Linking arms, you all strutted down the beach, ready for your mission.

The four scattered when you reached the sea of people, leaving you to locate the blonde target. After a few minutes of searching, you couldn’t find a single trace of him or any of his friends.

Heading over to the keg, you poured yourself a drink in hopes it would loosen your raging nerves. It also didn’t help that Maia’s bikini top was hardly covering your nipples. You knew a nip slip was just waiting to happen at some point in the night.

You casually sipped your drink and circled the party again, catching a glimpse of the wavy-haired boy at the beer pong area.

JJ slammed his fists on the table after landing another shot.

“Fuck yes! One last shot and your ass is grass!” he belted to his competitors: two random tourist boys who were chugging at a ridiculously slow pace. JJ then proceeded to high-five his friend, John B, who you also recognize from school.

“Don’t be a coward,” you muttered to yourself before striding to the crowd clamoring around a fold-out table.

From the sides, you attempted a few of the “flirty glances” Arabella taught you but no luck. The boy would much rather bounce a ping-pong ball.

You resorted to crossing your arms and waiting for the game to be over. With no surprise, JJ and John B won as the tourons groaned and withered away to the bonfire.

“That’s right baby! Undefeated!” JJ gloated with his hands smugly flung in the air.

“Alright who’s next?” John B shouted, earning no response from the herd.

Welp... it’s now or never.

“I’ll play,” you volunteered and stuck your hand up. You could feel JJ staring at you quizzically.

“Alright, alright we have a challenger! But who’s your partner?” John B asked. You wanted to slap yourself for not thinking this through properly.

“I’ll do it,” a deep voice spoke behind you. You whirled around to meet eyes with none other than Pope. He stood cooly behind you with a beer in hand.

You originally planned to avoid him at all costs during the party. But that all went down the drain as he set down his drink and started ordering the cups in a pyramid formation.

“You’re going down Heyward!” JJ hollered, taking the first shot. The ball glided into the first cup with ease. John B’s shot followed, but bounced off to the side.

Your partner grabbed the beer and hurled it down instantly, using his wrist to wipe his mouth. You snatched the fallen ball on the ground while Pope nodded for you to go first.

So this might have been the first time you’ve every played beer pong in your life. But, in your defense, you’ve done it a million times on your phone. It couldn’t be that hard.

You tossed the first shot and it wheezed over all the cups. Whoops.

“This is too easy,” JJ jeered, eyeing Pope as he made the next throw. It landed in one of the back cups and John B swallowed the contents down.

“Sorry, I’m just off my game today,” you mumbled to your partner.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You wanna know my trick?” Pope raised as another one of JJ’s balls flew into one of your cups. You raised your brows as he handed you the beer.

“The more drunk you are, the better you play.”

Guzzling down the liquid luck, you fingered another ball and took your aim. Flinging it towards the mass, you gasped when it actually landed into the center cup.

“Oh my God!” you cheered as Pope’s face mimicked yours. He high-fived you with both hands as you bounced up and down in glee.

“That’s what I’m talking about y/n!”

For the rest of the game you and Pope played neck-and-neck with the other two, continuously making shots and chugging down beer. His tactic worked. You were on fire.

The flock around you chanted your name every time you scored. You could see your friends hanging around in the far corner hollering your name and sending you thumbs ups.

It was game point as both teams had one target left. It was their turn. JJ took the stage, chucking the ball skillfully. Much to your demise, it swirled along the rim before plopping in. JJ roared out in victory.

“Hold your horses,” Pope interjected with a finger in the air, “We still have redemption.”

“Let’s see it then,” John B panted, worn out from the tension.

“You got this.” Pope patted you on the back and handed you the ball.

Your eyes bursted. “W-What? No no no, Pope you go.”

“Relax, y/n! I believe in you. Just focus.”

You gulped and turned to the boys taunting you across the table. Saying the quickest Hail Mary in your head, you launched the ball and had to shut your eyes.

A sudden rush of shrieks alarmed you. Peeling your eyes open, you saw both JJ and John B’s jaws plummet to the ground.

It went in.

“Now that’s what the fuck is up!” Pope hurled his fist at this chest. You were frozen in utter disbelief. Maybe the Gods were in your favor.

Pope added two more cups to your side of the table as John B copied his actions. The four of you went at it a few more times before you were one-and-one again. Both John B and JJ missed and the balls rolled back over to you.

Taking the first shot again, you slung the ball, but it flew off the rim. You were chattering on your nails as Pope proceeded to make his attempt.

One swish and the ball landed straight in the hole.

You both jolted up in the air, doing a little victory dance. JJ shushed you- ready to go for his redemption kill. His ball missed the cup by a hair and John B’s slid off the table, deeming you and Pope the winners.

In your exhilarated drunken state, you threw your arms around Pope, and he let out a soft chuckle. You hastily pulled away after you realized what you were doing. Thankfully, the crestfallen losers immediately came over to shake your hands and say “Good game.”

JJ’s hands hung onto yours a moment longer. He studied you with his eyes before treading away towards the bonfire.

As winners, you and Pope stayed a few more rounds before getting beat out. You noticed JJ come back to watch you for a few rounds, eyes fixated on your every move.

After shaking hands with the girls who beat you, you waved a confused Pope goodbye and jogged over towards the drink area for water. In the corner of your eye, you saw JJ hurry up to you with giddiness.

“That was some game you played out there,” he complimented as you swigged down your water.

“Thanks! Guess I just got lucky back there.”

He leaned both arms on the table, raising his brows suggestively. “Might just be your lucky night then.”

Oh brother.

You threw him an uneasy smile and treaded away to the dancing crowd. Of course, he followed you, struggling to keep up with your pace.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’ve never seen you around before.”

You scoffed low enough to where he couldn’t hear. Never seen you? You’ve been in the same classes since second grade.

“I’m y/n.” You slowed down a bit, remembering your sworn duty.

“Well I’m JJ. JJ Maybank.” He flashed you a toothy smile.

You stopped amidst the dancers as a popular, high-beat electronic song came on. You flung you hands around JJ’s neck and pulled him close. “Dance with me, JJ Maybank.”

The two of you rocked back and forth for a while before the music transitioned to a provocative rap song. Both you and the light-haired boy rapped the entire first verse with ease, giggling once the chorus hit.

“So... how come I’ve never seen you at one of these parties?”

You shrugged tossing him a look of disinterest. “Not really my thing.”

He tugged you in so his forehead was on yours. “Then what is your thing then, hm? What’s a cute girl like you up to all summer?”

“I’m a surfing instructor.”

“Is that so? You know, I’m a pretty good surfer myself...” His hands traced down to your swaying hips.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you retorted, running your hands up and down his biceps flirtatiously.

It was probably the alcohol doing all the work, because in that moment, you knew you were being absolutely irresistible to the boy who’s hands were burning to stay in the... respectful areas.

“Maybe one day I can show you,” JJ rasped. You barely heard him through the booming of the speakers, but still locked eyes with him alluringly.

“Mmm, don’t really have time for amateurs.”

“Ouch... feisty aren’t we?” His lips were millimeters from yours.

“Please, you know you like it.” You decided to close the gap.

Boy, were his lips soft. His chiseled hands made way to tangle up in your hair as he expertly kissed you amongst the throng of people. He slid his tongue into your mouth, and you could feel how hungry he was.

You stopped after a minute, purposely cutting it short. His eyes were aching for more, but you refused. You wanted to starve him.

“Wanna get out of here? There’s a cool place on the beach I can show you,” he asked, fingers toying with the back string of your bikini.

You shrugged. “Why not.”

Smirking, JJ’s hand snaked around your waist as he led you to the back trees of the Boneyard. You approached a small patch of sand enclosed by a circle of trees, and it all clicked in your head. This was his sex hideout.

You glanced around the spot. The moon beamed straight into it, and the leaves of the trees hung down fancifully. In its own weird way, it was kind of romantic- if you didn’t think about how many times he’s taken people there to fuck.

He tugged you towards the center, wrapping you in his muscular arms.

“You’re the cutest girl I’ve ever seen. I could just eat you up,” he muttered seductively, nipping at the sides of your jawline.

You were beginning to understand it now- his irresistibility. The guy was charming. You let him kiss you for a little bit until you felt him undo your back bikini string.

You quickly jerked away, tying it back into a bow.

“You know what, I think I’m good,” you said abruptly, backing away.

JJ looked as if someone offered a kid ice cream and knocked the cone off the second he was about to dive in for the first taste. “Wait! Where are you going?” he urged.

“Away.”

His face flooded in disbelief as he let out a loud scoff, darting after you as you jogged back to the dancing pack.

“Wait! Y/n come back!” he called out.

“What for? I’m not sleeping with you JJ!” you shouted, making sure everyone around you heard.

When his face went beet-red you knew you work was done.

You sped up the sand, out of sight, to Annalise’s car where your friends were circled. They whooped and cheered at your presence.

“We saw everything!” Maia exclaimed, hauling you in for a bone-tight hug.

“That was so awesome! Y/n, you’re my hero!” Arabella chimed in while you all crammed into the Mercedes.

“Ladies, ladies,” Annalise began before pulling out of the parking lot, “Tonight we celebrate the fall of JJ Maybank!”

The car erupted in drunk glee as everyone swaddled you from their seats.

As you drove back to the condo, Sophia rolled down her window from the backseat and stuck out her head.

“Fuck you JJ Maybank!”

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

note: dw there is even more D R A M A to come lolz

chapter 3

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #john b obx #john b #john b imagine

428 notes · View notes

eddiemunsonssoulmate · 4 years

Text

Can you save me from this nothing I've become?

Pairing: Kook!JJ x Pogue!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Life Swap AU. JJ grew up as a sheltered boy in a golden cage in Figure Eight and doesn’t even have a clue how life in the Cut is like. That is until he meets you, the perfect example for life in an abusive household drowning in poverty.

Warnings: A little bit of sadness, mentions of abuse, mostly fluffy tho

Available on: AO3

A/N: @outabanks asked me to write this for her so I tried. It’s a little different from anything else I’ve written so far and it was quite hard to find a tone for JJ now that he didn’t grow up in a physical abusive home and probably wouldn’t react with so much violence. I went with him feeling trapped, lonely and just sad inside due to him more suffering from emotional abuse. Also, switching POVs! Have fun!

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

“Yes, Charlotte, I make sure to pick out my best outfit.” JJ groaned at his stepmother and went to his own bathroom to take a shower.

She was really annoying sometimes but after his mother and father divorced, he had been quick to replace her to maintain the image, dragging his mother’s name through mud in the process.

Figure Eight was a place where you grew up comfortably and never had to worry about a thing, at least on the outside.

JJ had grown up as the typical rich kid, getting everything he wanted. Problem was, he had been showered with money, not love, meaning he was missing what was most important. Back when his mother was still here, she had been the only person to show him what life really meant but she hadn’t been around for too long. Actually, he never got to know why she had left.

When Charlotte had married his father, it got even worse. Money here, fancy clothes there. She had never been a mother to him, she also never even tried as she wasn’t interested in him and only the money his dad had.

Whatever, he didn’t care about her either, he just wished she would leave him in peace once in a while but whenever he planned to go outside and do something she always came running and told him how to dress so he would look the best.

Tomorrow was another charity event and she had been stressing about the right clothes for weeks and he wouldn’t have any of it.

JJ got out of the shower with a sigh, towel around his waist and hair still dripping a little on the floor beneath him. He knew he had a good life, technically but sometimes he wondered how it felt to be a normal kid, growing up downtown or the Cut. He had never been down there actually, only heard that people from the Cut were poor but in comparison to the people from Figure Eight, poor couldn’t be too bad, right?

The reason he had never been down there was his father. He might look like the perfect father on the outside but on the inside, he was rotting away, fueled by his addiction for money and a wealthy lifestyle. One wrong step and JJ would suffer, in either emotional and very rarely physical way.

He was trapped in a golden cage he couldn’t escape until he was old enough which would still take a few more years. He just had to hold on, pretend to like his life when they were in public and just be done with it.

“We’re off then, son. See you tomorrow!” his father yelled from downstairs as JJ got dressed in some loser clothes so he could enjoy his time home alone.

“Yeah, have fun,” he said nonchalantly, not really caring about them leaving to visit the Cameron’s to talk about some preparations for tomorrow.

When he heard the front door shut he let out a sigh of relief and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. They wouldn’t be back until past midnight, that’s always how it went.

It was the perfect time to think about how lonely he actually was. His parents divorced, his mother not even calling or writing him, his dad only caring about money and his new wife. Friends? Sadly none. Kook Academy wasn’t the place where he wanted to be and he had a hard time blending in. It was a place where everyone was so narcissistic and wanted to show off all they had. Also really competitive people. Who had the bigger car, who had the more expensive outfit, things like that.

The only person he rarely talked to at events was Kiara, a wealthy girl from the neighborhood next to his own. He heard that she was hanging around with the Pogues in the Cut but he never asked her about it. They mostly just saw each other, nodded briefly and started drinking together. He listened to her rambling about saving turtles in a drunken state later on while he made flirty comments she always shut down very quickly. It was a simple way to pass the time while trying to get through the evening.

His father told him to befriend the Cameron’s but to be honest? No. Wheezie was just a little girl, Sarah was the princess around here and he had no desire to walk around with royalty and get judged by only that. Rafe was a dick, he had actually tried to befriend him when they were younger but that boy had massive issues.

So yep, loneliness it was. On the outside, his life was perfect but on the inside he was struggling. One day he would escape, go to the mainland and do his own thing. He wanted to get far away from Outer Banks and his father, all these riches he had. There was enough money on his own bank account to help him get started but JJ wanted to work with his own hands, get dirty, live the life he wanted.

Suddenly he heard a crash in the front yard and he shot up from his bed, opening the door to his balcony and looked outside, trying to see something in the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to get used to the missing light before he scanned the garden. A vase was shattered to the left and to the right…

Shit!

Someone was face down in their pool and it looked like they weren’t moving.

JJ rushed downstairs and to the garden, quickly jumping in to get the person out. He put the body down next to the pool, slapping the cheek slightly. Luckily enough he had been quick enough and the person was waking up, spitting out a little bit of water.

“I don't think it’s the best time to take a swim,” he said while he sat there on his knees, looking over at the girl that couldn’t be older than he was.

She wasn’t answering, just looking at him for a moment before closing her eyes again, passing out once more.

When you woke up, you had no idea where you were. The bed under you felt softer than your own and you had a huge headache. Also, you were wearing comfortable clothes for some reason. Still a dream? Maybe.

You slowly opened your eyes, afraid that feeling of warmth would be gone now but it didn’t vanish. As you were looking around you noticed a boy on the ground, wrapped in a blanket and you blinked.

Looking down at your body told you that you were totally not wearing your own clothes. These were really fine and soft, it almost felt like they were giving you a warm hug.

It took awhile for you to connect the dots but then your face turned white. The boy on the ground had seen you naked.

“Perv!” you suddenly yelled and threw the pillow behind you at him which caused him to stir.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled and got up and for the first time, you got a good look at these blue eyes and the messy, blonde bed hair. “This is what I get for saving your ass?”

Saving your ass? You frowned and now that you thought about it, you had no idea what had happened last night after you ran away from home. You knew you had been drinking to try and stop the pain but then it all went black.

“What do you mean?” you asked and tilted your head a little to the side like a lost puppy.

“Apparently you were either really fond of having a swim or trying to drown yourself in my pool,” he said while he got up, stretching and showing off his body to you. Of course he was not wearing a shirt, why would he. It was too hot for that anyway. He was too hot. Shit, focus!

“I wasn’t drowning myself,” you said even though you wished that had worked.

Silence fell over you for a moment while he just stood there, looking at your miserable form before he rubbed the back of his neck and looked clearly uncomfortable.

“Look, I’ve seen the bruises…,” he started and you looked back at him, clenching your jaw. Of course he had seen the bruises, he had seen you naked and they were quite visible all over your body.

“It’s nothing. Where are my clothes? I want to leave.” You didn’t want to stay here and talk to a stranger that apparently saved you from drowning. Oh. That was probably why you were wearing different clothes, he had taken care of them so you wouldn’t get a cold. Well, not exactly the first thought you had but thank god you still had your virginity.

“Do you need help?” he asked softly and crouched in front the bed which caused you to frown. No one had ever asked you that. It took a long moment before you shook your head.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You nodded and got out of bed which made him stand up again. He was taller than you were and you bit your bottom lip while looking around in his room some more. This was clearly not the Cut. This looked like a Figure Eight house. Oh god, had you wandered that far?

“Can I make you breakfast at least? My parents are still asleep,” he said and you chewed on your lip a little before you nodded. Your stomach was dying inside as you hadn't eaten in two days because your aunt prefered to let you starve while she spent all her money on alcohol and drugs. You wished your parents were still alive but that wasn’t an option.

“Alright, wait here, I’ll bring you some up.” With that he was already gone and you went back under the soft blanket. If you would stand up more your head was probably going to explode and you would fall due to it’s spinning non stop. Laying down was good. Sitting upright a little was good too.

You had never seen this boy before which wasn’t a surprise given that you had been to Figure Eight only one or two times with Kiara. The Pogues were the only reason to get out of bed in the morning but currently, they were all doing their own thing which was fine but also made you sad a little.

The blonde boy was up quicker than you thought and he put the tray down on your legs with a smile.

“I’m JJ, by the way,” he said as he grabbed the chair from his desk and rolled it over, taking one of the plates from the try to put some food on it.

You blinked at all the food in front of you and you were sure you hadn’t seen that many at once, at least not something you were allowed to eat. Bread buns, scrambled egg, different kinds of sausages and grapes. He must have noticed how skinny you were.

“I’m (y/n),” you simply said while staring at the food, not even sure if you could eat but when you looked at him eating and he smiled at you, you couldn’t stop yourself.

It was a feast for you. Did he always have breakfasts like that? God, what a lucky person.

“Nice to meet you, (y/n). Wanna tell me now why you were swimming in my pool at midnight?” he asked and grinned a little. He wanted to get details but he didn’t want to completely ruin the mood, something you could appreciate.

You didn’t know him and you weren’t easily trusting a person but he saved you, made you breakfast and you would probably never see him again, so you kinda owed him, right? Also he had already seen the bruises and given all the books he had in his room, he seemed to be a smart boy that had figured it all out on his own already.

“I was trying to get away from life,” you mumbled with your mouth full and he raised an eyebrow at that. “Got beat up, didn’t eat for two days, ran away to drink the pain away and then it went all black but it seems like I wanted to get a look at a life I’ll never have and then I somehow ended up in your pool. I wasn’t trying to drown myself, I promise.”

Well, the mood he had been trying to maintain was totally ruined by your words now. You spoke them so casually like they were no big deal but you saw how his eyes widened and he stopped eating while you still continued. Yes, your life was pure shit but it would be okay one day. One day you’d get out of your aunt’s death grip and get the life you deserved.

“I-,” he started but didn’t seem to be able to finish so you waved off.

“It’s fine. It happens. Something you can’t understand, no offense.” He was living a good life full of privileges and riches, of course he wouldn’t understand what you went through and that was okay. You didn’t want his pity, he didn’t seem to care about people at the Cut anyway.

“I might not understand your life but you obviously don’t understand my life either,” he chuckled and took some grapes to eat. You raised both eyebrows at him, what did he mean? Apparently he could read the face you were making and continued. “Life here isn’t all that great either. I may not suffer from a lot of physical abuse but emotional one. Being rich isn’t always good, ya know.”

“I’d kill for being rich,” you blurted out and it made him laugh. He had a beautiful laugh but it also sounded really sad for some reason.

“Yeah, that’s probably how a lot of people here became rich.” That made you laugh too, he was probably right. You knew a few Kooks that looked like they had killed for their wealth.

You both ate in silence and when you were done, he put the tray away to look at you with a look that you couldn’t quite place.

“Where are my clothes?” you asked to break the stare and he nodded.

“I’ll get them, one second,” he said and walked over into a room which was...his bathroom? God, he even had his own bathroom. What the fuck.

JJ came out with them again and they looked so much cleaner than before. “Did you wash them?” you asked because it didn’t look like it was just the pool water.

“Yeah, they looked like they needed it,” he said and put them over the bed. When you grabbed them you felt how soft they were now after the cleaning and you smiled a little to yourself. They also smelled really good.

You got out of the bed and pressed past him into the bathroom so you could get changed. When you came out of it again you felt old and new at the same time. Thankfully, the headache was slowly fading away.

“Alright, thanks for saving me, I’ll be off then,” you exclaimed as you had occupied him enough now. He already knew more about you than a stranger should and you had to get out of here before he tried to play your savior.

You had already a hand at the doorknob when he reached out to you, grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving. Of course he had to do that.

“I know this isn’t any of my business but if you ever need help, come here, okay? I’ll try my best,” he said and normally you would huff at such an offer as you had been disappointed so many times in your life but for some reason, he sounded so absolutely genuine that you nodded. You believed him but you also had no desire to get back here any time soon. Figure Eight wasn’t the place you wanted to be, it only reminded you of what could have been but wasn’t.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he let go of you.

Two weeks had passed and he couldn’t get the girl out of his head. There had been something that made him want to save her even though she seemed to be the kind of girl that didn’t want saving.

Something deep inside of him was screaming at him to find you and that’s exactly what he did right now. His father would kill him but he didn’t care anymore. It was like there was a strange bond that was pulling him closer to you and away from the life he didn’t want.

The Cut was different than he had expected. During his sheltered life, downtown had been the only area he had visited, it was almost like an invisible wall that his father had placed here, not allowing him to go any further. As a kid he had been curious about it but after a while of useless attempts to convince his father he had given up on getting to know the rest of the island.

He couldn’t say why he didn’t try again now that he was older. Maybe he really wasn’t interested anymore after all those years. Maybe it was his father’s voice that was echoing in his head the closer he got to that invisible wall.

Until he broke through it. He drove past that magical line that had kept him and suddenly he saw what was really going on. They weren’t just a little less fortunate than the people from Figure Eight. His dad had lied to him and he felt sick for a moment.

He drove past small shacks, some looking like they would get blown away by the next storm. They were just poor and lived in poverty. Well, maybe not all of them but the further he drove away from the downtown area the more sad and wild it looked around him. There was also a strange feeling of freedom to it, he couldn’t really describe it.

Figure Eight was all beautiful houses and big mansions, perfectly cut grass, cars and pools. Everything had to be perfect but this? Lots of people didn’t care about their grass, he saw some old cars and trucks, some people had a small boat but nothing compared to the yacht his father owned. It was so different and he hated himself for never coming here. When did he become such an ignorant person?

Something suddenly jumped out of the bushes to the right and he hit the breaks, barely stopping in front of the person who was standing right in front of his car, looking straight at him.

“What the fuck?!” the girl yelled and he would always recognize that voice, it had almost burned into his soul. She was so different from everything he knew. Looks like the string that was pulling him had reached its destination.

Great, now some idiot tried to run you over while you were busy running away from Barry. This couldn’t get any worse. You were about to keep running when you saw who got out of the car. It was the blonde pretty boy with the sad eyes from Figure Eight that you kept dreaming about for the last two weeks. A wink of destiny? Either way, it looked like he was your escape.

JJ got out of the car and smiled at you, slowly coming over to you, probably wanting to make sure you were okay but he barely scraped you.

“JJ?” you asked in disbelief and he chuckled a little. It was weird to see him here, out of place, so far away from home.

“If I wouldn’t know any better I’d say you tried to get him by a car this time,” he said and laughed when he saw you glare. You really didn’t have time for this bullshit. Yes, being dead would be better sometimes given your circumstances but right now you’d prefer to prevent that.

You threw a look behind you and then back at him. “In the car,” you hissed and shoved him back to his side of the car while you got in on the other side.

“Drive,” you said and looked out to the right side where you had been coming from but he looked at you confused.

Barry came out of the bushes and you turned around to JJ in a split second, pressing your lips against his, hoping to make Barry think that it was just a rich couple that came down here to make out. He wasn’t the brightest candle on the cake after all.

When you saw him leave out of the corner of your eye you sighed into the kiss but only slowly moved away. JJ’s lips felt good, pressed against yours like it was the only thing he had ever wanted.

Reality hit and you pulled back, swallowing slightly. “Sorry uhm...just needed to distract that guy,” you mumbled and licked your lips, still tasting him.

“What was that about?” he asked and seemed a little dumbfounded by the sudden kiss.

“I was running from our local drug dealer,” you explained like it was the most normal thing to do. Maybe you had stolen him some money but you only wanted food and you knew where he stored it so you might as well just borrow it. For a very long time.

“You could have just hidden on the backseat, you know,” he teased and wiggled his eyebrows which caused you to slap him slightly against the shoulder.

“It was a distraction kiss, nothing else. Don’t let it get to your head,” you said ang took a deep breath when you felt your body relax.

“What now? Any place I can drive you to?” he suddenly asked and you looked over at him, thinking for a moment. You’d be safe with John B and the others as you wanted to meet up later anyway. You nodded and gave him some quick directions.

“So, what are you doing here?” you asked and watched him drive. He had such a pretty face if those eyes wouldn’t be so sad. You wondered why he was like that, he had everything you could wish for and yet, he was still so sad.

“Actually, I was looking for you. I also had never been down to the Cut, my father always keeping me from it so I wanted to take a look.” His voice was so smooth and you had the urge to just press your lips against his once more.

What the fuck was going on in your head? God, that needed to stop, he was a Kook after all. No good came from them.

“Why were you looking for me?” It was beyond you why he would come here only to find you. You were just some girl he had saved from her own stupidity. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny that you hoped to see him again shortly after you had left his place back then. There had been something about him that was pulling you closer and those dreams you had weren’t for nothing. He was special in a way you couldn’t describe just yet.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I just had the feeling I had to,” he said and it confirmed your feelings. He also didn’t really know what he was doing here, just like you didn’t know why you wanted him here.

It was a strange connection that had formed within a couple of hours two weeks ago, a connection that didn’t break. Normally people meet other people, establish some kind of relationship between them. Acquaintances, friends, work colleagues, stuff like that. Sometimes you just meet a stranger, talk to them and then break the connection off.

That’s what you thought this would be but the connection was still there, it was deep in your bones and your mind.

Stupid Kook, about to turn your world around.

You arrived at the Chateau where John B was already coming over before JJ could turn the motor off. He obviously wasn’t used to such cars arriving at his place, that’s why you got out first.

“It’s me!” you yelled and JB visibly relaxed before taking another look at the car and the boy coming out of there.

“Who’s that?” he asked and frowned at you but you just waved off.

“That’s JJ. He saved me, two times to be exact. He’s cool.” You waved JJ over and he followed you step to John B. You gave him a quick hug and then saw how JJ held out his hand.

You glared at John B and he groaned slightly before shaking JJ’s hand.

“I don’t know why you’d bring a Kook here,” he grumbled and you hit his arm slightly.

“I told you, he is cool. He’s pool boy.” You might have mentioned that accident to your friends without any names or mentioning that your blonde savior was a Kook. Oops.

“Pool boy?” a female voice said while coming out of the house and you waved at Kie.

“Kiara?” JJ suddenly said and looked over at her, watching how she stopped in her tracks. You looked between the two of them forth and back.

“JJ?” Yup, they totally knew each other.

“Donkey?” you threw in and laughed a little at your Shrek reference, causing the others to laugh too.

“You know each other?” John B said in choir and the both nodded.

“Yeah, he’s the guy that keeps me grounded at all the Kook events. We drink and make it through the night somehow. He’s cool,” Kiara explained and JJ nodded in agreement.

“See, told you,” you teased John B and he just rolled your eyes. He sometimes acted like a big brother when he wasn’t drowning in his own shit.

“Are you staying? I know what it feels like to be a Kook, so I might as well show you my escape”, Kiara said and JJ rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

You laughed a little because he seemed so out of place right now but you could tell he probably needs an escape from life once in a while.

“Okay, show me,” JJ said and you grinned at him. It was a reckless thing to do, taking a Kook in but technically, Kiara was one too and if she and JJ got along, he would also get along with Pope and John B. It might just take a while but it would be okay.

There was this feeling inside of you that was telling you to help him, to make his eyes look sad and to hear a genuine laugh from him.

#jj x reader #jj maybank #jj imagine #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x reader #obx imagine #obx netflix #kook!jj #pogue!reader #prompt

426 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding On

Ch 19- Everyone Loves A B-J…

Summary: It’s Frank’s birthday and the Adler-Gallagher clan enjoy a family based weekend that brings Frank several surprises along the way, whilst both him and Fliss get a gift that money simply can’t buy.

Warnings: Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: LONG update here guys, and sorry, I really couldn’t resist the Trump bashing again. For what it’s worth, I cannot WAIT to write Frank’s reaction to that election when I finally get there. All together now “F**k Donal Trump!”

Thanks to my wonderful gals @icanfeelastormbrewing and @southerngracela who let me bounce a few ideas off for this...

Chapter Song: I’m Yours- Jason Mraz

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

Well, you done done me, and you bet I felt it, I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted. I fell right through the cracks, now I'm trying to get back.

Given that Alex's stay at his grandparents was a success, Fliss felt much happier about her planned surprise few nights away for Frank. She had already booked most of it in early January, having roped her parents, Mary and even Frank's colleagues into her plotting to ensure that the days she had selected- Thursday to Sunday over the second weekend in March- were booked as leave and factored into the rota at the shop without him knowing. Mary, being her usual googling genius self, helped Fliss to find the perfect place to stay in the area she had selected along with a number of activities and she’d booked the whole thing on her credit card so that Frank wouldn't see anything suspicious showing up on their bank statements. That said, despite all her secrecy, Frank could tell she was up to something. He knew her too well not to spot it. And being the impatient little shit he was, he tried everything he could to coax it out of her to no avail. She wasn't for cracking, and neither was Mary. All he kept getting told from both his girls was "wait for your birthday" which was driving him insane. He even tried to catch Fliss out mid sex one evening. He lay over her, languidly dragging his cock in and out of her at a torturously slow pace, promising her he'd let her come if she told him what she was up to. She'd simply panted out that he was an asshole and then looked up at him with those eyes, wide and bright, shining with love and as usual he'd caved. He never could resist when she looked at him like that and a few minutes later she was crying his name whilst Frank was still none the wiser as to what was actually going on. The morning of his birthday rolled around much the same as any other Saturday morning, except Mary had opted to stay home the night before instead of going to Roberta’s as they were going out for breakfast. The morning sun was warm on Frank's face as it spliced through a crack in the curtains, but that wasn't what had woken him. It was Fliss, kissing and nuzzling all around his shoulders and the back of his neck as she snuggled into him from behind, her hand snaking around his waist and dipping into his boxers.

He gave a croaky little groan as her hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock, lightly stroking him as she continued gently kissing his neck, the heat from her body radiating into his as she pressed her chest to his bare back. Frank turned his head so he was looking over his shoulder and she met him with a cheeky smirk which turned into a slow, gentle kiss, perfect for the lazy, slow strokes she was giving him.

"Happy birthday baby." She whispered, nudging his nose with hers.

“You can say that again.” He choked as her grip tightened around him.

“Happy birthday baby.” She chuckled and Frank rolled his eyes giving a huff of laughter but before he could reply Fliss had gently pushed on his shoulder, coaxing him over onto his back. She moved so she was hovering over him, kissed him again before her mouth made its way down his chest, nose and lips tracing a path down his happy trail and across his Adonis belt. With a soft moan of her name, Frank’s hand tangled in those soft, morning-tousled waves of bright, auburn hair he adored as she glanced up at him with her deep, brown eyes, the polka-dot bed covers peaked around her head. She gave another cheeky grin as her hands reached for the side of his boxers and he shifted his hips to allow her to pull them down. Her eyes locked on his she wrapped her hand round the base of his cock and gave a few further flicks of her wrist, causing him to sigh before she adjusted herself, pulled her hair over one shoulder and took him in her mouth. Frank moaned, totally blissing out as Fliss licked and sucked her way around his dick, the hand that wasn't in her hair fisted around the bed sheets as he felt his pleasure mounting the more she worked him. His hips bucked slight as she took him all the way to the back of her throat, a motion she repeated for 3 or 4 times until he was gone. With a hiss and a croak of her name Frank spilled himself down her throat, his fingers tightening around her hair as he sighed, laying back, eyes closed, chest heaving.

With a smirk Fliss pulled his boxers back up and crawled the length of his body, laying on top of him, her chest pressed to his. He smiled, his eyes still not opening as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close for a second, basking in what a fucking amazing wake-up call that had been, until the baby monitor on the nightstand suddenly emitted a loud gurgled screech signalling Alex was awake and sure enough, as they both turned to look at the screen they could see him attempting to roll over in his crib.

“It was a lot easier when he was right here.” Fliss pouted, her chin on Frank’s chest as she peeked up at him and Frank gave her a stern look.

“We’re not having that argument again, Liss.” He shook his head, “He’s 6 months old now. He can sleep in his own room.”

“I know, I know…” She sighed, pushing herself up away from Frank and climbing off the bed. He watched her go laying back on the pillow, giving a roll of his eyes at the ceiling. That had been one hell of heated discussion earlier in the week when he’d suggested it was time Alex moved into the nursery at night instead of just taking his daytime naps in there. Fliss had protested, shown him all this stuff on the internet about how it was better for kids to be in their parents rooms until they were 12 months old, which Frank and countered with articles to the contrary he had found and stated Mary had never slept in his room from the moment he’d had her. She’d gotten upset, teary, but he wasn’t caving in. He’d hated being so damned forceful with her but the fact was as much as he loved the kids he selfishly and unashamedly wanted his private space back, a space where they got to be alone with one another to allow them to be Fliss and Frank, not mom and dad. Plus he also knew the longer Alex stayed in their room the harder it was going to be to get him to settle in his own space. Eventually, after Fliss had realised this was one thing she wasn’t getting her own way with she’d given in, and spent most of the night tossing and turning, sniffing a little, and when he’d tried to cuddle her she’d told him to piss off. Frank had merely taken a deep breath and backed away, knowing full well that when she got up in the morning and saw that Alex was fine, she’d feel like an ass. And he’d been right. She’d been up at the crack of dawn, straight into the nursery and come back a few minutes later, sidling up to him and hugging him from behind whispering that she was sorry, and the entire thing had been forgotten.

A thud on the bed jolted Frank from his thoughts and he looked down to see Thor had hopped up on the foot of the bed and he flopped down, his head on the peak that Frank’s feet were making.

“Oh, it’s like that is it buddy?” he asked and the dog merely looked at him before giving a contented sigh, his tail thumping on the bed. Then his head perked up as the door to their room pushed open again and his tail grew even more frantic as Fliss entered with Alex in her arms. She placed him down on the duvet and climbed into bed again, both watching as their baby promptly rolled from his back onto his tummy, his head raising to look at Frank as he gave a loud gurgle, grinning up at his daddy.

Frank gave a huff of laughter as he sat up against the headboard and hooked his hands under Alex’s arm pits, standing him up on his thighs. Gently he moved his hand so the baby could grab onto his fingers and Alex stood, looking around the room as Frank helped him stay in place.

“Mum thinks he’ll be crawling soon.” Fliss smiled as she lay back, watching the two of them “I mean he’s already sitting up and bum shuffling on the floor so…”

“God help us…or more to the point God help Thor!” Frank snorted as Alex gave a loud shriek as he spotted the dog led on the bed. Thor once more thumped his tail but made no effort to move. At that point, Alex’s legs gave a little wobble and he plopped down onto the soft duvet, sitting up and grabbing at the pattern on the cover before he looked up, grinning once more at Frank.

“He’s always so happy.” Fliss beamed at the baby who waggled his arms excitedly as Frank once more helped him stand up.

“He does nothing but sleep, eat, drink and mess in his diaper.” Frank shrugged “What’s there to be miserable about?!” Fliss snorted as Frank cocked his head and studied his son. “His hair is definitely going darker.” He mused.

“I know.” Fliss smiled “I’m glad his eyes aren’t though.”

“Glad?” Frank turned to her. “How come?”

“Because they’re just like yours.”

Frank smiled as Fliss leaned over and kissed him softly. They spent a little more time in bed, watching Alex’s various attempts to shuffle over the top of the bed towards the german shepherd at the bottom, before they heard Mary’s door open. She headed into the bathroom first before she knocked on their door and when Frank told her to come in she dive bombed on the bed singing Happy Birthday and demanding that he get up to open his gifts.

It was only since being with Fliss that Frank had really had Birthday or Christmas presents to open since he had left Boston. Granted, Roberta had normally gotten him a little something from her and also Mary but now it was different. And not that he was materialistic but he loved the fact he felt a little spoilt. He sat on the couch and unwrapped each one in turn to reveal a couple of new shirts, a pair of sneakers and a framed photo of the four of them which had been taken by Bill at the last Competition Mary had been in. She was sat on Monty in her full show gear, rosette attached to the pony's bridle as Alex perched in front of her, held safely in place by Fliss's hands. Frank stood at the other side of the pony, his arm round Mary all of them beaming at the camera. "Thanks guys, I love it all." Frank looked up smiling, before he paused as Fliss handed him an envelope "More?"

She nodded from where she sat on the floor with Alex who was stood on shaky legs, hanging on to her fingers just as he’d done with his dad earlier. Frank looked at her suspiciously before he slipped his finger under the flap and tore it open. He pulled out the piece of paper, which was a flight itinerary and his eyes widened as he looked at the destination. "We're going to Vermont?" He looked at Fliss and she grinned, giving a nod. "3 nights, next Thursday to Sunday, just the 2 of us" She informed him as Frank quickly scanned the details, his eyes flicking back to hers as he registered the fact they were going to be alone "Nice little cabin in the Moscow area of Stowe and I booked us a few things to do..." "Please tell me one of those things is the Ben and Jerry's tour!" Frank groaned as and Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Well you know what they say…” she looked at Frank whose eyes flicked back to the printed itinerary before they raised once more to hers, questioningly. She grinned and licked her lips “Everyone loves a BJ.”

Frank gave a snort, followed by a little sigh of delight looking back at the piece of paper in his hand, his eyes shining with happiness as he took it all in. “Lissy, this is amazing." He beamed "Thank you." "Wait..." Mary suddenly piped up "You're going to Ben and Jerry's?" "Yeah." Fliss nodded.

"So not fair." She rolled her eyes "I wanna go."

“Tough.” Frank shot back “It’s my birthday not yours.”

“Well can we go for my birthday?” Mary asked.

“No.”

“That’s so mean Frank.” She whined.

“Go call someone who cares.” He looked at her. She narrowed her eyes and then held her hand out.

“Give me your phone then.” She demanded and Fliss laughed.

“Yeah? And who you gonna call?” Frank eyed her “Ghostbusters?”

Marry grinned “Nope. Poppa Bill. He’ll kick your ass.”

“Oh please!” Frank snorted “I’m not scared of Bill.” He shrugged “I could take him down.”

Mary pondered for a second before she looked at him, a positively wicked smirk crossing her face “Fine, I’ll call Uncle Steeby then. I know you’re scared of him.”

“No I’m not.” Frank scoffed and Mary snorted

“Whatever Frank, you’re only lying to yourself.” She said, standing up “Imma go get dressed. When we going for breakfast?”

“Soon as we’re ready.” Fliss smiled and Mary skipped out of the room, humming something to herself, Fred and Thor both following her as she went.

“You’re a liar.” Fliss looked at Frank.

“What?” he asked, picking Alex up and settling him on his knee.

“Saying you’re not scared of Steeby.”

“I’m not.” Frank shook his head, before his face rearranged into a little smile “I’m petrified of him.”

****

Just over an hour or so later they were settled in a booth at Keke's Breakfast cafe on Gulfport. Mary announced loudly that she didn’t need to see the menu, telling their server that she wanted her favourite, the apple and cinnamon waffles with a side of bacon. Frank rolled his eyes at her hyper nature, a soft smile on his face as she chatted away to the teenager who entertained her ramblings with the patience of a saint whilst he and Fliss gave the menu a cursory glance before they too opted for their standard order. Frank took the large French toast combo with his eggs over easy as always, whereas Fliss chose the raspberry stuffed French toast. They also ordered a side of plain pancakes for Alex, the baby now at the stage of holding various food items in his little hand and gumming them half to death with his few teeth. It kept him quiet and entertained whilst they ate, even if more of it did end up round his face and in his hair than his mouth.

Their food didn’t take long, Frank filling the 15 minute or so wait gently teasing Mary about a boy she had mentioned from school, causing her to narrow her eyes at him, protesting that they were just friends. When Fliss then pointed out that was how her and Frank started off she paused, pulled a face and then informed them that their accusations were both baseless and gross, causing Frank to laugh and lean back in his seat, taking a large drink of his coffee.

Their food arrived and Fliss cut up the pancakes, handing a large piece of one to Alex as they all tucked in, eating with gusto, a happy silence falling over the table which Mary broke a few moments later.

“Can we grill tonight?” she asked, her mouthful of food. Frank looked at her, where she was sat on the bench opposite him, next to Fliss. He shook his head “What?” she asked.

“Seriously, it’s breakfast time and you’re asking about what we’re eating tonight?”

Mary shrugged “You need to be more organised, Frank.”

Fliss gave a snort as Frank looked from Mary to her “Seriously, I’m 39 getting sassed by a soon to be 10 year old.”

“39…” Fliss sniggered and Frank nudged her under the table with his foot.

“So can we or not?” Mary demanded.

“Jeeez.” Frank rolled his eyes, picking up his coffee “It’s my birthday, don’t I get a say in what we do?”

“I’ve actually booked us a table somewhere.” Fliss spoke, cutting across the argument. “Thought it might be nice for us all to go out.”

“Where?” Mary turned to her.

“1200 Chophouse.”

Frank let out a groan of delight at the same time Mary punched the air “Seriously?”

Fliss nodded “It was going to be a surprise. Mum, Dad, Steve, Sian and the kids are coming. Oh, and Roberta.” She turned to Mary “So when we get back you need to ride then bath Monty and load the wagon ready for tomorrow. The table is booked for 6:30 so we can feed Alex before we go. He should be happy enough in the chair.”

Mary nodded “Am I on the 1pm class?”

Fliss shook her head “No, I told Joanne to take you off. I’ll teach you later once the class is done ok?”

Mary grinned “I like it best when we do that.”

Fliss smiled at her and then turned to Alex who had enthusiastically banged his fist on the little plastic tray of the high-chair. “You ok baby?” he grinned at her then let out a loud shriek. “Ok, hang on…” She tore another pancake in half and then handed it to him where he shoved it in his mouth straight away. She watched him for a second then looked at Frank “He’s got your appetite.”

“He’s a growing boy.” Frank shrugged.

“What’s your excuse?” Fliss teased and Frank swallowed the last of his breakfast and leaned back against the bench, arm resting along the back of it as he drank his coffee.

“I burn a lot of energy.” He said after little deliberation, shooting her a wink.

About half an hour later they finished their breakfast and headed home, Mary and Fliss both changing into their riding gear and heading over to the yard for the afternoon. Fliss was apologising to Frank about not spending the full day with him but he chuckled, assuring her that he some peace and quiet and one-to-one time with his boy was celebration enough, earning him a soft nip on his arm in retaliation. He spent the afternoon in between making sure Alex was happy and settled enough flicking through trash TV, drinking beer and scouting the internet for a couple of boat parts some of which were needed and others, like a surround sound digital entertainment system complete with satellite TV, were not. Nevertheless, he marked the catalogue number down along with the stuff he actually did need so he could see how much cheaper it would be when he ran it all through the system at work.

At just gone 5 Fliss and Mary came back through the door, Thor hot on their heels, Fliss face bright red and Mary’s streaked with tears.

“What…” Frank stood up and Fliss held her hand up, telling him to stop. He did as he was told, observing with a frown as Mary kicked off her boots and gave a sniff.

“Fliss, I didn’t…”

“I’ve nothing more to say on the issue.” Fliss cut her off.

“But…”

“No buts Mary.” Fliss shook her head “What you said was really mean and I won’t tolerate it ok?”

“Kay…” She sniffed again.

“The horse world is full of nasty bitches.” Fliss looked at her. “I don’t want you becoming one. You know, you’ve done spectacularly well for your first ever season and now and you’ve pretty much just ruined it for yourself because frankly I’m not sure letting you go tomorrow is appropriate given your behaviour.”

“I’m sorry…please, Fliss. I can’t miss the last show!”

“Enough!” Fliss voice rose and Mary shut her mouth hastily. “No more. Now go get showered and changed, we’re late, we need to leave in an hour.” Fliss spoke with a finality to her voice which Mary clearly picked up on as she didn’t argue or plead anymore. Instead she simply wiped her face and headed through the room to the hall, eyes focussed on the floor as she walked. When she shut the door behind her to the hallway, Frank turned to Fliss, his expression puzzled.

“Ok, what’s going on?”

Fliss groaned, heading to the fridge “She was practicing over a few jumps and couldn’t quite get Monty to make the turn on the last one right, he kept tripping or knocking the pole down so she started to get frustrated. And it didn’t help that Sally was stood watching. Mary carried on getting really annoyed and distracted, and basically screamed at Sally saying that she was putting her off and then called her an asshole and told her to leave because no one on the yard liked her.”

Frank arched an eyebrow “She said that?” Fliss nodded and he groaned “Jesus.”

“And then Sally’s mother started.” Fliss sighed heavily, shutting the fridge door and cracking open the bottle of water she’d retrieved. “She was accusing Mary of being a spoilt brat and a spiteful little witch so then I ended up arguing with her, you know, pointing out that they’re kids and they say stuff, and that Sally is no angel as she has an acid tongue too…not that that excuses what Mary said.” She took a long drink of water “The upshot is her mother served her notice and they’re leaving next weekend.”

“So you lost clients?” Frank folded his arms, shaking his head in frustration, “Because of Mary’s mouth?”

“2 boarders.” Fliss shrugged “I’m not too bothered about that side of it, I have a waiting list so I can fill them straight away, I just don’t want Sandybrook getting a reputation, you know? Livery Yards can be horrible places and I work so hard to nip any bitching and bad feelings in the bud before they can spiral.”

“Did Mary apologise?”

“Oh yeah.” Fliss swallowed some more water. “I tore strips off her. As soon as she said it I told her to get straight off Monty, put him away and we were done. I made her apologise in front of everyone who’d been watching and then told her I’m not sure if I’m gonna take her tomorrow. I also told her if it wasn’t for the fact it was your birthday and we had no one to babysit, she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight either.” She paused and bit the inside of her lip and looked at Frank “Was that too much? I mean…”

“No, absolutely not.” Frank shook his head “And besides, even if I thought it was harsh, which I don’t, I’d never undermine you anyway.”

“Thing is Frank, I really want her to go tomorrow.” Fliss rolled her eyes, “She’s worked so hard and she’s not a bad kid. It feels such a shame to let all her hard work and practice go to waste.”

“Well you didn’t say she couldn’t go for sure, just that you were debating whether or not to allow it.” Frank shrugged “So, let’s see how she goes tonight when we’re out. Then we can decide.”

Fliss nodded “Okay.”

“Honey, don’t think on it.” Frank cocked his head to one side, the look on Fliss’ face betraying the internal conflict she was feeling “You did the right thing.”

“I know, I know but doesn’t stop me feeling shitty about it Frank.” Fliss sighed as Frank walked towards her “I hate having to tell her off. She’s a good kid most of the time and I know deep down she didn’t mean to be so cruel.”

“Well, we all say things at times we don’t mean. I’ve told her that a few times myself.” Frank smiled, wrapping his arms around Fliss.

“It was frustration more than anything.” Fliss melted into his arms and Frank gave a hum of agreement. “Frustration at not being perfect at something.” He said wisely “Monty isn’t an equation or a problem she can work out with maths or logic.” He shrugged “Maybe it will do her some good to learn a little humility.” He dropped a kiss to her head. “Now, no offence but you stink of horses and we have 50 minutes until we need to leave. Go grab your shower, I’ll feed Alex and then get ready. Won’t take me long.”

Fliss chuckled and pulled back, looking up at him, narrowing her eyes “You’re not wearing one of those shirts are you?”

“It’s my birthday.” Frank shrugged “Surely I can wear what I want?”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Whatever.”

“I thought you liked them?”

“They’re hideous”

“But endearing.” He dropped another kiss to her lips “At least that’s what you say.”

She chuckled “I’m only teasing, I kinda like you in them.” She kissed him again and then pulled away, giving a little jump as Frank slapped her ass as she turned around to walk away. She tossed him a look over her shoulder which he met with an innocent one of his own before she walked into the hall, heading up the stairs.

20 minutes or so later, complete with Alex who had enthusiastically wolfed down a generous helping of Fliss’ home-made cauliflower, broccoli and cheese puree, whilst simultaneously smearing it all over his face, he headed up the stairs and into their bedroom. Fliss was wrapped in a robe, finishing off straightening her once hair and she gave a smile as Alex grinned at her.

“He really likes that stuff you made him.” Frank smiled and looked down at his son as he gabbled away in his arms. “I’ll get him cleaned and dressed before I take a shower.”

“I got his outfit ready.” Fliss smiled “It’s on the changing mat.”

“Don’t you trust my fashion sense?” Frank teased and she grinned.

“Your fashion sense is exactly why I picked it.”

“Rude.”

“Trust me, when you see it…you’ll understand.” She smirked.

“Okay…” Frank pulled a confused face before he dropped a kiss to her cheek and turned to head across the hall to the bathroom. 5 minutes later he’d managed to give Alex a quick bath to clean him up and after a little wrestle as the baby really was becoming a wriggle worm, he finally got him wrapped him in his little bear towel with the hood pulled over his light brown hair. Emerging from the family bathroom he made his way towards the nursery, pausing as he heard a little sniffle coming from Mary’s room. Taking a deep breath he moved towards that door instead and gently knocked.

“Stack?” he asked, and when she didn’t tell him to either ‘go away’ or ‘wait a second’ he reached with one hand to open the door and pushed it gently inwards. Mary was sat on the huge bean bag which was situated underneath her raised cabin bed, a book on her lap, her hair damp from the shower. She was dressed in a smart denim skirt which was printed with little white stars and a red plaid top with lace trim down either side of the column of buttons and round the collar. “That new?” he asked having not seen the top before.

“Fliss bought it me last week in Target” she said quietly, wiping her eyes. “I liked it so she said I could have it as I’d done well with Monty”

“Well, you got good taste.” he smiled “Take after me.”

At that she gave him a scathing look and he chuckled a little as Alex let out a little gurgle, his arms outstretched. Mary held her arms out for him so Frank crossed the spacious room and handed the baby over. Alex grinned and made a grab for Mary’s hair, making her smile as Frank sat on the floor in front of them both, his back leaning against the ladders that led up to her bunk.

“You gonna shout at me as well?” she asked after a little pause and Frank inhaled deeply.

“No.” he shook his head, letting his breath out slowly “I think Fliss said everything that needed to be said. I’ve nothing more to add really.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, just disappointed Mary.” he said honestly “I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

Mary looked down, her shoulders slumped “I didn’t mean it. I was just angry. Sally makes me mad.”

“You make me mad sometimes but I don’t say nasty things.” Frank sighed, “Well, I hope I don’t.”

As he spoke those words his mind strayed back a few years to the incident in his apartment when he’d stood on the lego bricks. It seemed like a life time ago, Mary had been so little compared to the girl that sat before him now.

“Hey, look at me.” he said gently and she raised her eyes to his. “Did you mean it when you said sorry?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, I did. But her mom started calling me names and she was so mad at Fliss. Fliss told her to shut up in the end but then she told me off too.”

“Well, that’s because Fliss…” Frank paused, swallowing a little as the words formed in his mind “Well, Fliss is your mom and she loves you, so she’s gonna defend you. That doesn’t mean she agrees with what you did or that what you did was justifiable.”

“I know.” Mary’s voice was quiet “Is she mad? Sally’s mom said they were leaving.”

“Yes they are but…” Frank shook his head “No, she’s not mad. Perhaps a little disappointed in you too, but you know the rules, no one stays mad in this house. We say our piece, we apologise, we move on. And we try to be better in future.”

It wasn’t quite a flat out lie, whilst he and Fliss could argue and stay pissed at each other for days, where Mary (and in the future no doubt Alex) was concerned it was a different story.

“Do you think she’ll let me go tomorrow?”

“Depends on how you behave tonight.” Frank shrugged, moving his legs as he made to stand “I honestly don’t know.”

Mary took a deep breath and Frank pushed himself to his feet with a slight groan as his knees clicked. Fuck this getting older shit.

“Will she dry my hair for me?” Mary looked at Frank.

“Go and ask.” Frank replied simply, taking Alex off her. She followed him out of her room and made her way over to their room, knocking on the door. He paused in the doorway of the nursery, watching as she pushed it open timidly and he saw Fliss look up from where she’d been doing her make up.

“Lissy…” she said quietly “Please could you do my hair for me?”

“Course I will.” Liss smiled, beckoning her in. “Come on.” As she stood up so Mary could sit at the stool she caught Frank’s eye and he gave her a wink before he turned into their son’s room and made his way over to the changing unit at the right hand side. As soon as he saw the outfit he gave a loud laugh and shook his head taking in the tiny little yellow palm printed Hawaiian shirt, almost identical to the one he owned, and jeans.

“You’re momma thinks she’s so funny.” he snorted, dropping a kiss to Alex’s head as he lay him back on the mat. “And to be fair, as far as jokes go, that one’s pretty good.”

*****

The managed to depart just 10 minutes after their aimed for time and arrived at the restaurant 5 minutes or so late, but all things considered that wasn’t a huge issue. They walked in, Frank pushing Alex’s buggy as Fliss gave them the reservation name.

“Ah, yes, Mrs Adler, the rest of your party are in the bar area. If you head through I’ll let your server know you’re all here and she’ll come show you to the table.”

“Thanks.” Fliss smiled, and the 4 of them headed to the left. Mary spotted Steve and the twins first and gave a little yell, running over towards them, Frank, Fliss and Alex following.

“Mrs Adler, huh?” Frank teased, his voice low as he leaned down to speak into Fliss’ ear, the warmth that had flooded his chest at hearing the guy essentially calling Fliss his wife evident in his eyes which were bright with love.

Fliss gave a shrug, grinning as she turned her head to look at him. “I just gave Adler as the name for the table, he just assumed.”

“Well, you will be soon enough.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He expected some sarcastic response about how there was still time for her to change her mind but none came. Instead she merely beamed at him, her hand gently reaching up to cup his cheek “Can’t wait Sailor.” She bit her lip and Frank could do nothing but smile back like a complete love struck idiot, his forehead pressing to hers as he kissed the tip of her nose.

“Get a room!” Steve bellowed over the bar area and Fliss merely turned her head to look at him, raising her middle finger.

“Felicity Rose Gallagher!” Verity scalded “Stop being so uncouth. I brought you up better than that.”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Dad didn’t”

Bill scrunched his face up and shrugged “Touche Titch.” He chuckled as he reached out for Frank, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a manly hug “Happy birthday, Son.”

“Thanks Bill.” Frank smiled, turning to Steve next who did the same before he then greeted Sian, Verity and Roberta with hugs and kisses to the cheek before he ruffled Charlie and Joel’s hair as they came over and hugged him round his waist. “You two grown since last week?” he asked, looking at the 2 boys whose heads were both now almost level with his ribcage.

“Feels like it.” Sian mumbled “Mind you, not like their father is a small man is it?”

Steve opened his mouth, grinning to make a dirty comment no doubt about his size so to speak but instead he gave a yelp as Verity reached up and slapped the back of his head “Don’t even think about it Steven.” She pointed at him.

“Mum…” he wailed as Frank chuckled, moving to the bar after checking if anyone else needed a drink.

“This is on us tonight.” Bill pushed up next to him, waving his hand at the bar tender “Yeah, on the tab for table 20, thanks…”

“Bill, there’s no need.” Frank began the usual protest whenever either of his future in-laws insisted on paying but as normal Bill shook his head.

“I know but we want to.” He shrugged “I mean what’s the world coming to when I can’t treat my kids to dinner huh?”

Frank sighed a little and smiled “Thanks.”

Bill nodded as Frank placed his order- a pilsner for him, lemonade for Mary and a tonic water for Fliss who had said she would drive home. They’d debated getting a cab but as she had assumed she would be up early in the morning to drive to the Competition and said she’d prefer to drive. Now that was all hanging in the balance due to Mary’s earlier behaviour, or lack of more to the point.

Shortly after they were shown to their table, Mary taking a seat next to the twins in between Verity and Bill. When both Steve and Frank began to tell them to sit where they could keep an eye on them, Verity scoffed and waved them away, her arm dropping round Mary.

“My pudding can sit next to me if she wants.” She pouted and Frank rolled his eyes before shooting Mary a look.

“First sign of any nonsense…”

“I know.” She cast her eyes down before she looked at him. “Please can I have my Tablet?”

Frank looked at Fliss and she nodded, reaching into the bag under the stroller for it and handing it over.

“Volume down.” Frank instructed as he passed it round and she took it with a thanks. The three kids huddled round it as Mary turned it on, no doubt looking at their latest Minecraft game or whatever the hell it was the three of them seemed to spend half their lives connected to one another over the internet for. Whilst Frank was conscious most people might consider this lazy parenting, he saw it as being no different to them having a toy or colouring book at the table and so left them to it, as they began to chatter amongst themselves, only being interrupted when they were asked to pick what they wanted to eat. Once the orders were placed and another round of drinks appeared, Frank was handed 3 gift bags over the table, blushing slightly as he took them with thanks. Bill and Verity had bought him a bottle of 15 year Barrell Craft Spirits Bourbon and a new pair of Ray Bans after his had met a sticky end when Alex had pulled them off his face and then dropped them onto the floor where Fliss had accidentally stood on them, cracking the lens. Fully aware of how expensive both those items were he thanks them, whilst reprimanding them once more for spending too much money on them to which Verity hushed him and Bill merely rolled his eyes giving a shrug. Roberta had gotten him a new tool belt for him to use when working on the boat which he was really pleased with. As he showed it to Fliss she cheekily quipped in a quiet voice that he could finally get rid of the spanner in his pocket which had made Sian choke on her drink when she overheard. Steve pat her on her back as she sorted herself out, and then Frank reached into the final bag from Steve, Sian and the boys. He thanked them for the 6 pack of Sam Adams, which could sometimes be hard to find in the stores in Florida, nodded in appreciation at the new Patriots Jersey they’d gotten him with ADLER arched over the back, and reached in to pull the last item out, which was a blue baseball cap.

“What the…” he scoffed and looked at Steve who had broken into a huge guffaw of laughter at the look of disgust on Franks face. Bill and Verity also started to chuckle and as Fliss reached out to turn it towards her she snorted as Roberta slapped the top of the table in utter hysterics as the white letters MAGA stood out clear against the dark navy.

“That was his idea, not mine.” Sian protested as Frank looked down, shaking his head at the joke before he spotted the small writing under the larger letters. “Make the Asshole Gone Again.” He read, and at that he gave a loud laugh. “Wonder if I’ll get away with wearing it for work?”

"I thought you said you were voting Trump?" Roberta’s voice was serious and Frank shook his head, taking a swig from his beer, as she gave him a cheeky grin.

"Don't start him off again, please Roberta!" Fliss groaned "I had to stop him putting his foot through the TV last night when they showed that Jordan Klepper vs Trump Supporters section on the Daily Show."

"He’s an ass clown." Frank replied and Steve laughed.

“Suppose being a Democrat is part and parcel of coming from Mass, huh Frank?”

“What, like being Anti-Tory is part and parcel of being from Merseyside?” Frank shot back and Steve gave a grin, raising his glass in his direction.

“Correct!” Steve nodded enthusiastically.

“Damned Tories…” Bill shook his head. “Johnson doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.”

“You know, I seriously think you should be IQ tested before you're allowed to vote.” Fliss shrugged and Roberta leaned forward.

“Yeah but, how can you test what ain’t there?"

Everyone at the table laughed as Frank reached for his beer. "Actually, if you think about it, it’s pretty simple." he swallowed a mouthful of his drink and looked at Roberta "One question- are you voting Trump? If they answer yes then they clearly have the IQ of a goldfish, right to vote denied."

The table laughed again and it wasn’t long then until their starters arrived and the chatter slowed as everyone tucked in, Fliss taking a minute or so to settle Alex who had woken up with perfect timing as ever.

“You want me to sort him?” Frank lay a hand on her thigh and she shook her head, handing the baby a teething ring.

“No, I got it.” She smiled, “Besides he’s good now.”

Frank gave her knee a squeeze and then glanced across the table where Bill was looking at Mary.

“So, you all set for your last competition tomorrow?” he asked and Frank let out a little groan.

“I err…” Mary’s eyes fell down towards her food “I don’t know if I’m going.”

“Why not?” Verity asked.

Frank looked at Fliss, who had been about to open her mouth and gently shook his head. He wanted Mary to be the one to explain, she was the one that had misbehaved after all.

“Because I was naughty.” She shrugged “So Fliss and Frank said they don’t know if I can go.”

Verity and Bill looked at one another before they both glanced over the table at Frank and Fliss. Fliss raised her eyebrows a little as Frank reached for his drink.

“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.” Verity looked at Mary and she nodded again, her eyes still on her plate, brimming with tears.

“It all depends on tonight.” Frank spoke softly “Good behaviour over dinner and we’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Mary asked, looking up and he nodded.

“Really.”

“What did you do?” Charlie asked.

“Never you mind.” Sian cut him off, looking at him.

“It doesn’t matter what Mary did.” Fliss stated simply “It was dealt with and that’s that. No need to talk about it anymore.”

“But…”

“Charlie, stop.” Steve said sternly. Charlie narrowed his eyes at his dad and Steve pointed his fork at him “Carry on mate, see where that attitude gets you.”

Threat received and understood, Charlie went back to eating and the talk struck up once more about Frank and Fliss’ trip to Vermont the weekend after. The more they talked about it, the more Frank found himself getting excited. 3 nights alone with Fliss in a cabin in the middle of what he was hoping would be a decent covering of snow sounded like his idea of heaven.

Dinner passed with no more talk of misbehaving children and at just gone 9pm they finished desert and Frank sat back, the waistband of his jeans feeling a hell of a lot tighter than they had when he arrived.

“Think I’m having a food baby.” Fliss groaned besides him and he turned to her, raising his eyebrows.

“As long as it’s not a real one.”

She snorted into her lemonade, shaking her head “Oh no…”

“You not fancy another?” Sian, who had heard the exchanged asked and Fliss looked at her, hesitating a little.

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Well that’s a step up from the ‘Oh,Christ no’ you spluttered last time the subject was raised” Frank teased and she nudged him with her elbow as Steve sniggered.

“You can shut up as well!” Fliss glared at him

“Ah come on Titch, another baby in the family would be great.”

“Well you have another, if you want one so bad!”

“We are.” Sian spoke and at that the table fell silent. All eyes turned to her, Verity and Bill exchanging a glance with one another as Fliss looked from Sian, to Steve who leaned back in his chair, arm falling round his wife’s shoulder, a smug smirk on his handsome face.

“No, are you…really?” Verity’s hand fell to the hollow of her throat as Sian blushed a little, nodding.

“We found out last week.” Sian smiled, looking at Steve “We wanted to get you all together and…”

The table fell silent before there was a sudden flurry of excited voices and the scraping of chairs as everyone stood up to hug one another and offer congratulations.

“What’s going on?” Joel piped up and Steve smiled as he sat back down having just received a huge bro hug from Frank.

“We just told everyone about the baby.” He smiled and the twin’s faces fell into identical expressions of understanding.

“What baby?” Mary asked.

“The one Aunty Sian’s gonna have.” Frank looked at her.

“You having a baby?” Mary looked across the table.

“We sure are.” Steve beamed.

“That’s so cool!” Mary grinned.

“So, when are you due?” Fliss asked and Sian smiled.

“Middle of October.” She said “So I’m gonna be huge at your wedding.”

“Especially if its twins again.” Mary chipped in and Frank turned to look at her, before he bit his lip and glanced back up at Steve who’d paled a little.

“You know it is a possibility…” Roberta grinned “Happened to a friend o’ma sister’s. Two sets of twins.”

“Oh, just think Bill!” Verity beamed “Another two grandkids…”

“Mum, shut up!” Steve groaned as the table laughed.

Not long after the happy news, everyone agreed that it was time to be heading home. After another mini argument between Bill, Steve, Roberta and Frank about the check, which Steve and Frank both lost, the party all gathered their things and headed out to the parking lot.

“Roberta, you need a lift?” Fran asked but before she could answer Verity shook her head.

“She’s coming back to ours. We have a bottle of Rioja to crack open.”

Bill let out a dramatic sigh “Can I come sleep in your guest place-ow!” he yelled as Roberta reached up and slapped him round the back of the head.

With a snort Frank clipped Alex into the baby seat and after another goodbye to everyone they headed home arriving just before 10.

“Did you have a nice night?” Fliss asked Frank as they walked up towards the door and Frank nodded, dropping a kiss to her head.

“It was fantastic, the whole day has been great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Shame your mom couldn’t make it.”

“Well she’s still getting over that virus but I was thinking. Maybe near Mary’s birthday we could head up to Mass? We haven’t been since…” he trailed off and Fliss instantly understood why, the last time they’d been in Boston had been when Mary had been taken ill and John had attacked Fliss.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Fliss said as Frank unlocked the door. “It’s a short enough flight for Alex and it would be nice to go.”

Frank smiled as they all stepped inside and Thor came charging out of the kitchen to greet them all.

“Do I have to go to bed or can I watch TV?” Mary asked, looking up “It is Saturday…”

“Well, I would say yes but we have an early start tomorrow.” Fliss looked at Frank and he instantly understood.He rolled his eye softly before giving a concessive nod and Fliss continued “I mean that is if we wanna get to the show on time.”

“I can go?” Mary’s head whipped to look at them both and Fliss nodded.

“Yes, you can go.”

“Oh my god thank you, thank you!” Mary shot over to hug her, her arms wrapping round Fliss’ waist “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“I know.” Fliss dropped a kiss to her head. “Now skoot, we’re gonna be up at 6.”

Mary hugged her again, then turned to Frank who swung her up with a groan “Stop growing will ya?”

“I’ll try!” she giggled, squishing his cheeks between her hands. “Love you dad.”

Dad.

Frank felt his stomach twist, and he glanced at Fliss whose hand had flown to her mouth, her eyes wide. She hastily swallowed, recovering herself, her eyes glassing over as she shifted Alex’s car seat in her arms before she turned to place it on the coffee table.

“I love you too.” Frank cleared his throat, as he dropped Mary to the floor “Go on, I’ll come tuck you in in five.”

She skipped off up the stairs, Fred hot on her heels and as soon as her door shut Frank turned to Fliss.

“You ok?” she asked and he nodded, his eyes full of unshed tears as he sank down onto the arm of the couch. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” He replied softly, and he truly didn’t. “Shocked, a little. I guess, that even despite the adoption I never…well, I never anticipated that because she’s not actually mine and…”

His face screwed up a little, and Fliss stepped in between his legs her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. He pressed his face into her chest, his arms curling around her waist as she gently stroked one hand through his hair and down his neck.

“Of course she’s yours.” She whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. “I keep telling you this. In every single way possible bar biologically, she’s your daughter Frank. We got the paper work to prove it.” At that he spluttered a little laugh and Fliss pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his face as she wiped away a single tear that had fallen down his cheek.

“We just never talked about it.” He shrugged a little lamely and Fliss smiled.

“Somethings you just can’t prepare for, no matter how much philosophy or logic you try and apply.” Her brown eyes locked onto his “This was just, well, it was a natural thing. I can’t explain it any better than that. The question is, did it feel uncomfortable?”

“No.” Frank answered honestly as he shook his head, taking a deep breath, his lip quivering. “And that’s what shocked me the most. I always thought I’d hate it but…”

“But you didn’t?”

“No.”

“And are you gonna be okay if she keeps calling you dad?”

He nodded and Fliss gently bent down to kiss him softly, before pulling away “Then roll with it. Like Dad did with me. You know, if you wanted to you speak to him then I’m sure he’d-“

“I already did.” Frank shrugged a little. “Months ago, just after we’d moved in here and we’d decided to adopt her. He told me about how you’d made that wish at your birthday and…” Frank took a deep breath “And I know Mary’s always said she wishes I was her dad and I guess, well if I’m honest there’s always been this part of me that wishes I was, despite Diane.”

“Diane would be happy, I’m sure.” Fliss looked at him “Frankie, I know this is probably gonna sound so shit, but, well there’s a reason she came to you to…well to do what she did, because she trusted you with her daughter. And you’ve done her proud baby, so proud.”

Frank felt the burning in his nose as he scrunched his face up in an attempt to stem the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him and once more Fliss wrapped her arms around him, gently rubbing between his shoulder blades. “What do I do now?” he whispered “How do I react?”

“You don’t “Fliss replied, kissing his head “You take a minute, then you go upstairs and tuck her in as usual. Don’t make a big thing about it or she’ll start to worry. Chances are she hasn’t even realised she’s said it.”

“And if she has?”

“Well then be honest. Tell her its okay.” She felt Frank nod and then she stepped back, her hands on his shoulders. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” He stood up, wiping his face. He took a deep breath and glanced down at Fliss and smiled, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She smiled “Now go on, I’ll check the doors and be up with you in a second.”

Frank climbed the stairs, taking a deep breath before he knocked gently and walked into Mary’s room. She was already in bed, Fred curled by her feet and as Frank crossed the room he almost tripped over her discarded clothes.

“Seriously?” Frank pointed them as they lay on the bedroom floor. “Wardrobe, not floordrobe Stack!”

“Oops.” Mary grimaced and Frank rolled his eyes, picking the items up, tossing them onto the bean bag under the bed.

“If they’re clean put them away, if not put them in your laundry hamper.” He instructed, leaning against the rails of her bed.

“Sorry, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Mary shuffled onto her side to look at him. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“The best.” Frank smiled honestly “Got to spend it with all my favourite people. And you.” Mary shoved him gently and he laughed, “Joking, joking!” he smiled, brushing her hair back off her face “You know you’re my best girl.”

“What about Fliss?” Mary narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“She’s my best woman.” Frank answered easily. Mary looked at him before she smiled, accepting his explanation. “You excited about tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Mary nodded “And nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about.” Frank shook his head “Just go out there and enjoy it. You’ve done so well for a first season, Fliss was saying that earlier. We’re proud of you sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” She grinned “Hey, Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I said before...downstairs?”

Frank took a deep breath “I do.”

“Did it bother you?”

“Not one bit.” He smiled and Mary grinned.

“Good, because I think I’d like to say it more going forward.” She reached out, her fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Unless you annoy me. And then you can be Frank again.”

Frank chuckled “Sounds like a deal, Stack”

“Okay, you can go now. I need to sleep.” Mary snuggled down into the covers and Frank smiled, pulling them up round her chin, dropping a kiss to her head.

“Night”

“Night.”

He turned to leave the room, throwing a last glance over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him.

***** “Mary, are you paying attention?” Fliss looked at her as she sat astride Monty, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turned her head, “I’m just so happy!”

“I know honey!” Fliss chuckled, “And you did so well in your other two classes and yes we’re gonna celebrate that later but focus on this one now, yeah? You’ve gone clear so all you need to do is get round the jump off. You remember the order?”

“Erm…” Mary spun in the saddle looking round “Yeah its two, six, nine, double back to twelve, across to five and then you send him quickly down the line to finish at eight.”

“Good.” Fliss smiled “Remember, let Monty find his way. Don’t mess too much and if you think you can make that sharp turn after nine and cut through instead of round four then do it. If not, take the safe route and aim for clear.”

“Ok, yeah, got it.”

“Glad you did.” Frank mumbled, gently pushing Alex’s buggy to and fro as the baby dozed “’Coz that all sounded like a different language to me.”

“That’s because you don’t get it, Dad.” Mary turned to look at him.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Frank agreed

“You would do if you spent more time watching me instead of faffing with the boat in the garage.” Mary shrugged. At her words Frank narrowed his eyes and turned to Fliss who was biting her lip, a faint flush on her cheeks.

“Don’t look at me!”

“Oh, I’m lookin’ at you Cowgirl, because no one else I know uses the word faff.” He arched an eyebrow. “Well apart from your mom, dad, Steve and Sian…damned British slang!”

Fliss snorted “Ok, busted. But that’s not exactly what I said.”

“Well what was?” he dropped his voice a little and Fliss started to laugh.

“I just said to Jo when she commented she hadn’t seen you in a while that you were busy with the other woman in your life aka the boat.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Hey, that engine was giving me trouble.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“And you weren’t complaining about me faffing too much when you were up there with me a few weeks back.” Frank dropped his head as he spoke into her ear and smirked as Fliss shivered at the feel of his bearded cheek scratching slightly at her neck.

“Well that situation benefitted me.” She muttered back, her eyes hidden behind her shades as she kept her face turned towards the ring, watching the first of the ten kids through to the jump off go.

“Very selfish of you Miss Gallagher.”

“Well when it comes to you I don’t like sharing.”

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed a kiss to her cheek “No worries on that count, I’m all yours baby.”

She smiled, and then winced as the competitor in the ring misjudged the turn between two jumps and the pony slammed on, sending her flying over its neck. Frank swallowed as Mary turned to look at Fliss her eyes wide.

“Why did she undercut that turn then?”

Fliss shook her head “If she’d have hugged tighter to the corner she might have made it but as it was she only got a two stride run up.” She bit her lip then frowned “Don’t you do that!”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Mary snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Good.” Fliss nodded “Like I said, you can make your time up between nine and twelve and then five and eight, if you need to.”

Frank groaned “Why couldn’t you pick a nice safe hobby…like swimming or something?”

Mary looked at him reproachfully “Frank, I could already swim.”

“Yeah but…”

“And Swimming can be dangerous, people drown.”

“Not if they’re supervised.”

“And besides, if I hadn’t wanted to go horse riding, you’d have never met Fliss.” Mary looked at him, fixing him with a maddening smug look because she knew that was the absolute ace card.

“Okay, you got me there.” Frank grumbled “Smart ass.”

Fliss chuckled as the three of them turned their attention to the ring and eventually after the other nine riders had finished, Mary’s name and number was called having been pulled last in the random order draw.

“Good luck.” Fliss smiled as she walked Mary to the gate of the arena before she set off, trotting Monty around the outside of the arena before the buzzer sounded. And then she was off. Frank hated this bit, and always found himself torn between desperately wanting to watch and also wanting to look the other way. He normally settled for a combination of the two, watching for a second, looking away, glancing back…but this time he found himself watching Fliss. Her face was set in utter concentration as she watched Mary’s round, her head tilting left to right, her hand making a pulling motion as she was willing Mary to slow Monty down and then suddenly she perked up completely, her lips curling upwards.

“She’s cut the corner, she’s gone for it.” She whispered and Frank’s eyes snapped back to the arena to see Mary clear the second to last jump and Monty picked up the pace. “Not too fast.” Fliss muttered “Pull him up, just take a check, a little one. Oh, shit!”

At Fliss’ last words Monty took off, clipping the pole with his front feet. It rolled in the cups and Frank held his breath before it rocked a little too far and fell to the floor. There was a collective sigh of disappointment around the ring from the spectators and then applause rang out as Mary crossed the finish line and turned to see the pole on the floor. She hung her head a little, shaking it before she trotted out and stopped by Fliss and Frank.

“Hey…” Fliss beamed at her “That was really unlucky. He only just clipped it.”

“It rolled?” Mary grimaced and Fliss wrinkled her nose as they set off back to the wagon.

“Fraid so.”

“Bummer.” Mary shook her head.

“What?” Frank asked, utterly puzzled.

“It means that the pole simply rolled off, it wasn’t taken straight down with the knock.” Fliss explained “Believe me, It’s the most annoying thing in the world.”

“But it’s the same result.” Frank looked at them both and Mary groaned exasperatedly.

“Don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand!”

“That’s me told.” Frank scoffed as she jumped off Monty and proceeded to remove her hat.

“Can we go see who won?” She turned to Fliss who had just taken Monty’s saddle off.

“Sure, let’s get him loaded up and then we’ll go.”

Once Monty was back on board, the ramp shut they headed back down to the Arena, Fliss pushing Alex’s buggy as Mary slipped her hand into Frank’s. They arrived back just in time to see the placings.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Mary shrugged “Saffy won the class.”

“You know her?” Fliss frowned.

“Only from when we were waiting in line before.” Mary shrugged “She seemed nice. I wonder who’s won it overall.”

“We’ll check online later.” Fliss said, before she grinned “You know, I’d kinda like to know who won the Junior Rider class for the season. Any idea Frank?”

“Oh, some blonde kid with an attitude problem.” He shrugged as Mary looked up at him, her eyebrows arched, hands on her hips.

“Well everyone says I act like you so any attitude I do have…” she drew a circle in the air with her index finger of the hand that wasn’t holding his before pointing at him “…is one hundred percent your fault.”

Fliss spluttered out a laugh as Frank blinked, looking at Mary then to Fliss. “I…wow.” was all he could bring himself to say.

The three of them politely applauded as the top six riders took a lap of honour before the winner took her own and as she emerged from the ring Mary let go of Frank’s hand and stepped forward.

“Well done.” She smiled at the girl who sat atop a chestnut pony and Frank watched, the pride in his chest almost stopping his breathing. He felt Fliss slide an arm round his waist and he moved, dropping his own over her shoulders as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Mary!” the girl grinned “You were so unlucky with your last pole.”

“I did my best.” Mary shrugged “That’s what my mom and dad say matters the most.”

Frank felt Fliss stiffen a little besides him “Did she…”

“Yeah…”he whispered, dropping a kiss to her head.

Fliss took a shaky breath and hastily blinked back the tears as Mary turned back towards them “Hey, can I go get a drink with Saffy from their van? I’ll be like 10 minutes?”

“Erm…” Fliss wiped her face and looked at the woman next to Saffy who smiled and nodded.

“It’s fine.” She beamed “Fliss isn’t it? You run Sandybrook?”

“Yeah.” Fliss smiled.

“I’m Jenny, Saf’s mom. And we’re just parked right there.” The woman spoke “I wouldn’t mind a chat with you actually about a horse I have. He needs backing and you came recommended.”

“Sure, just…” Fliss looked at Frank and he gave a grin

“I’ll set off back with him.” he nodded to Alex who was fast asleep. “See you at home, take as long as you need.”

“You sure?”

“Course.” Frank gave her a kiss before he called to Mary “Hey Stack, I’m gonna go.” She turned and ran towards him, hugging him tight as his hand dropped to the back of her head. “I’m proud of you.” He said softly and she beamed.

“Thanks Dad.”

He gave her another hug before he turned and took the brake off the stroller, turning it round. As he made his way back towards where his truck was park he tossed a glance over his shoulder to see Fliss now in a full on laugh at something the woman called Jenny had said, head tipped back, shoulders shaking, her pretty profile simply radiating happiness.

And right there, Frank knew there couldn’t possibly be ANY man in the world who felt the sheer contentment and love that he did.

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

58 notes · View notes

thatotherfooltheycallweaver · 3 years

Text

Putting this out

This is the first "chapter" type thing of a fic I'm working on, hoping to get a little feedback--kind of an "outside view"

anything is appreciated

In the dim lights of early morning Queens, New York City, a teenage girl who had only gotten a maximum of three hours’ sleep had been startled awake by her alarm once again. She had already pressed ‘snooze’ twice, and would likely remain asleep if it were chosen a third time. The girl managed to pull herself from the half-awake state that tried so hard to coax her back to sleep. Untangling herself from several blankets, she stumbled out of bed; the cold already welcoming her to reality. The girl realized that she needed to hurry up if she was going to grab anything to drink before she got on the train. Deciding that she would need a bit of a personal motivator for that day, she grabbed her favorite pair of black jeans. They were a well worn pair, with a few rips from how frequently they were used. She grabbed a shirt that had been hanging from the handle of her door, a bit unsure how long it had been there, and put it on over the tank top she slept in. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen for her, lighting a stick of lavender and sandalwood incense, a staple in their household. There was music playing softly in the background, which she quickly recognized as ABBA, one of her mother’s favorite bands.

“Hey, Sierra. Good morning.” Her mother smiled. “I made you some coffee to take with you. Iced, just the way you like it.” Sierra smiled back, hugging her.

“Morning, mom.” She let go. “Are you feeling any better today?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Her mother pulled the hair out of Sierra’s face. “You can’t stay long...you might miss the train.”

“I had an alarm…?”

“It actually went off four times before you came out, hon. I was about to come wake you up.” Her mother grabbed something wrapped in a paper towel, handing it to her. “I hope you have a good day at school. I love you.”

“Sorry. I really appreciate this. Love you, too. Have a good day.” Sierra grabbed her bag and headed out the door. It turned out that the thing in the paper towel was a donut with strawberry jam in it. She loved strawberries, and felt a smile form on her lips. She got on the train just in time and put her earbuds in, hoping to keep the good energy going for as long as possible.

The day seemed to pass by so slowly, and the caffeine did not linger for more than a few classes. She was just beginning to crash when she got to chemistry. She had to fight the urge to fall asleep the moment she sat down. It was that class, followed by history, and she’d be able to go home. She had gotten in a tad later than usual, and chose the second to last seat available. She checked her phone and swiped away a few YouTube notifications, hoping she’d remember to watch them later on the way home. A boy she had seen around but never actually talked to had come in last, fumbling with the books in his hands and the papers stacked between. He put them down on the desk, but they fell off, scattering a bit. He scrambled, trying to grab them before they fell. Feeling sympathetic, Sierra got up and helped him. She stacked the papers she grabbed semi-neatly. He put the books he wouldn’t need in his bag, apologizing and thanking her as the last paper was grabbed and handed back to him.

“Hey, anytime.” She replied, glancing up at him. He was a bit taller than her; and from her view, the first thing she saw were his eyes: a vibrant, warm brown. She blinked, trying to cover the hesitation. He slowly sat down beside her desk, followed by her doing the same. “I’ve had days like that, too.” She reassured him, sensing his embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair somewhat, tucking the pen in her hand behind her ear. At first glance, it almost blended in with her dark hair.

“For me, it’s almost like every day.” He joked lightly with an embarrassed laugh, a faint blush forming. “Sorry.” He added under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Trying to make him feel more comfortable, she changed the subject. “You’re in a few of my other classes, aren’t you?” She asked, to which he nodded. “History and gym, right?”

“Yeah...uh, I think so.” He looked more directly at her, scratching at his neck. “I’m Peter...Parker.”

“Sierra Collins. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He smiled slightly. The class about to begin, Sierra grabbed the pen from behind her ear and softly tapped it against the desk a few times. Peter leaned forward on his desk slightly. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation up and not act awkward. She gave a confused look. “The dark circles. I just...sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t realize. No, I didn’t. Studying and shit.” She shrugged, noticing faint bruises that looked almost fully healed on his forearms, right where the sleeves ended. He scratched at one of them. “You okay?” She asked, a little worried for a moment.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” He looked at her. “I’m just very clumsy.” It almost sounded as if he made it up on the spot, but it also seemed plausible.

“Ohh...gotcha. I totally get that.” Sierra noticed that the teacher was writing something on the whiteboard, trying to get ready for the class to begin--notes or something similar. She copied the things that she thought were important in rushed handwriting. She mumbled in irritation, erasing some of it.

“My aunt says it’s because I grew so fast.” He said before immediately regretting it. He mentally cursed himself for his awkwardness. He tried to focus back on his notes, hoping he didn’t completely embarrass himself; trying to pretend that she didn’t even hear him.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. Pretty sure they’ll patch it in the next update.” She looked away, unsure if she made the situation worse. Peter laughed quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Balanced mechanics would be nice, for once.” She chuckled, grateful he didn’t hate the joke. They sat in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the class, helping each other with notes when it was needed. When the bell rang, it turned out that they were both heading in the same direction to their next class, gym. At that point, likely from fatigue or exhaustion, Sierra wasn’t feeling well enough to participate in class. She headed over to the bleachers, sitting with her closest friend, Liz. They’d been friends since middle school.

“Hey, Sierra.” She said with a smile as the girl sat beside her.

“Hi. Mind if I stick around?”

“No, not at all. Betty’s coming over to sit with us. Her and Audrey.” She leaned back somewhat. “How are you? Your mom feeling better?”

“I’m okay. Mom’s much better today.” Liz smiled at her response.

“Good.” Betty and Audrey walked over, the latter opting to sit near MJ, away from the immediate group. The others had been talking for a bit, asking ‘fuck, marry, kill’.

“This again?” Sierra asked, slightly irritated. They always gave weird answers, illogical in her opinion.

“They’re bored.” Liz shrugged. Seymour, a boy with dark complexion and short hair, laughed at something before turning to Sierra.

“Collins: fuck, marry, kill. Seidr, Thor, Captain America.” He asked. She sighed.

“Fuck Thor, kill Cap, marry Seidr.” The last one was Cassandra Falk, a Norwegian woman who had disappeared in February of 2010, a couple months before the Battle of Puente Antiguo, only to reappear shortly before the Attack on New York. In between the Chitauri invasion and Sokovia, she joined the Avengers.

“Damn, you didn’t even think about it.” Betty laughed. “Dor me, it’d be fuck Seidr, marry Thor, kill Cap.”

“Seidr deserves the world.” Sierra shrugged, defending her decision.

“What about the Spider-Man?” Liz asked.

“It’s just Spider-Man.” Betty shook her head, pulling the hair out of her eyes.

“Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys!” She defended him.

“Oh my god, she’s crushing on Spider-Man.”

“No way…” Sierra muttered. She didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of him, despite respecting him.

“I mean…” Liz shrugged. “Sort of…? I don't know, what's with you being against him. You like him, right?” She asked Sierra.

“No, Betty's got a point. You're like my best friend but I'll never understand your obsession. He's literally so awkward and a complete dork.”

“Dorkiness can be cute." She stated with a shrug.

“How do you know he's like that? Have you met him?" Seymour teased.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just the vibe from those videos on YouTube.” Sierra explained with an uncomfortable chuckle.

"He could literally be thirty years old." Betty told Liz with a disgusted expression.

“Yeah, and what if he's, like, seriously burned?" Seymour asked.

“I don't care, I'll love him for who he is on the inside.” Liz said, pointing to her chest for emphasis.

“Yeah but have you ever actually met Spider-Man? You don't know who he is on the inside, either. You just know him from what he does. He could be a completely different person off the job.” Sierra pointed out, tilting her head slightly.

“From what I know, he's a great person who helps people.” Liz said.

“What about Echo, they're pretty badass." Seymour pointed out. Echo was a reclusive--the term used loosely, they were everywhere but were good at evading any documenting of their work--vigilante, a being that could manipulate shadows.

“I didn't think many people knew about Echo. There isn't much info on them from what I could find online.” She glanced at him, interested.

“I've only seen one video of them, but they seem a lot cooler than Spider-Man. The whole mystery thing.” He explained.

“They are kinda cool I guess.” Liz added. “I just think Spider-man is more of an icon, you know?” She said, ignoring the offended look Sierra was giving her.

“I didn't know they had videos.” She tried to ignore it. “Could you send them to me when you get a chance?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded.

“Ooooh, someone has a crush on Echo.” Betty playfully teased.

“I don't, I just like knowing about heroes.” She shrugged. “I mean you guys mocked me for saying that Seidr was cool. And I was proven right.” Audrey slowly took out her earbuds.

“What are they talking about?” She asked MJ, tired. She looked up from her book and glanced at the group.

“Um, I think I heard something about Spider-man being thirty.” She shrugged, looking back at the book.

“Oh. Sounds kinda dumb.” She shifted slightly, as if to turn more towards her, to be polite. “That any good?”

“Yeah, that's true. Seidr is definitely a girlboss." Seymour nodded, leaning back against the seats behind him. “You can have Echo if that means I can take Spider-man.” Liz joked, looking at Sierra.

“It's very depressing...so yeah, it's great. I could lend it to you once I'm done, if you'd like.” MJ said, glancing at Audrey, who nodded. “I only have like twenty chapters left so I'll probably be finished by Friday.” She nodded, trying not to smile.

“Thanks.”

“You literally don't listen. You and Spider-Man are perfect for each other.” Sierra muttered, irritated.

“Thank you, I'm honored you think that.” Liz laughed softly, putting her hand on her heart dramatically.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” One of the guys, Ned--if Sierra remembered the name correctly--suddenly shouted from where people were actually participating in class.

"No, n-no!" Peter quickly sat up, panicked. “No, I mean--”

“They’re friends.” He continued, oblivious to the looks everyone was giving them.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash, objectively a complete jackass, sneered as he jumped down from the rope he was climbing. Sierra didn’t get along with him and he frequently bullied Peter.

“I-I’ve met him.” He stuttered. “Yeah. A couple times. But it’s, um...through the Stark internship. Mm-hmm.” He turned to Ned, glaring daggers and gritting his teeth. “And I'm not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party. Right?” Flash looked over, as if to be sure the party was still going on.

“He said he just met him once, leave him alone.”

“Actually, I might not be able to make it to the party. I have a date with Black Widow.” He looked at Sierra with a glare.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight.” Liz confirmed, trying to keep them from talking over each other and arguing. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

“Having a party?” Peter asked, still try

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“Flash, you absolute dumbass, Widow's already got a boyfriend who she's happy with. She wouldn't waste her time.”

“Correction, no one would waste their time with you.” Betty added.

“I don’t care.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the super-nerd.”

“You'd think in a world of gods and heroes that could've been straight out of the movies, you'd pay more attention to the world around you. But no, you're still the same shitty self-centered asshole as usual.” Sierra snapped.

“Collins!” Coach Wilson interrupted, trying to calm the situation down. “Alright! We can stop that there! Can everyone go back to what they were doing? Thank you.” Sierra stepped back.

“Why are you booing me? I'm right.” She mumbled, looking at Peter with an apologetic expression before going back over to the others. She didn't usually start shit with a crowd around, but she was just so fed up with Flash's bullshit at that moment specifically.

“Okay, Sierra, go off.” Liz smiled at her, proud of her otherwise introverted friend speaking her mind for once.

“That's a once in a lifetime thing. Promise.” She backtracked, all of a sudden getting shy, as realizing what happened.

“No, that was the best thing ever. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you kinda said what I was thinking.” She smiled. Everyone had left to go get changed back into normal clothes. Sierra got done a few minutes before the bell had rung. She waited for her friend, in the hall

“Think there's room for me at that party?”

“Of course, you're always invited.” Liz smiled again, standing up as well. She smiled back, walking with her but hesitating for a moment, looking at Peter, who was heading into the corridor. “Give me a sec.” She said to Liz.

“Don’t take too long.” She replied before following the group out. Sierra walked over to him. He looked up.

“Hey…” He pulled at his sleeve, a bit timid.

“You doing okay? I know that was probably uncomfortable and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm fine. That was pretty standard.” He said quietly and nodded with hesitancy. “I...thank you--for telling him off. I know it probably wasn't for me, but still.” She looked up, as if caught off-guard. She realized that he was right, and it didn’t sit right with her.

“No, you're right. I kinda made it about myself when I was supposed to be defending you. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you definitely shouldn't be apologizing for that. I would really like the least amount of things to be about me as possible.” He said with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks again for defending me, though. No one's ever done that for me before.”

“Anytime, really.” She smiled softly, glancing back. “Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see you at Liz’s party?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He smiled slightly.

#marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker #my writing #oc #oc ship #fic writing #wip #please critique #fanfic writer #need feedback

3 notes · View notes

sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 3 years

Note

"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."

“So you see,” Sebastian continued, “There is a historical precedent for this sort of thing. I’m hardly the first businessman to notice the wasted resources just rotting away underground. Or stuffed into an urn, depending on customs and family sentiment.”

“There’s historical precedent for a lot of fucked up shit, Shaw. That doesn’t make it okay!” Pyro stared, aghast, at the website. “Does the Council know you’re doing this? They can’t possibly approve!”

“Are you going to run and tattle on me?” Sebastian sneered. “That doesn’t seem like you, Allerdyce, but you have become more of a conformist rule-follower in Krakoa, it seems. At any rate, some of the Council are aware of my side business. They have elected not to bring it to a vote in meetings, so presumably I am breaking no law of the island.”

“But….it’s wrong. It’s bloody grotesque is what it is!” Pyro exclaimed.

“Is it better or worse than burning people to death during a bank robbery, or as part of some half-baked political protest?”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Shaw!” Pyro snapped. “I know I’ve done some bad things – “

“Some bad things. What an adorable generalization, ducking out of all serious responsibility – “

“I know I’ve killed people, okay?” Not quite as many as some X-Men wanted to pretend, though. He mostly went for guards, police officers and soldiers, who, as far as Pyro was concerned, had it fucking coming. He hadn’t wanted to kill people to rob a bank, and there was never a need to if the civilians were smart enough to stay well back.

“But killing people doesn’t mean I can’t draw any moral lines, ever,” Pyro continued. “And I’m drawin’ a line right here. This is not okay.”

“Why not? Who does it hurt, really?”

“Well, surely the people whose bodies are getting rented out to sickos! No one would want that.” Pyro wasn’t sure he could articulate the sick churning in the pit of his stomach. It was something that went beyond logic, just a deep sense of disgust that seemed to well up from the center of his being. He was an open-minded fellow, he was willing to play fast and loose with a few morals, but surely some things were just….wrong. Right?

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively. “And apparently X-Factor is running some very interesting experiments with discarded mutant corpses over in their appropriately named “Boneyard.” And I’m quite confident that Sinister is probably churning out clones in his little lab, no matter how he might deny it. So whats the harm in my business?”

“Just because other people are doing it doesn’t make it okay! It’s like a….desecration, isn’t it?” Perhaps there was some of his Gran’s staunch Catholicism lurking under the surface, despite Pyro’s current status as…well, not an atheist, exactly, more like an agnostic who didn’t want to think about things too hard. He had to admit, a childhood of Mass and Confession and Hail Marys really got under your skin, no matter how long ago you walked away from the church.

“All this fuss over discarded meat,” Sebastian shrugged. “That’s all it really is when you remove religion and sentiment from the equation. Really, Allerdyce, I’m surprised at your squeamishness.”

“Are you really okay with it, then?” Pyro asked. “Letting some human fuck a mutant corpse? That’s what they’re doing it, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. I believe that’s the most common activity, but a few people want to cook and eat choice pieces.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly all right, then.” Pyro’s words were so heavy with sarcasm, they practically thudded onto the floor.

“Understand, Allerdyce, I find all this personally distasteful. I am disgusted by the idea of necrophilia, and even cannabalsim. But I see no reason to deny others, if there is money to be made. The ‘sickos’ will pay top dollar for discrete fulfillment of their taboo desires.”

“But do you really want to be putting mutant corpses in human hands? Haven’t they got scientists trying to study us or clone us or whatever? Put our DNA in Sentinels to make super-weapons?”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “Really, I didn’t think you were so naïve. Mutants have been in the public eye for several decades. The various governments of the world have been capturing mutant test subjects for a very long time. There are hundreds of mutants buried in graveyards and millions in the heavy layer of ash that still covers Genosha. If some enterprising human scientist wants mutant DNA, it would be very, very easy to lay hands on it. In fact, your own corpse is probably preserved in a government lab somewhere. In other words, there’s no point in closing the barn door at this point. The horses are long gone.”

Pyro couldn’t resist a full-body shudder at the thought. He knew, deep down, that his body was probably stuck in a metal drawer somewhere, or cut into chunks sitting in labelled glass jars. The US government had probably been interested in him as a Legacy Virus victim, back before the cure. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.

“And the bodies are only available for a limited amount of time, at any rate,” Sebastian continued. “Aside from the obvious natural impermanence of a corpse, I’ve had Sinister inject the bodies with a kind of “kill switch.” After five days, the corpse will dissolve, leaving no trace behind. The humans are only paying to rent, after all.”

“But wait…..” Pyro ventured. “What gives you the right to sell other people’s bodies? Shouldn’t they be the ones to profit off that?”

“What gives people the right to collect discarded trash?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms wide. “Would you begrudge the little old lady collecting aluminum cans for a few pennies from a recycling center? Or the struggling student who takes a sofa from the side of the road? That’s all these corpses are. Trash. Their previous owners have shiny new bodies – bodies gifted to them by Krakoa and the Five, by the way – and left no instructions as to disposal. I don’t use bodies from people who requested to be cremated, or some kind of ritual burial. Just bodies have have been carelessly tossed aside, by people who clearly don’t care.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to everyone else, then,” Pyro said. “I’m sure they’ll all be totally understanding.” He realized a moment later, with a nervous twinge, that threatening to tell on the unscrupulous businessman while you were sitting alone in his massive castle and no one else knew where you were was a very stupid thing to do. Fuck. He should have at least claimed to have evidence left with a trusted friend or something, but he’d only just stumbled across this, while exploring the so-called “dark web.” Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.

“I told you, some Council members are already well aware,” Sebastian said, sitting back and regarding Pyro across steepled fingers. “I don’t think you’d find those in authority quite as willing to turn on me as you imagine, Allerdyce. In fact, it’s entirely possible that any attempt to inform the public will lead to a hasty mind-wipe for you.”

“I’ve got proof. I left it all on a flash drive with……” Freddy? Dominic? Mystique? “….a friend,” he finished, not wanting to actually put anyone else in the crosshairs. Hell, Mystique might even know about this. He’d like to think better of her, but she always had schemes within schemes going. He wondered which telepath on the Council might be in on this. Was Sinister a telepath? That arrogant piece of shit Exodus? He seemed too high-minded to approve, but that mission in the Savage Land had shown Pyro that Exodus did not give a single fuck about mutants that he considered weak or “unworthy.” Frost? Even Xavier? Pyro had never trusted that creepy bastard. Something about him had always seemed too good to be true.

Sebastian laughed again. “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you? That’s cute. Allerdyce, you are not in some ridiculous detective story. I am a practical man, and despite your bleating about morals, I know you are, too. I am willing to make you an offer. It’s an easy job. All you have to do is ‘keep mum,’ as they say.” Sebastian wrote a number down on a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.

It was, in fact, a very nice number. Enough to make some of Pyro’s disgust quickly fall away.

“After all, why shouldn’t you enjoy the same kind of luxury experienced by Krakoa’s elite? You serve aboard the Marauder, and you’re obviously on the lowest rung of the crew. None of the power and privilege weilded by the X-Men, none of the wealth bestowed by birth on Christian Frost, my own son, and the Von Struckers. And you do significantly more work than for the Hellfire Trading Company than those spoiled idiots. Why not take a little something for yourself?”

Pyro’s mind whirled. Of course, taking the money now would mean he was “in it,” so to speak. And if the secret got out, he’d probably be implicated along with Shaw, at least in the eys of his fellow mutants. Which would hurt a bit, after all his heroics with the Marauders. He was starting to feel, at least a little bit, like a good guy.

But on the other hand, if Sebastian was telling the truth, and some of the Council already knew, trying to tattle would just get him in the shit. It was all well and good to have movies about heroic whistle-blowers, but in the real world, they got slandered, ruined, and sometimes murdered. No one would stand up for a relative nobody like Pyro, especially if Frost and Mystique already knew. At best he’d just get mind-wiped.

It would be safer to just walk away and keep his mouth shut. And if he was going to walk away anyhow, why not pick up a paycheck for it?

They were just corpses, right? What a resurrected mutant didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

And it didn’t seem to actually be breaking any Krakoan laws.

And it was a lot of money.

And Pyro really did like money.

It wasn’t like he was a proper journo anymore, was he? No need for integrity.

Pyro pushed the paper back across the table.

“You’ll need to add a zero to that number before I’ll even consider it,” he said. “And this is just for silence, understand? I’m not gonna be your employee, don’t start expecting me to fetch and carry.”

Sebastian grinned, making a mark on the paper, and held it his hand to shake.

“I knew you’d see sense. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Allerdyce.”

OOC: I was going to make that sillier, but the more I thought about it…..Sebastian probably would bribe Pyro to shut up, and Pyro would probably just take the money. He’s trying to be “good,” but not that good. Also, no offense intended to Exodus. After the story in the Quicksilver min-series, when Pyro is working with Acolytes on a mission for a supposed Legacy Virus cure (which doesn’t exist), Pyro probably holds a serious grudge against him.

#sebastian shaw #pyro #st john allerdyce

6 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

FUCK YOU TIME! I’m aware I’m an hour and a half late, but I finished the chapter, so HA. I know nobody cares, but I’m happy with myself. Previous chapter is at the bottom of the page, of course.

Chapter 4

"Why, pray tell, don't you trust me?"

"Because you're being paranoid." Mikey gets into position at the top of the ramp as you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, watching your friends back home sincerely mourning your death. "I am an ex-peer-ee-onsed skateboarder and ninja. This is gonna be epic."

"As someone who saw that episode," you reassure him, sighing at your mother's inactivity online confirming your suspicions for the umpteenth time, "you are absolutely going to get in trouble." The lair is a mess, the ramp more so, and the entire situation is so obviously the inciting incident that you're half convinced that the universe itself is pranking you. You slid the phone into your pocket, not really in the mood to start crying again. "In fact, this is directly related to the theme of the episode. In other words, don't do it."

"Relax, dude." He sets himself up. "I am totally gonna make this jump and it is going to be sweet."

"Theme?" Donatello pipes up from his place on the ground in front of the ramp. "The first major constituent of a clause?"

You blink. "No, the new Subway footlong. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That's the definition of theme."

"Who uses that definition? Grammar teachers?"

"The dictionary."

You are dumbfounded. "Why would I— do you know how people usually use that word?"

"People usually use that word at all?"

You look over at Raphael and Leonardo, who are on the floor next to him, and who seem completely disinterested. "Do you guys—"

"No. Who uses the word 'theme'?" Raphael rolls his eyes. "Mikey, do you plan on jumping today?"

"Wait, so none of you have ever used that word in a literary sense?"

"There's a literary sense?"

You sigh. "In hindsight, I guess that makes sense, since— Mikey, you're gonna get grounded for it."

"Will not."

"Will too. Donnie, when you inevitably get grounded for this, after your grounding is over, come to my apartment. I'm teaching you literary analysis because that is ridiculous." You get to your feet. "Oh," you say, "before I go, when he grounds you, don't go out. If you get into trouble while you're out, get me, and if he asks why you're tired, say it was a movie marathon, and if he asks which movies, Lord of The Rings. See ya." You run out as you hear the shouts of their father telling them to stop.

You walk back up to the surface via the empty subway tunnel. You had quickly realized that it was infinitely less gross than going through the sewers, and your apartment already smelled enough like raw sewage from the amount of time you had started spending down there. You have considered buying new clothes with your quickly appreciating bank account, but you could not bring yourself to look, even with your new freedom. Maybe it was a lack of motivation? You do not exactly know. More likely is your complete lack of inspiration and faith in your own choices, but what do I know?

You start down the street to your building. You would not go so far as to say it felt like home, but you had become more accustomed to it. You had learned the bellboy’s name, nodded to neighbors. It is not a stunning amount of progress, but it is progress. You spend most of your days now, if not re-watching whatever episode is relevant next, for the first time, cyberstalking people you knew from back home. How courteous of that organization to give you an up-to-date feed of life moving on without you; at least you get to see your cousins.

You do not remember the actual walk. You remember getting to your apartment, walking right by your refrigerator, and collapsing onto the bed.

You feel like shit.

You roll onto your back, going right back to stalking. You are not sure why you bother making yourself feel worse. You tried messaging them to absolutely no avail. You cannot comment on posts, either. You know this. You still grasp onto this shred from your past. It just makes you sad. Why are you doing this to yourself?

You feel a lump rise in your throat. You close the window.

You curl around your pillow, hugging it tightly. You the sound of your fingers against the screen was the only thing to permeate the room. You are following a tangent, looking for a book you were interested in a century ago. Something about a pervert? You forget.

You miss home.

—

You do not even need to look up from your phone; the panting is enough. "I'm going to take a wild guess."

"I know you said to come get you," Donnie gushed, "but it was 2 in the morning and I totally forgot and I was freaking out about this new invention and—"

You set the e-book down, walking over and grasping his hands gently. "Take a deep breath, alright? You're gonna be fine, so long as you chill out and think."

"Baxter Stockman is serious business."

"I know, honey, but you gotta calm down, alright?" You slowly pull him down to sit on the bed.

"He snapped my staff with his freakin hand!"

"You are going to go through at least 2 more of those bad boys. Breathe with me." You inhale deeply. "In."

He mimics you.

"Out."

He follows suit.

"Okay. Are you good?"

His breathing slows. He swallows, nods. "Okay, I'm calm."

"Awesome. Now, I'm gonna give you a mini version of our lesson, alright? Is that okay?" The irony of you trying to calm down the trained ninja is not lost on you.

"Yeah, alright." He nodded.

"Alright. Let's start off with the basics." You sit yourself up properly. "Now, this is a kid's show, right?"

"If you say so, yeah."

"The thing about kids shows is that there's usually a moral to each of the episodes."

"Okay."

You put up one finger. "At the beginning of the episode, you guys got grounded, right?"

He nodded.

"You guys snuck out, and you got into a fight with Stockman. That fight is the reason he's after you, right?" You try to speak relatively clearly and, more importantly, calmly.

"Yeah." He seems to respond relatively positively to this.

"And then,” you continue, putting up a second finger, “Mikey losing the t-pod and not telling anyone is what lead to Stockman getting powerful, right?”

He nodded.

“In both instances, the problem was a lack of transparency, right? Not asking for help for fear of getting in trouble?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you nod with him, “the way to fix this is?”

“To ask for help regardless of whether or not it will get us in trouble with Splinter?”

“Exactly.” You smile encouragingly. “Why?”

“Because that’s the message of the episode?”

“You really are quick to catch on.” You get to your feet. “I’m not surprised you’re the brains of the group.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up.

“Most definitely. Now,” you get to your feet, “as much as I love when we talk, and as much as I owe you a lesson on how to identify these sorts of things on your own, I’m sure your brothers could use that advice right about now.”

“Right!” He gets up. “Thank you, again.”

“My pleasure, my guy. Oh, hit me up when you’re off of your grounding so I can figure out a lesson plan.”

“You got it.” He climbed out of the window. “See you then, Y/N.”

“Kick their asses.” You wave as he disappears into the night.

Your smile slowly slides off your face as you close the window. You pick your phone up to check the time.

You toss it onto the bed. ‘I’m making cupcakes.’ You have not eaten in what feels like a while. You are already out of bed. Might as well.

“She called me honey.”

Raphael rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you, there’s no way that a girl like her is going to be into you. You’re delusional.”

“Honey is a pet name!” Donatello’s voice rises slightly. “And—and she invited me to her place after we aren’t grounded!”

“Let him believe.” Leonardo pipes up from in front of the television. “I think it’s nice that he and she are as close of friends as they are so quick.”

“For the record, I’m rooting for ya, bro.” Mikey takes another bite out of his pizza. “Sure, you’re a little creepy, but so is she, so it works out.”

He scoffs. “Aren’t you three forgetting something? Like, I don’t know, that we’re turtles? Is the fact that she’s an entirely different species not a factor?”

“Part turtle.” He speaks incredibly fast. “Our DNA is mutated with—”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re holding onto that technicality real tight, aren’t you?” He stabs the dummy in the gut. “A technicality that I’m sure she cares about.”

“I did the research.” He gets to his feet, running over and grabbing a diagram from his lab. “We’re physically compatible.”

“Donnie. Brother. No.” He stops. “Please tell me you didn’t seriously look into whether or not you could fuck her. I know you like this girl, but come on.”

“I didn’t go out of my way to research how our reproductive system works for this.” He tosses it back into his lab, sliding the door closed. “I did that research a while back. I just had to investigate reproduction on the female end to make sure everything worked.” He stands up straight. “Theoretically, we are fully capable of reproducing with humans.”

“Theoretically?” Leo looks back at him.

He feels his face go red. “Well, there isn’t any clinical research done on the subject. We’re the only ones of our kind, after all, and I don’t have any female samples to use.”

“For fuck’s sake, Donnie, do not ask her for ‘samples’.” He gags. “That’s just fucking gross.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“You were. I’d bet money on it.”

“Ten bucks says he still will.” Mikey drops the rest of it down his throat.

“Hey!”

“Dude, you’re freakier than I am. I love you but come on.” He lays back on the couch.

“Y’all are just gross.” He stabbed the dummy in the neck, sand pouring out of the hole. “We need a more durable dummy.”

“You could just not break the ones I make.” He sits down on the couch. “That’s an option.”

“It’s a literal punching bag. It’s a show of love.”

The episode ends. Leo walked over to the two on the couch, sitting on the other side of his lanky brother as Michelangelo scrounges for crumbs. “Look, it might be jumping the gun a bit to start researching if you guys can have kids. You guys aren’t even in a relationship.”

“I know.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I dunno, man. What am I doing?”

“Exactly.” He pats him on the back. “I’m not saying it could never happen, but this is a little much.”

He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“We wouldn’t lie to you.” He gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go meditate for a while. You wanna join me?”

“I’m good.” Donnie hopped over the back of the couch. “I’m gonna go work on this thing I’ve been working on.”

“Alright, man.” He walks off to the dojo.

He steps into his lab, sliding the door closed behind him. He sits at his workstation, a half-finished robot sat on the table. He slides his tongue in the space between his teeth absentmindedly as he goes back to connecting wires.

‘She used the past tense. Had, she said.’ He bounces his knee absentmindedly, reaching for the soldering iron. ‘But she called me honey. She called me hot stuff. Is that an insult?” He tests the joints. ‘I don’t remember.’

He sets his project down for a second. He opens his laptop, smiling gently at his screen saver. It is a photo you had emailed him of the two of you to show you how it worked.

‘I should make a camera. Or find one. A digital one.’ He sighs, closing it. ‘She is absolutely gorgeous.’

He goes back to work, still feeling your fingers around his.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

34 notes · View notes

marcsundar · 3 years

Text

The Indie Contemplation

At one am I decided not to write a short story. Plenty of reasons so, I decided to put down the pen and forget about it.

What story could I tell? I mean; that has not been told before? There is no originality left in the world.

There is merely so much regurgitation of the same story template one can fathom. And as an author of tales, there is only so much of the same shit I can commit to a page without feeling completely guilty for doing so. I have a responsibility not to write The Reciprocal Verse (albeit in different words) and pawn it to a new, research-lazy generation.

I decided not to write a short story – due to the fact that I am unassumingly average. There are many writers out there and although I have read many authors who I, in my categorically biased opinion, are significantly worse than I am; I have certainly read better. More successful, patient and learned people. I suspect that my average, mediocre and ordinary tales will simply be another internet shelf product of vast median. Nothing terribly benign; though nor el spectacular neither.

I decided not to write a short story due to the fact that I am in doubt as to whether I can actually write anyway. Writing is a tailored art – tailored to a reader. Why should I write if it is not to be read? My main issue is who is my audience and how can I write to them – if I do not know who this person/persons is/are? I can only write for myself as my audience and reader… but what then for the art of writing when I can merely daydream my stories in a wistful haze?

And on this note, I have decided not to continue writing this short piece due to my overly scientific genetics. My words and sentences are far too structured in the way of me to make an original piece by me. Sadly far more important to my writing than an originality in human kind as a whole. Which is another aspect of this scientific thinking – I should be more artistic or, even, more faithful. Produce writing of inspiration without the need for a coherent structure or ‘my own’ structure which limits everything I do.

I did not write a short story at 1am this morning since I figure my work would not sell. I’d gain no money from the effort and since I need this to live; what’s the point? I’ll stick to the day job I have to get up for in a few hours. Which leaves me little or no time to stick it up on a freebie website somewhere.

Five minutes later I made a coffee – this being a further reinforcement to my desire not to write. It wouldn’t be read; let's be honest. I’d like most of the world to read it and be famed as a writer of the piece. But it won't be.

My full time job dictates that I will not write a short piece of literature on this lanterned night. I have a career – its second best to the lark of being an author; true say but unfortunately that is all it is. A lark (not a business). I may as well ignore the cries of spoilt generations and settle for second best. (Tell Madonna it is not personal.) Tell regurgitative Hollywood (or any other film industry) that I appreciate you like to sell, but on this occasion I cannot buy. My full time job pays and I’m good at it. There is expansion available and I support those whom I love rather than follow my set whim or dream egotistically.

Apologies for this one – but I have decided to shut down my computer and not write a short piece tonight. This is because you the reader will not be important enough. That’s right; you will read for your own pleasure which will give extremely little in return. I won't be there when you read the piece I did not write so I cannot even see the smile on your face right now… importance can be measured by vocation – an agent, publisher etc. and what chance to you being that? I work with statistics in my day job and without boring you with deriving a formula or complex calculation: the probability is very low.

Reminding myself of universal inequality and the fact that clever late Stephen Hawkins thinks there is no such thing as perfection in the universe; I will not write a short ditty. I only really want perfection and since there is none – I cannot appeal to the world and why try myself? It is an impossibility not an improbability. Better efforts spent elsewhere; rather not on the challenge of perfection but the object of leaving a mark..? well if I were the only one then I’d be very special but time has it that I’m not. Future has it that I will be forgotten, regardless.

I have ceased to write a short story this morning, five minutes before I have to get up because I don’t have the time and I cannot be bothered to make the time. I’m lethargic – disdain or hormones or what-have-you.

The issue of putting down a pen has come to fruition due to the explained fact that life will continue. The purpose of a piece of literature should always be to stop life; to make the reader contemplate the end – the point where a piece becomes life or death. Any tears or passion which go into ink is just not quite enough. There is no guarantee of putting the best of oneself; thus the warranty be passed to the author. No point in writing a half-arsed effort just coin produce. Just to – fill the ‘gaps’ between masterpieces. Put in your maximum – none of this ‘I shall save hard core for my bigger, widely accepted, highly marketed project.’ No no! write the best short story that one can expend. Then do it all again for the next and then the next… directly from your heart.

A reason I shall add to my bank for not writing the thoughts I have in my head is the additional chore of having to market my own writing. I can’t just write… I have to market! I need to find an audience and behave in my written word to satisfy them. I’ll need to think outside writing – where to publish my deed; for example. A book in a shop or an online page – a magazine or a note on a social network. I choose, or at least, I must appreciate that someone else takes in the marketing of my short piece. Its not just about writing.

Finally, I’d like to point out a grandiose reason why I will not write a short story tonight… If I did write a short piece right now, I believe that whatever I write may just end up sounding oh so bitter.

#writing

12 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

Photo

SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM | MILO & CHLOE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 10:49 PM SUMMARY: After realising he has run out of money, Milo approaches Chloe and asks her to pay for his drinks. WRITING PARTNER: @chloeinbetween CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, references to emotional abuse, drug manipulation (Leanan-Sidhe kiss), chronic illness

There were a lot of things Chloe hadn’t done for years, banned because the only thing allowed to be a detriment to her health was the fae feeding on her. There were a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to do now either, against medical advice or the general opinions of the town on what wasn’t and wasn’t safe. Drinking a glass of whiskey by herself in a bar that was too dingy to have a crowd on a weeknight probably fell into all of the above. Which was why she was doing it. Her fingers drummed against the sticky linoleum of the bar, looking at messages on her phone that she had no plan of answering. Her old messaging app had kept all the old messages from before she’d been taken, so in her worst moments she scrolled through the texts she’d received demanding to know where she was, and why she’d abandoned them.

It was hardly surprising in pits like this that she didn’t notice the young man sidling up to her curiously. Not until he was much too close. “Can I help you?” Chloe asked, looking him up and down.

Until very recently, Milo had no reason to concern himself with boundaries. The circles he usually ran in had far more important things to worry about, like who had the drugs, and where they were going to use them. He was too used to stumbling, getting close to strangers, or sharing paraphernalia with people he didn’t recognise. Being forced to avoid people, Humans, was new. A habit he was being forced to form. That didn’t mean his other habits, the ones he had been establishing for years, weren’t demanding his attention though. Which was why he had made his way over to a quiet bar, a bar he knew didn’t often draw in the crowds. As depressing as it was to drink alone in a shadowy corner, that’s exactly how he had been spending his night. Up until the moment he had reached into his pocket for the crushed bills he usually kept there and realised they were no longer present. He shouldn’t be surprised, he had been handing them over for hours. But everybody knew running out of money was anxiety inducing, even when you didn’t have habits to maintain.

His bank account was empty, that had been the last of it. He wasn’t stupid enough to assume he counted wrong when he had withdrawn the remainder of his funds. And he hadn’t been to work since his official time of death. He could make a run for it, but even in his inebriated state he knew being chased down and potentially tackled by a bartender would only end in said bartender being drained of blood. There didn’t seem to be many options ahead of him. So instead of eyeing the door, he began to eye his fellow patrons. It was very easy to single out the person least likely to punch him in the face, and he pushed himself out of the booth he had been slouching in, getting far too close before he could hold himself back. His limbs felt heavy, his entire body clumsy, and uncoordinated. But he pushed on. “Yeah, actually-” He insisted, a familiar rush of longing creeping up on him as her scent began to permeate the space. Taking a hesitant step back, he swallowed his craving, willing himself to stay where he was. “You can pay for my drinks.” Maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way of asking the woman for money, but his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity and pathetically, it was the best he could do. Maybe she would take pity on him. “I mean- I’ve probably had the worst fucking month of my life, and I… shit, I mean I have no money. What do you want me to say?”

“Excuse me?” Chloe replied, twisting in her seat to look him over. There was a buzz in her head, but it did nothing to numb the immediate annoyance at his request. If anything, it removed any social insecurity, Chloe was no longer interested in being careful with her words. A fae would be more eloquent than that anyway. She pushed her drink further onto the counter so that she would not knock it, and looked him up and down. There was a loose, chaotic way of his movements, like he didn’t quite know how to hold himself together. He was drunk, drawling, obviously. Her lip curled in disgruntled annoyance. “Why the hell are you at a bar if you haven’t got any money?” Chloe snapped back, looking right back up at him.

“I really don’t see how that’s anyone’s problem except yours. And the bartender’s. How disrespectful do you need to be to expect something like this from other people?” She rolled her eyes pointedly at him. There was another thought, biting at the corner of her mind, after another moment of looking at him, the sentence slipped out before she could stop herself. “Can’t have been too shitty a month if you still have the capacity to make bad life choices.”

Milo knew the moment the woman turned to face him that she wasn’t about to hand over her credit card. Even if it hadn’t been obvious in her tone, it would have been obvious in the way she was looking at him. Letting out a huff of breath in response to the question, it was a sharp reminder of how important it was to take shallow breaths. He didn’t need the oxygen, and breathing in too deeply was only going to put her in danger. Each intake brought with it a wave of tantalising scent. “I had money.” He countered, an edge to his own voice. “I drank it.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would do if somebody approached him and asked him to pay for their drinks. Maybe in the morning her reaction would feel reasonable, and valid. Right now though, in this moment, it was infuriating. It didn’t make any sense.

“And it isn’t disrespectful to be a total dick when somebody asks you for help?” He demanded, twisting the situation to frame himself as someone to sympathise with, someone to feel sorry for. He fell silent again, his eyes narrowing as she carefully observed him. Even with so much alcohol in his system, it made him feel vulnerable, and exposed. He didn’t like it. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, he felt a spark of genuine anger when she eventually commented on his life choices. Did he really look that bad? “Oh, yeah?” He snapped. “You’re here drinking alone too, you know? Seems like we’re both making shitty decisions. I’d like to see anybody go through what I’ve been through and not want to drink themselves into oblivion. Haven’t you ever heard of coping mechanisms? Fucking crutches? Maybe I just need a fucking break.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Chloe replied, matching his edge just as harshly, even though her voice croaked with the effort. There was a way he looked at her that made her skin crawl, like he knew more about her than he should, or that he wanted more than her money. Perhaps what was left of her life, she though, and shook the thought away. He didn’t have the charisma to be like Lydia. He was pitiable. Still a threat, maybe, but under her anger she understood just want this looked like.

There was a knife edge difference between drinking to cope and drinking to lose herself, and Chloe was terrified of landing the wrong edge of the line.

Then he opened his mouth again and her sympathy was quashed immediately. “Only if they’re not a dick in asking for it. You didn’t even ask! You demanded. You look young but not too young to know the difference.” If nothing, her barbed comment only seemed to raise his hackles even further, his voice raising. Her hands curled tightly around the edge of the barstool. “I’m not pissing off anyone else though, am I? I don’t think you’re in a place to throw rocks, dude. Oh fuck off, do you really think you have a monopoly on suffering?”

Milo glared at the woman, irritated by the tone she was taking although he had a feeling he might look back on this conversation and feel it was entirely justified. “I’m trying to make it an us problem.” He muttered, thinking of every time Dani had ever called him a smartmouth. “I didn’t ask for shit.” He added, his glare only growing in intensity. Clearly it had been a mistake to approach her. She must have known he was likely going to ask her for money regardless of how she chose to begin their initial interaction, but technically he was being honest. “You asked if you could help me, and I said yes, you could pay for my drinks. If anything, you offered.”

Noting her voice growing in volume, the last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene. But he also felt as though he had every right to be angry. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “I didn’t come over here to piss you off. I actually have better things to do.” He snapped, running a clumsy hand through his hair as he struggled to reign in his frustration. “You know what? Yeah, I really fucking do have the monopoly on suffering right now. Why do you think I’m even here? I had friends, and a fucking family, and I’m really fucking tired. So forgive me for not realising I was nearly out of cash. And forgive me for thinking that maybe someone might actually take pity on me and offer to help me out. It’s whatever, okay? I’ll fucking go-”

“I’ll remember next time to be clearer with my sarcasm as you don’t seem to get it. I fucking doubt that,” Chloe snarled back, eyes creased in a frown, back straight. She couldn’t say whether it was the alcohol or the attitude that was giving her a headache, but she was pretty sure he was the problem either way. But somewhere in his furious tirade, Chloe heard the hints of something that… well, nothing justified treating people shittily, but something awful, something Chloe understood a little too well.

No friends. No family. Alone in a dark place with an unhealthy coping mechanism and a need to drown your thoughts in a buzz. Chloe hadn’t had access to alcohol for the last few years, but… well, there had been something available to take the edge off. Chloe shivered. “Wait.” She said curtly, jaw flexing, unable to believe she was about to say this. Maybe because in the biting harshness of his features she saw snippets of Todd and Sammy, young lost men who had found the wrong source of comfort in their troubled lives. Chloe already knew it was fantastical to think she could fix things, but if there was a kindness to be offered…. On the other hand, he was an asshole who had pissed her off, so she almost let him walk away just to teach him a lesson. “Just this once, okay? So you don’t end up in jail on top of whatever other shit you have going on. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Maybe don’t engage strangers in conversation and you won’t have to.” Milo countered. She had spoken to him first. He wasn’t about to take responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault. He was just turning to leave, his hands balled into fists, when he heard the woman call out to him. Surprised, but too irritated to show any gratitude, he faced her once again, a frown still fixed firmly in place. He hadn’t been expecting her to change her mind, and he was in too bitter a mood to be honest about just how much the gesture meant. Taking the bills she was handing out to him, he was careful to only take the amount he needed, leaving a few of them behind. There were other ways to find money if he became desperate. Right now, it seemed like the very least he could do to acknowledge she was offering him help. Crumpling them in his hand, he sheepishly caught her eye. He knew he should say thank you, but he was stubborn. Too stubborn to admit he might have been unfair to her. So he left, instead. Without saying another word. Maybe one day he might feel guilty about that fact, but it wasn’t as though he was ever going to see her again. Something, he thought, that might very well be for the best.

#addiction tw #alcohol tw #emotional abuse tw #drug manipulation tw #chronic illness tw #milo & chloe #alcohlism tw #c:chloe

8 notes · View notes

eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 18/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Allan Schrieber Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting, Spiders

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Spiders. Also some unexpected information gives *some* of the archive staff renewed hope.

Chapter 18 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or read here below!

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

“Martin.”

Martin lay in the bed, bleary eyed. Despite how early it had been, he’d fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d laid down after his conversation with Melanie in the hallway bath; he hadn’t even gotten undressed, just crawled under the covers in his clothes. He stayed still, not sure if he’d actually heard Jon say his name or if he had imagined it.

“Martin,” Jon said again, and this time he knew it was real.

“Jon?”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“What are you doing? Why are you—” Jon sounded like he was somewhere near the bedroom door, and Martin couldn’t see a thing. “Turn on the light.” He started to sit up.

“Wait.” Martin froze. Jon had an edge of concern in his voice that made Martin much more nervous than if he were yelling. “Don’t—don’t move. Just listen.”

“Jon, what’s going on?”

“I—I’d rather not say just yet. It’s probably fine.”

“Oh, god damn it. Can you—can you at least—” He sputtered out. Arguing would make this take longer, and that didn’t seem like a good idea.

“You’ll—you’ll be fine. I’m being cautious. Will you trust me?”

“I—do I have a choice?”

Do I ever have a choice?, he thought, but didn’t say out loud.

Jon sighed. “Yes. If you need me to tell you, I will, but—yes.”

Oh. Martin hadn’t expected that answer, and somehow it made not knowing easier. “It’s fine. I trust you.” He knew it came out sulky, like a child agreeing to a chore, but that was the best he could do in the moment.

“All right. Move to my side of the bed, but—stay under the covers.”

“Jesus.” Martin slowly and cautiously did as Jon said, half expecting to make contact with something in the dark, or to feel a weight on the bed, but there was nothing.

“Now—put your feet on the floor. Try not to move the covers too much.”

He swung his feet around under the blankets, slipping them out until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept his hands in the air, not wanting to touch the quilt.

“You’re doing—you’re doing great, Martin. Now stand up. Slowly.”

The drop in his blood pressure reminded him that he had just been woken from a deep sleep; despite standing slowly as Jon asked, he had to concentrate to make sure he stayed steady.

“Now walk toward me—normal, but—slow.”

Martin sighed.

“Please,” Jon said.

“All right, all right.” Martin walked slowly toward the doorway; his eyes were starting to adjust, and he could see the outline of Jon in the dim light from the hallway.

“Stop.” He was probably about five feet from Jon.

“Jon—what is—" Despite the darkness, he was pretty sure he would have been physically aware of anything between him and Jon at this point.

“One big step. One big step, and then—”

Only partially conscious that he was doing it, he looked down.

“Oh shit.” Although he couldn’t see the floor directly in front of him, the hallway light was just bright enough to see a thin, broken line that cut across the floor near the corner of the door frame.

That line was moving. Crawling, in fact.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Martin cleared the remaining distance between himself and Jon in a single leap, heart suddenly pounding. “It’s spiders, isn’t it—shit, shit—”

“Martin, my—”

“Oh. God.” He hadn’t realized how hard he had grabbed for Jon, and he immediately loosened his grip; Jon, still facing the bedroom, continued to hold Martin. “Is that it? Just that? Or is it—”

“I think—I think that’s it. If she were going to do worse, I think she would have done it already.”

“That’s not actually all that comforting.” Martin took a moment to breathe in Jon’s arms and let his heart slow before he looked down at the floor again. Now that he was in the hallway and could see better, he realized the line of spiders was moving away from their room, not into it. He couldn’t help himself; he turned back to the room and flipped on the light.

“Oh.” There were at least a dozen crisscrossing lines of small black spiders moving back and forth across the room; they were on the floor, the walls, the bed. They were walking right over where Martin’s sleeping body had been lying until just now. After a moment he was able to trace their origin to a single spot, a corner of the room where the ceiling and the walls met. They appeared to be coming down from the room above them, although the crack they entered through must have been very tiny.

“Come on.” Jon put his arms around Martin’s waist again, gently pulling him back from the door. He hadn’t quite turned away when they heard a voice down the hall.

“Jon? Martin? Are you all right?” He looked to find Sasha in the hallway, with Georgie not far behind. “We heard shouting and thought we’d—Wait, what is that? Is that—ants?”

Martin noticed that as the line of spiders drew away from their door, they broke off in two directions—one line went into Sasha’s room, and the other went into Melanie and Georgie’s room.

“It’s spiders,” Jon said, in the same calm voice he’d used when waking Martin. “Get everyone else from the—”

“The Admiral,” Georgie said, panicked, and ran to the door of their bedroom. Martin started to shout at her to wait, but Jon put a hand on his chest.

“It’s all right.”

Georgie screamed from inside the room.

“Jon, she doesn’t sound—”

“Georgie?” Melanie burst into the hallway. “Geo—”

“He was eating them.” Georgie came back out, cat tucked under one arm while she brushed furiously at various parts of him with her available hand. “That’s disgusting.”

Martin exhaled, relieved.

“What is going on?” Melanie looked into the room Georgie had just left. “Oh my god. Spiders aren’t supposed to do that.”

“No,” Jon said, continuing to move Martin back toward everyone else. “No, they’re not.”

Elias and Tim had joined the group by the time Jon and Martin reached the middle of the hallway.

“What the hell.” Elias walked past Georgie and Melanie’s room, peering in as he did; he threw open Sasha’s door when he reached it and did the same. He looked back at everyone else as he reached Jon and Martin’s door. “That—that is weird, right?”

“Yes, that’s fucking weird,” Melanie answered. “Jon, this is—this is her, right? The woman that—”

“Annabelle.” He merely acknowledged her name, carefully lending no weight to it. “Yes. Well—I can only assume. She’s—she’s good at concealing herself, but—this seems like a clear message.”

“What’s the message? That she doesn’t like us?” Melanie asked, having turned to swipe at Georgie’s arms as she continued fussing with the Admiral. “Too bad. Let her show her face instead of this nonsense, and we’ll see how she likes us with my boot up her ass.”

Martin stifled an incredulous laugh; the thought was ridiculous. He was reminded that Melanie knew virtually nothing about Annabelle.

“What?” Melanie asked, annoyed. “Did you ever try it?”

“I—I can’t say that I did.”

“Hm. Maybe you should have.”

“Elias.” Everyone looked up when Jon said his name; Elias was walking toward the stairs that went up from the foyer.

“I’m going up to get rid of them.”

“Is that safe?” Sasha asked.

“Well—” Elias spoke more quietly this time. “Allan’s up there too, and since we haven't heard anything from him—I figured it was ok.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “It’s ok.”

“I’ll go with him,” Tim said. They watched as the two of them disappeared up the steps.

“Back to the sitting room then?” Sasha asked. “Until, um—that’s done?”

Martin walked slowly, letting everyone else go ahead so he could have a private moment with Jon. “They really don’t get it.”

“No.” Jon shook his head. “Are you surprised?”

“No,” Martin said, “and I’m glad they don’t. I’m just thinking—that means that message was for you. Us.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so then—why? What is she telling us?”

Jon shrugged. “That she’s aware of what we’re doing. That she knows where we are, and that we haven’t accepted her—truce.”

“OK, but—” Martin swallowed. He still hadn’t bought into her offer, but Jon’s interpretation seemed otherwise valid. “Why didn’t she do worse? That was—that was almost nothing. From her, that was a joke.”

“I’m not sure she could do worse, actually. Not here. Not without me knowing, and possibly exposing herself. She’s likely still recovering.”

“So you think she’s letting us know that she’s still weak? Why would she do that?”

“Who knows. It’s not like it’s made her vulnerable.”

Martin frowned. “That’s not like her, Jon. She’s nothing if not deliberate—she’s always had a reason for everything. If that’s true—if that’s the best she can do, or even if she just wants us to think that—she’s let us know on purpose.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying—I still think she’s trying to push you.” He rushed ahead, trying to get the words out before Jon could tell him he was wrong. “If you know that she’s still getting stronger, that it will get worse, that might push you to act too soon and—”

“Martin,” Jon said, taking him by the hand. “If that is the case—if she’s pushing me—what would you have me do?”

“I’d have you wait,” Martin said. “Just wait. Don’t do what she wants. Whatever comes out of this—give it time.”

“Wait?” Jon repeated. “Give it time, while she gets stronger and murders all our friends? Or worse?”

“No.” Martin tried to sound confident, although he could feel his argument slipping. “No. We’d protect them. You’d protect them.”

“How?” Jon asked. “I can’t. Not after a certain point.”

“But—”

“Never mind. Let’s say we could protect them,” Jon continued. “What about everyone who isn’t them? Everyone she can already reach? Well, her and the Web and the other fears. What about Carlos Vittery and Oliver Banks and—”

“Bad things happen,” Martin said. He knew now that he had lost, but he kept talking. “No, it’s not good. It’s wrong. It’s still terrible. But bad things happen even in a world with no entities, with nothing to live off the fear, with just—”

“Not these things.” Jon turned Martin’s hand over, enveloping it on both sides with his own. “These things—they’re my fault.”

Martin lowered his head. There it was—the conviction he could never shake.

“Martin, look. I don’t know that we have an option other than waiting. I have no intention of—of ending things, not right now. It doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t stop anything. It doesn’t save our friends, not in the end. It doesn’t save you.” Jon traced the tendons on the back of Martin’s hand lightly with his fingers. “But I will never—never—let them out again. And when it comes to that—when it’s time to choose—”

Martin nodded, but did not look up again.

***

As it turned out, it was incredibly easy to destroy the spiders. Tim and Elias had discovered a massive nest in the room above the one Jon and Martin were staying in. Elias had grabbed a supply of insecticide from the attic and they had started to spray, prepared to run when spiders inevitably scattered, but that didn’t happen; they hadn’t diverged from their path at all. That was when Tim and Elias had realized the spiders weren’t just walking out of the nest, but also into it. They were coming back to the second-floor room from one of the bedrooms below, re-entering the nest, and waiting until they received some silent cue that it was time to leave again. The two of them had then stopped and watched as every single spider, without fail, returned to the nest to die in its turn.

“Fucking creepy,” Tim said, after he had recounted it, “but it did make things pretty easy.”

“So,” Sasha said, as they once again found themselves on the floor of the great room. “I take it no one wants to go to bed just yet.”

“Not anymore,” Melanie said. She leaned over Georgie’s shoulder to rub the Admiral’s ears as he sat contentedly in her lap.

“Martin, are you ok?” Sasha asked. His face reddened as everyone turned to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think so.” He’d almost forgotten about the way he’d left the group earlier that evening.

“Do you mind if I ask some more questions, since we’re here?”

“We’re fine,” Jon said, and she redirected her attention to him. Martin was grateful.

“All right. Let’s start with Annabelle. She came here from the other dimension, right?”

“Yes.”

“And so did you—part of you, and Martin, also.”

“Yes. That’s—yes.” Close enough.

“And that’s it? Other than the entities?”

“Yes. I—I believe so. Well, also the—the body.”

“Right. Do you know how that all worked?”

Martin recognized Jon’s expression; it was the one he made while trying to simplify something complicated that already made complete sense to him. “We were connected to them—the entities—us to the Eye, Annabelle to the Web—in such a way that when they were expelled, we were too. Or really, they were expelled, we were dragged along with them.”

“Just the three of you were connected like that?”

“Yes. Our connections were—very strong.”

Sasha nodded. “What about the dimensions themselves? What do you know about them?”

“Not much. I only—saw them, for lack of a better word—for a moment. Or—the equivalent of a moment. Time doesn’t really—never mind. It was—it was a lot. Even for the Eye.”

“So there were very many of them. Dimensions, I mean.”

“Yes. More than I can attempt to describe. Infinite doesn’t—it’s too simple.”

“Are they all like this one? With versions of us, I mean, and—”

“No.” Jon clearly found the idea absurd. “Well—some of them are. But so many more are—different. I think. Different people. And—not people. And then—”

“You know who loves this shit?” Elias sat back on his hands, oblivious to his interruption.

“Um—who?” Sasha asked, after realizing he was waiting for an answer.

“Allan. Allan loves this. He can talk about it all day.”

“Talk about what exactly?”

“You know, alternate universes, wormholes, interdimensional travel—I mean, this is pretty much his thing.”

“Oh my god.” Tim smacked his own forehead with an open palm. “Go get him.”

“Right now?” Elias grew hesitant. “It’s pretty late. Maybe we could—”

“We both know what kind of hours he keeps, and anyway, his light was on when we were upstairs. He’s awake. Just—go get him.”

Elias looked at Jon, who shrugged. “It’s entirely up to you,” Jon said.

Elias hesitated a little longer, then stood up. “All right. Ok.” He disappeared up the stairs.

Sasha turned to Tim. “Care to explain?”

“Allan’s a physics professor. Theoretical physics. And he’s brilliant, and he does love this shit. I mean, he doesn’t really do it at work, it’s not the sort of thing that gets funding unless you’re Stephen Hawking, but—anyway, he’s obsessed with it. Manages to bring it up every time I’m around him. I can’t believe I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh. I suppose maybe he could tell us something helpful. That is, if he doesn’t think we’ve collectively gone mad.”

“Oh, he absolutely will, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t,” Tim reassured her.

Several minutes later, Allan was there. He fit a certain academic stereotype almost perfectly, at least in appearance; roughly the same age as Elias, he was completely grey, and had several days’ worth of beard growth that would have driven Martin crazy. Although barefoot, he was still dressed from the day in a pair of khakis and a rumpled polo shirt, and Martin suspected he might end up wearing them the next day as well if nothing interfered.

“Hello, everyone.” He stood outside the group, awkward but cheerful enough, given the time and circumstances.

Elias stood next to him and pointed out each of them in turn. “So this is Jon, Martin, Georgie, Melanie, Sasha, and—you know Tim.”

“Wonderful,” Allan said, following Elias’s lead in stepping carefully between Jon and Martin to join the semi-circle they had formed on the floor.

“So what has Elias told you?” Sasha asked.

“Not much, only that you are all engaged in a deep conversation regarding the nature of the universe itself, and I thought, it’s only 12:30 in the morning.” He smiled, but the expression quickly faded as he looked around again at the group. “I see we’re tackling the easy questions tonight.”

“Here’s the thing,” Sasha said. “We’re dealing with something that—well, frankly, isn’t all that believable, unless—unless you’ve experienced some part of it.”

“I’ll play along.”

Sasha took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “All right, here goes. Several months ago, a number of very powerful entities from another dimension entered ours, and—they live off our fear. And Jon and Martin sort of—well—versions of them came here, too, and now they’re both of themselves, and they experienced all of this in that other dimension and—well, if we don’t find a solution, then—um—humanity is doomed.”

Allan looked around at the group again; he had a very different look on his face this time. “I’ll admit that’s not exactly what I was expecting—” He looked at Elias, who nodded slowly and then shrugged. “All right. Let’s start with these entities. Tell me about them.”

“Jon, you’re probably the best one to—”

“Yes, all right.” Jon cleared his throat. “Like Sasha said, they are extremely powerful. Just to give you an idea—some people in the other dimension thought of them as gods. They aren’t, of course, but—they aren’t exactly part of our reality, either.”

“So—they had their own dimension as well?”

“No. They were from our dimension—the other one. They were born there, and they co-evolved with us, I suppose. But not really with us, it was—it’s hard to describe. They weren’t—physical, maybe that’s the way to say it. Not in any sense I’m aware of.”

“Hmm.” Allan furrowed his brow. “I assume you mean you couldn’t see them, or touch them. In that case, how did you—well—know about them?”

“We didn’t, for a long time. Most people never did. They acted through things—people, animals, objects—and then, later, I—”

“Jon communicates with them,” Tim interjected.

“One of them,” Jon corrected him. “Insofar as they are separate. And—sort of.”

“Really?” Allan asked. “What’s that like?”

“It’s, um—” For a moment, Martin really understood what Jon had to accomplish when asked to explain things; he could not imagine any single way to sum up Jon’s relationship to the Eye. “Well, for one, I can—I can know things. Things I couldn’t know otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Ask him something,” Elias said.

“All right. Is my research assistant going to show up in the morning?”

“Oh—well—that’s the future. I can’t know that because—well, I assume because it hasn’t happened, and therefore doesn’t actually exist. But”—he thought for a moment— "she didn’t show up today. In fact, the last time she came in was Monday.”

“Ok. From the past, then—what street did I grow up on?”

Jon paused, concentrating. “Technically there were several, but you’re thinking of Church Street. You stayed there a bit longer than the others, and it was the one you liked best. There was a park nearby where you learned to ride a bike.”

“And what was the name of our dog when we lived there?”

Jon concentrated again, a little longer this time. “There wasn’t one. But you had—rabbits. Hm.”

Martin decided to intervene, as he was pretty sure Jon would keep going until he hurt himself. “Ok, look, this does take a toll on him, and tonight’s already been hard enough.”

“I’m fine.” Jon looked at Allan, who was regarding him with renewed interest. “Anything else?”

“That’s more than enough. I’m—I’m quite impressed.”

“Oh,” Elias said, “also we found my body in the tunnels under the Institute the other day. Well, not my body, but—you know, my body from the other dimension.”

Allan looked at Elias with concern. “Ok, I’m—I’m not sure what to do with that, but—ok. We’ll come back to it. So these beings, they’re not from another dimension, and you can’t physically interact with them—not directly. But you—and maybe others—can interact with them, say, mentally, and they can influence the physical world.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

“What I’m getting at is that everything that makes up the universe—everything we are aware of—is classified as either matter or energy, and the two are equivalent in a sense. Well, there’s also evidence of dark matter and dark energy, but—never mind about that for now. And although there’s been no evidence of it, it isn’t impossible that there could exist some sort of life form that, rather than being made up of physical matter, is made primarily of energy.”

“Oh. That’s what a lot of people think ghosts are,” Melanie said.

Allan nodded. “Of course, there are some problems with the idea of energy beings. For one thing, energy, as we define it, is always associated with motion and change. Light, for example, which has no mass, transmits energy as a function of its momentum alone—but it must always be moving. Or we can define potential energy, which does not require momentum, but is always associated with a physical body. And for energy itself to be sentient in any way—well, it’s not clear how that would work. If there were sentient energy beings, they would be so different from us that it’s unlikely we would recognize them at all, except through the ways in which they interacted with the physical world. That sort of goes along with what you’ve said so far, as I think about it, but—tell me, when they left the other dimension and traveled here, was there any sort of medium involved? Some sort of physical matter?”

“Yes,” Martin said, surprised that he knew an answer. “The tape.”

“The tape?” Tim asked. “What tape? Like—sellotape?”

“No, like cassette tapes. The actual tape inside them. There was—”

“You didn’t mention that before.”

“Well look Tim, there was a lot to explain, ok? And that was—”

“It’s fine,” Tim said. “Go on.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Allan said.

“Yes. Tape. Um, so—there was a crack, a gap, in our reality that led to the—the space between the dimensions, so to speak. That seems to have been a natural occurrence—”

“It’s possible,” Allan said.

“—but the tape, that was—that was something Annabelle did. The recordings on the tape were—relevant to the entities. It allowed them to bridge the gap without destroying themselves. It was—I honestly don’t know how she—”

“Annabelle put spiders in our upstairs guest room, by the way,” Elias said. “That’s why Tim and I were up there earlier.”

Again, Allan looked at Elias with concern. “You’ve been having a time of it, haven’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Elias said. “Sorry for not mentioning it sooner.”

“Quite all right,” Allan said. “This does explain some things. Just so long as you know you could have told me.” He looked at Elias a little longer before turning back to Jon. “Annabelle, she’s—one of them?”

“No, but she—she serves one of them.”

“So she is a physical being that they act through.”

“That’s—yes.”

“All right. So let’s see—this gap existed, the physical medium of the tape was placed there—how did they get to it?”

“Well—I suppose—we destroyed their other physical means of attachment to our world, and they were forced out the only way they could go. Into the gap.”

“How did all of that happen, exactly?”

“Well—you have to understand, there was an apocalypse, things had shifted, time and space didn’t necessarily—” Jon sighed. “Gas main. We blew up a gas main.”

“Oh.” He now gave Jon the same look of concern he had given Elias earlier, and the conversation momentarily quieted.

“This is—this is good,” Sasha said. “I mean—it’s good to have another perspective on this. Thank you.”

“Well, quite honestly, I’m not sure what to make of it, but—” He stopped. “You all really believe this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sasha said. “And if you don’t mind humoring us a bit longer—well, the reason we’re all in your house, and perhaps this is obvious, but—given that we do believe these entities are here, we’d like them not to be here.”

“Understandable. It would be bad for us, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. So let’s say that we were able to—push them back toward this gap again, somehow. Would there be a way to—direct them? Make them go somewhere specific?”

“Hm.” Allan rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. “Without really knowing more about them, but assuming we’re on the right track—I’m guessing we’d need access to the tape. Think of the way a wire conducts electricity. If they are sentient in some way, maybe they could choose their path along it, but—”

“I see.” Sasha frowned. “Jon, is that—is that even a possibility? Getting to the tape?”

“No,” Jon said. “I don’t—I don’t think so. Not for us.”

“Right.” Sasha, who had been crossing her legs, moved to stick one of them out in front of her. She took a moment to flex her foot, and then straighten it again. “Ok, what about this? And please understand, I have no idea how any of this works and I’m only throwing out ideas—could we move everything else? Like us? And leave them here? I mean—Jon and Martin came here, and Annabelle came here, and—the body.”

“Maybe,” Allan said.

“What—really?”

“Well—assuming this is all true, then it’s already been proven that physical matter can be transported from one dimension to another, because—like you said, it’s been done. Of course, the situation would be reversed from what we were just talking about. If energy requires matter to move across dimensions, matter most likely requires energy. In fact, I’m certain it would. Moving across dimensions is not the same as moving across space, of course—but the principle would be the same.”

“How much energy?”

“I can only assume enormous amounts.”

“Like—I don’t know, a nuclear bomb?”

“Well, how much mass are you talking about?”

“Humanity. The world.”

“A nuclear bomb would be a mere drop in the bucket. It would barely register.”

“Hm.”

The group fell silent again. Martin didn’t really know how to feel about any of this; he imagined the others were feeling the same. Allan’s thoughts on all of it made sense, at least as far as he understood them. In the end, though, it didn’t really present any new options, did it? Messing with the tape was almost certainly impossible given that Jon, even when his power had been at its height, was lost within seconds of trying to know its path. And the way Allan had described the amount of energy required to move everything else and leave the entities behind—even if they had some idea of how to do it, that was just too much, right? Could that much energy even exist?

“I might have a way,” Jon said quietly.

It only took Martin a moment to understand what Jon was suggesting.

“No,” he said firmly. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What just happened?” Tim asked.

Neither of them responded.

“Please,” Sasha said. “If there’s something—obviously we need to consider anything very carefully, but—if there’s a possibility—any possibility—”

“I could start another apocalypse.” He met Martin’s eyes; Martin looked back at him in disbelief.

“Ok,” Sasha said. “I have to say, I’m not sure how that helps.”

“When I—started it, before—when I said the words, and they—” Martin could see how hard Jon was working to hold back the misery of it, to hide the guilt and the torment he’d carried with him since that day. Martin’s instinct was to reach for him, to stop him before he crumpled under the weight of it, but at the same time he wanted it all to come out. It wasn’t that he wanted Jon to hurt; it was that he wanted them to see it, to understand how stupid this was. He wanted Jon to break now, just a little, so he wouldn’t destroy himself later. “When they entered our world, in that moment, the sheer amount of power they brought with them—it was—”

Martin lost it. “And what, you’re going to control it? Jon, that’s insane. Even the idea is—”

“Jonah did,” Jon answered. “Jonah controlled it, before he—where do you think that ridiculous tower came from? Jonah Magnus, king of a ruined world. Do you think the Eye gave a shit about his ego? Jonah made that world, Martin. He laid out the domains, preserved his own place in them just so he could—”

“Jon—"

“—and if I take his place in the ritual and retain the role of the Archivist, I believe I could—”

“No. Don’t even say it. It is way, way too—”

“All right,” Sasha broke in. “Stop. I’m sure I’m not following all of this, but you are talking about deliberately starting an apocalypse and—somehow using it? I take it the apocalypse wouldn’t actually take place, then?”

Jon considered. “Well, it would, but everyone would be—somewhere else. If I succeeded, no one would ever know it happened. And the entities would be left here to burn themselves out.”

“And if it failed?”

“If I failed, then that would be it,” Jon said. “There would be no going back. The opportunity would only exist for a moment.”

“That does sound incredibly risky.” Martin was briefly relieved; surely that would be the end of it. “But on the other hand—”

“What?” Martin’s desperation tumbled out of him. “You can’t be serious. It’s too much. It’s too dangerous.”

“Just—listen, Martin. Please. No, actually—all of you, listen. We are making no decisions tonight. We don’t understand this well enough. But if this is even a possibility, I think we have to consider it. It’s the only option we’ve come up with so far that doesn’t end with spreading the fears or sacrificing literally everything in our world. Everyone else—what are your thoughts?”

Uncomfortable silence pervaded the group; Melanie was the first person to speak. “I don’t know. It sounds like a lot could go wrong. And don’t take this the wrong way, but—it puts an awful lot of— pressure on Jon.”

“Yeah,” Georgie said. “I agree. I’d want to be a little more certain about—well, a lot of things, but like— what does that even look like, moving everything to another dimension? I mean, given what happened with Martin and Jon—well, if we didn’t just blow ourselves up or something, we wouldn’t want to crash land on top of a world filled with our own doubles, for example. Or end up somewhere worse.”

“Yes,” Sasha said. “We’d need to know a lot more—as much as we can. Allan, is there—is there any way to—I don’t know, check on any of this?”

Allan looked like he had been run over. “Keeping in mind, of course, that this is all very—um—”

“Yes. We know.”

“—I’m willing to do what I can. It sounds like the place to start would be wherever this supposed gap is. Do you happen to—”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “Hilltop Road. In Oxford.”

“All right. I’ll go in the morning. I’ll cancel my classes for tomorrow. I’ll take anyone else with me who wants to go. We’ll stop by the university and pick up some equipment on the way out. Let’s say 8 am.”

“Thank you. That’s—that’s very helpful. Anyone else? Any thoughts?”

Elias shook his head.

“Tim?”

“Well, just that—” He looked around at everyone, then shook his head once. “Never mind. It will wait.”

“Fair enough. All right. I know tonight has been a lot for everyone. Too much, really. We should sleep. Is everyone comfortable going back to their rooms?”

There was another bout of silence, and again Melanie was the first to speak. “I am if Georgie is.”

“Why not,” Georgie said, standing as she carefully balanced the Admiral in her arms. “I sort of doubt this one would let us sleep through another midnight buffet. Ugh.”

“Jon? Martin? What about the two of you?”

Jon reached for Martin’s hand; he didn’t pull it away. “We’ll be all right.”

“Martin, I’m sorry for—”

Martin turned away, and Sasha let her apology drop off. He heard Jon say something quietly to her, then accepted Jon’s encouragement to get to his feet. Sasha would have to forgive him later. He could tell they were still talking, although their words had become indistinguishable to Martin. He could hear Tim’s voice; somewhere behind him, Allan and Elias were having an exchange.

“Come on.” Jon’s voice, close to him. Martin’s body ached as if from a low-grade fever as they walked. It was a relief when Jon shut the door of the bedroom behind them, turning off the light that had been left on earlier. They faced each other in the dark.

“Martin—"

“No.”

“I know how you feel about this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you do. It just doesn’t matter.”

“Please.” Jon reached for him; Martin allowed him to turn his head, but would not let his eyes follow even though neither of them could see. “What if this—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. Not you.”

“All right.” Jon kissed him. Martin responded simply because he needed it; he needed the comfort. He wanted Jon close to him, and always would. He was too exhausted to fight it.

“Can you sleep?” Jon asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Just lie with me, then?”

He nodded, his forehead pressing against Jon’s in the dark.

Jon held him, and Martin lay awake for a long time.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

2 notes · View notes

zerot0all · 4 years

Text

Gold Throne | M

Stray Kids- Mafia!Bang Chan

M- vulgarity, violence & smut

.CHAPTER ONE.

It was obvious this was a miracle, as he walked out of the state penitentiary with the same clothes he went in 3 years ago for a crime he didn’t commit. Dark jeans and a t-shirt , which have been washed to a point of fading. His sentence cut short for some odd reason, but even though he was breathing freedom , something didn’t settle well with him.

He tried his best to shake the feeling , ignoring it as he waited outside the large gloomy building. Saying his last farewells to the hell he lived within. His bones rattled with an unknown sense that made him glance once more down the empty dusty road. The place was deserted, seeming more like a ghost town than anything else. But as he almost lost hope, he spotted a truck in the distance, slowly approaching.

Pulling up to him, he finally took a deep breath as a familiar face made an appearance.

“I hope you showered, the interior is new.”

“Bin, you know damn well I didn’t , this place is a shit hole… now open the door.”

Changbin unlocked the door, letting the eerie old friend take his rightful place on the passenger side. It was silent for a few minutes , as the music took over the empty space till Changbin spoke.

“Look, Christopher-”

“God, don’t use my full name. Just Chris. Chris is fine. Christopher reminds me of the reason why I ended up in that hell hole.” He complained, unable to look towards Changbin, but he continues after he clears his throat.

“Okay, uh Chris … my place is available for you to stay but I’m moving next month since my lease is up, so..”

Changbin confesses, gripping the steering wheel , afraid of what’s to come.

“It’s all good. I have a plan.” Chris added quickly , his eyes still glued to the dirt road and the bright sun which was now descending behind the mountains. He was deep in thought , not listening to Changbin.

“You leaving town?” Chris suddenly brought up, his head still a mess of thoughts catching Changbin off guard as he went on with a random story.

“Oh no, I’m finally moving in with my girl.” He gushed , smiling from ear to ear as he spots the photo of her on his dashboard. Chris , still lost within his own thoughts, was proud of his friend.

“That’s good man. I’m happy for you.”

Chris said, and even though he was truthfully pleased, he couldn’t come to terms with it.

Happy endings don’t exist… not in this lifestyle.

Chris was very secretive, always has been. The life before being locked up was one he wishes to never speak about ever again. It’s caused such torment to him, that he feels it’s best if no one gets close to him.

Not now. Not ever.

“Mr Bang, I am sorry to inform you that your loan has been denied.”

“Denied. Are you sure? Can you check again , please?” Chris begs the loan officer at the bank once more. Hoping. Begging for anything at that moment. Tapping his fingers on the wooden desk, nerves up in knots, he tried to keep his calm.

“Your information was lacking in some areas, most of which are because you have a criminal record.” The older lady says carefully , fearful of Chris as he slumps back into the seat. Taking deep heavy breaths , he nods, abruptly getting up to leave.

All hope was lost. That was the 8th bank he’s visited and they have all denied him. What was he thinking. Who in their right mind would give him a chance?

“Hey,”

He’s an ex con. He’s been free for a week or so , and already life has given him shit.

“Hey, sir.”

His thoughts were getting the best of him as he stormed out of the bank, finding the sky darkening daring to rain as he began a brisk walk.

“Hey. Hello.”

A small voice finally broke through his erratic thoughts , causing him to stop and turn on his heel. Meeting the the top of a petite young girls head.

“I … heard you… in the bank.” You finally spoke up, lifting your head to meet a strange mug on the man's face. Taking deep breaths , you smiled.

“I heard that you needed a loan,” you say chipper than usual, meanwhile he just looked at you. His brows raised in confusion about where you came from and how. Chris glanced up and down the sidewalk, maybe wondering if you were lost or something.

“And you are?” He finally spoke, his voice thick but the second his accent hit your ears, you became mush. He was handsome , that’s no doubt but that’s not why you rushed out behind him.

“Oh right, silly me. Hi, I’m y/n and I can help you.” The words that left your mouth seemed nice, sweet but the face of disgust that he made after wasn’t what you were expecting. Rolling his eyes , he turned around and began walking away, back to what he was doing before you caught up to him.

“Hey, wait…” you holler after him, suddenly grabbing his arm to bring him to a halt.

“Where are you going? Didn’t you hear me, I can help.” You repeat your statement, only again having him roll his eyes at you. He seemed … tired. The bags under his eyes didn’t help but the desperate look in those exact eyes made your skin crawl.

“And what makes you think I’m going to listen to a little girl who was eavesdropping on a grown up conversation.” He spat back, almost laced with venom. But you shook it off.

“First of all, I’m an adult. Second, you’re an asshole and lastly, I’m your only hope.”

You stood your ground proudly, watching as his eyes ran up and down your frame. Taking in your appearance, from your feet to your hips , to your chest- which he lingered on a little too long , then finally your smile. It was like a switch had turned on then off , as his own lips ticked , wanting to smile back. You saw the fight within him , needing to stand back and away from you. It was easy to read him, for the most part.

“What makes you think you’re my only hope?” He asks, taking a step back. Placing his hands into his pockets , seeming as calm as ever.

“Because, unlike these banks , I help those in need… especially those with a criminal record.” A quick cock of your brow and he was shocked. His eyes grew with the realization that you did hear everything that he said in the bank, but it still didn’t settle well with him. He wasn’t sure if it was the way your eyes twinkled up at him or the way you smiled. Something about you felt right to him , but he knew nothing good ever lasts, especially for him. But being that you were indeed his last hope , he couldn’t do anything but agree.

“Oh I’m going to regret this later,” you hear him whisper to himself , even though he seemed to be against it, you were more than ready.

“What’s your name?” You finally ask, already knowing the answer.

“Chris.” He replies.

“Well Chris, I bet you haven’t had a nice warm meal in a while huh? Come on, I’m buying.”

Maybe it was the way you said those words , but something inside of Chris finally clicked. He didn’t say much. He just nodded and followed. The walk down the street wasn’t long till you came upon your favorite diner, you greeted the chef and owner, asked the waitress how her newborn was , all the while Chris was taking it all in. Your confidence, your stride of power , your ability to lift spirits even after stepping foot through the front door. He sat amazed. Even after ordering your usual, and you letting him eat whatever his heart desired , he was still standoff-ish.

“So down to business, why do you need the loan?” You finally asked as soon as you were finished with your meal, Chris was on his second plate but he washed it all down with some water.

“I ... I want to open an auto body shop.” He said almost too quietly, you glanced up from your coffee hoping he would keep talking but you caught him looking out into the streets. Cars sped by as people walked along the sidewalk minding their own business , maybe he wanted to be like them? You wondered how long he was away for and what was the crime he committed but as you looked at the way his eyes watched the outside world , it didn’t seem like he was too fond of it.

“You like cars , nice. Fast cars. Race cars?”

He shook his head.

“No, the classics. I grew up fixing antique cars. My mom owned a 1959 Cadillac, I know there’s not many people out there who work on them but I feel like I’m one of the few.” You were able to hear some pride in his voice, a shy smile suddenly coming alive on his face. His lips twisted and soon enough , you were able to see a tiny glimmer in his eyes. Quickly enough, you pulled out your phone. Doing some research before you agreed , the price for a classic antique car ... to your surprise was a hefty amount of money. You saw the possibility of this working out , maybe deal with a few car shows here and there , get him noticed. The conversation became detailed , thinking of locations for his shop. Who he would want to be his partners or sponsors. The only difficulty you seemed to foreshadow was his work ethic , there is so much trust you can give to a person before you know how they actually function. And even though this was your decision, your choice , you couldn’t help but lend him your arm.

“Okay, enough about me. Why are you doing this?” He questions once the general details have been worked out. But you sit , and ponder. Thinking back to the main reason you started this in the first place ... a reason he can never really know the true identity of.

“Sometimes the people that go to jail happen to be good people... making bad mistakes. And it ruins their lives. Having the stamp of ex con is like a collar , a permanent chain around your neck that never lets you live. No one helps them out , no one even tries. And sometimes all they need is one small push in the right direction.” You say, watching as your mug gets filled once more. The rich smell of fresh brewed coffee always seems to clear your mind. Being lost in thought , Chris clears his throat bringing you back to reality.

“I just think people always deserve a second chance in life.” You finish, sending a frail smile his way. Chris was skeptical, lifting a brow at your words. You can see the doubt bounce around his features, trying to decipher your words.

“Have ... you ?” He carefully suggest , causing you to shake your head abruptly.

“Oh no , no , no. I’ve only heard stories.” You answer rather quickly , blinking back the fear of him asking more questions.

“You know, no matter how strange today has been , it was pretty cool meeting you.” Chris said , not once looking in your direction, his eyes glanced around the small diner, watching a family in the corner booth share a strawberry smoothie. He smiled, enjoying the view. But as he admired the family , you admired him. Chris ... was broken. But a man who is broken would never ask for help, let alone have someone like you convince him in your wild ideas. It was insane , to say the least , the way this was working out. He was going to be your first experience and you were willing to help him out no matter what. And even though the both of you held deep dark secrets, you had a good feeling about him.

“Can I ask you another question?” Chris leaned into the table, crossing his arms as you did the same. He was suddenly curious, and you knew it was bad timing. You could sense it in your bones as he licked his lips.

“Where’d you get the money?” He was curious, lifting a brow as a sinful grin took over his face. But you didn’t let his mannerisms get the best of you, sitting back , your eyes sharply burning a hole into his spirit, you replied.

“I used to be daddy’s girl, especially when I was in college. Whatever I wanted , I got. Then, I dropped out and I was quickly disowned... I’ve been smart and invested. But that’s all you need to know.” You finished confidently, winking at him. Chris didn’t buy it , not entirely but he nodded being somewhat impressed with the story. The silence that which grew after that , was your cue to head out.

“What now?” Chris gestured to the bill which was dropped off, you immediately paid the waitress, plus a nice tip before you took your phone out.

“Now, you go home and rest up. We will meet tomorrow and start the real process... do you have a phone?” You asked , feeling like an idiot but with a slight shrug of his shoulders you knew the answer. You quickly wrote down an address on a napkin and handed it to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Chris.” You say with an adorable smile, heading out and leaving the strange man alone at the diner. He needed some time to think things over , you already knew that , because no matter how flawless your plan was, it was still too good to be true.

But maybe you should start counting your blessings , because as you got into a taxi, a black Cadillac with blacked out windows parked a few feet away and something about the chill that ran up your spine felt familiar.

Too familiar to ignore.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Chapter 2 is out NOW!

#admin ms #stray kids #stray kids bang chan #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenerios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #stray kids series

307 notes · View notes