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lemonjoonah · 3 years

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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orphicrose · 3 years

Text

The Only One

Rick x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : life is strange in the rick and morty universe, as we all know. But things get just that little bit weirder when Rick meets you. Something seems oddly familiar with you, but for once In his life he has no idea why. So he searches from reality to reality to try and see if he had met another version of you, only to realise there where none. You where the only one. That’s when it finally hit him…

This is inspired by a song from Rick and morty that I think is beautiful https://youtu.be/epiOcz3HXNo

I accidentally got carried away and wrote too much, so I will probably just do a part 2 so it’s not to much to read if anyone is interested <3

_________________꧁♥︎꧂_________________

Humans are such fragile creatures, always have been and always will be. You knew that, but you refused to surrender down to it. Not wanting to be included In whatever earth had to offer, so you ran away. And not like how a silly fourteen years old runs away from home, Hah… no.

You left the fucking planet, not leaving behind a single trail or speck of dust for someone to follow you with. Your intelligence and ambition was all you needed to carry yourself through life. Travelling the infinite void of space, soon making a name for yourself. For good and for bad. An ordinary person couldnt even dream nor comprehend the things you’ve experienced or seen. And that’s just how you liked it. Being different. It was truly a gift to be intelligent.

And then there was rick, high IQ and normally not happy about it. Seeing his intelligence as a curse. Rick hadn’t seen it all, it was impossible, but he thought he had seen enough to make a valid opinion on life.

It’s pointless.

Such a bitter man with a bitter view on everything, including himself. You see, when you have an overwhelming amount of knowledge weighing down on your mind, you can go two ways. The first being ricks way, not caring about anything since he has seen how big the universe is and doesn’t see a point.

Then there’s your way, feeling blessed to be able to see things that no one else can, and finding a new reason to live every single day.

You two where polar opposites, but also the same. You where both alone in a universe you felt didn’t need you anymore.

The day both of your worlds collided should have been written down in the history books. It was the day both of your beliefs where almost questioned. Wondering whether fate really does exist.

————————————————

Out of the many things you have done, you’ve never visited the same place twice. Making everyday an adventure, as much of a cliche as that sounds it’s true. Not only that, but you seem to have people after you almost everywhere. For your intelligence, or for revenge. But there is one particular spot you cannot get enough of. Finding yourself there when you lose yourself.

It’s an isolated planet in the middle of the andromeda galaxy. It’s a newly ‘emerging moon’ as you like to call it. In fact, you pretty much founded this planet, since its a recent creation. This also means there is no intelligent life yet evolved, so it is safe for you to do what you please.

You go there often, to watch the two suns set over its small horizon and the thousands of stars come into view. Giving you time to reflect on your life. To appreciate it, but not to regret anything. The stars are far to beautiful to bring your mind to anything negative. The planet itself seems to project the meaning of peace and tranquillity even without life. Maybe that’s why it’s so comforting.

Your thoughts where leaving your mind, as you held your eyes closed. Feeling the breeze brush through your hair gently. That beautiful, genuine smile found its way to your face without you noticing. You where to lost in the feeling of relaxation.

But that soon came to an end. That euphoric state was snapped out of you when you noticed a bright light coming towards you. Getting bigger and bigger in just seconds. Until it became more clear, it was a spacecraft of some sort. A poorly built one to say the least. You sat and watched, mesmerised, as the flames from the object slowly engulfed it. Burning in the atmosphere. Finally hitting the ground, you shook your head and sighed. Being brought back into reality.

The flames took a second to fade after the ship had crashed. And it was clearer to see, it was the stereotypical UFO. The type you’d see in cheesy ski-fi films. But it had encryptions written in English. Which was very unusual, especially for it to be in this part of the galaxy.

What was even stranger was that it didn’t have even the slightest burn mark to it’s metal. Your vision of it became clearer and clearer the closer you got, slowly creeping past the incredibly green trees towards it. But just before you got too close, a figure fell out of the vehicle. Swearing like a drunken sailor.

This is what really messed with you, it was a human. You gasped quietly, not being able to remember the last time you saw one. A mix of feelings rushed over you; confusion, fear, excitement? You couldn’t help but stare, his unique blue hair bounced as he picked himself up, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his lab coat.

“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit spacecraft. You’ve really done it this time Rick you fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he kicked the lump of metal. Screaming at the top of his voice.

“Fuck!”

You caught a small glimpse of his face, and recognised him. But you weren’t sure where from. You had met millions of people over the years so he could really be anyone. But there was something so compelling about his character. Something that felt like you where being pushed towards him. Or pulled, by a red string perhaps. Something that was just telling you to interact with him.

You stayed hidden behind a rather tall tree, still collecting your thoughts and questioning whether you should help him. Rick had slumped himself against the ship, putting his hands to his face and grunting. Pausing his breakdown for a second to take a sip from his flask, then proceeding to carry on.

He stayed like this for a good few minutes, before you had decided to approach him. Your curiosity and questions where burning at the edge of your mind. You just had to investigate. Keeping a hand on your weapon tucked neatly in a pocket behind your back. You slowly walked towards him, not even being able to speak before he noticed you.

A gun had been pulled to you, aiming directly between your eyes

“What do you want? I’m not in the mood so just tell me in advance if I should shoot you or not..” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the hand tucked behind your back.

You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up in surrender. Just how you remembered humans to be. Aggressive and impulsive.

“Calm down, I saw your ship crash. Thought you where in need of some assistance. And put that gun down, god…” to your surprise, he did. With a loud grunt he put his gun back into his pocket and turned away. Usually, he probably would’ve shot on site. And who’s to say he still won’t, but right in this moment he is too preoccupied to care.

“God doesn’t fucking exist…” he mumbled “and I definitely don’t need any assistance!”

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him as he attempted to fix his broken ship. Opening the lid to the engine and being greeted by a storm of smoke. Now Seconds away from another breakdown.

“Are you… okay?” You hesitantly asked, daring to inch closer to him. Probably was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He threw the wrench down at the engine as he exploded.

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I lost my grandson, the entire galactic government is after me, I broke my portal gun and I just crashed my ship into a planet with no helpful resources to fix it.!” His speech sped up, and he went dead silent when he stopped talking. Clearly regretting telling you anything. He is usually good at keeping his mind together and keeping his problems to himself. But he had so much adrenaline pumping through his blood, he could barely concentrate.

“I’m, i’m sorry for your loss” is all you managed to get out

“What? Oh no, my grandsons not dead. I just left him somewhere and forgot exactly where…” he spoke slightly softer, still grunting as he tried to analyse his engine.

There was a small silence while you processed everything he had just said. Moving closer to get a look at his engine, you shook your head.

“You’ve burnt it out…”

“Yeah, no shit smart ass” he bit at you

You rolled your eyes and snatched the spanner from the place he had dropped it. Not using it to fix his engine, but you pulled out a small metal box from your pocket instead. Fixing a few pieces together. Rick stood there and watched with a puzzled look on his face. Moving his eyes from the gadget, then up to get a look at you.

His eyebrows softened as he took in your features, the creases in his forehead disappeared. A rush of a strange feeling replaced the adrenaline, not being able to pinpoint what it was but he didn’t like it. He could only describe it as his heart softening, and getting lost in a place that was familiar to him. Thats what he felt when he looked at your eyes, reflecting off of his.

“Hav-have we met before?” He said in a much calmer tone

You placed the gadget on the engine and pressed a small red button on the top, looking up at him.

“I don’t think so?” The box moved around the engine, like a shield. Fixing it effortlessly, Ricks eyes darted from you, to the engine, then back to you. Now with amazement written all over his face.

Deja vu was the only state good enough to describe what he was experiencing. You broke the silence by holding a hand out to introduce yourself.

“I’m y/n”

It took a quick second for him to respond, still trying to process your face and remember how he knows you.

“I’m… Rick” he finally shook your hand.

“Rick Sanchez..”

That name was oddly familiar to you. Like you’d heard it in a dream. Or it was a loved ones name in a past life. You felt like you had heard it before, in a very distant memory. But no recollection of the connection.

“That seems…familiar” you tilted your head, squinting your eyes at the old man who gave you the same look.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew me. I am the smartest man In the universe”

#rick sanchez #morty smith #rick x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fantasy #fanfic #headcannons #spacecraft #rick and morty #ocs #a lot of words #a lot of work #comedy #romance

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby

Day 20: New Fashion Trend Ransom?

Warnings: Bad Language Words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: Everything is Ransoms enemy. @what-is-your-plan-today, @jennmurawski13 and I have proved that. No matter how hard he tries.

Series Masterlist

Ransom had just poured himself a scotch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table while he used the remote control to flick through the thousand stations on the TV. Of course it seemed like every single one was blasted with commercials of some kind, making him scowl at the predicament. “Fucking 200 stations and not a god damn thing on.” He sputtered till he hit a game, which made him pause.

Lakers vs Celtics, he had money on this game so he decided he might as well see how it played out. Of course the money he put on the Celtics would be going straight into the kids college fund, he already promised that any gaming money was going to college funds, private school funds, that whatever his kid needed funds. Didn’t bother him any, it made you happy and he still got that gambling thrill that he sought from his old lifestyle he mostly had given up.

Sure it mellowed out, his playboy lifestyle since he met you. But would he give it up? Fuck no, you were probably the only person who ever gave a actual damn about him and once he accepted it, well he found he really liked it. Liked mattering to someone, and not just be some asshole prick people tolerated.

Plus now you were pregnant, which he couldn't get enough of honestly when you were feeling good. To watch the little changes happening, knowing you were growing his son, well at first it scared the shit out of him, not going to lie. Ransom Drysdale a father? His own had been a disaster, he was just striving to be better than any of his family. To actually give a shit.

That's why he tried to do as much as he could for you, attend all the appointments, make sure you wrote down the chores you needed taken cared of. He even attempted cooking for you, but that was proving a challenge. He would get it though, cause fuck it he wanted to spoil you. Another first for him, wanting to make someone happy before he was.

Soon he was engrossed in the game, sitting on the edge of the seat while waving his hands. “Come on, down the court! Down the court!” He yelled and you crossed through the room, slipping on your coat.

“Hey Ransom, whoo hoo, Ran.” You called to get his attention, and he sprang up, hitting the off button quickly almost like he got caught watching something he shouldn't have been.

“What's up… where the hell are you going?” He asked once he faced you, taking in your appearance.

“I got a check up Ransom.” You say as you double check your purse for the things you needed, one hand resting against the over sized bump stretching before you now.

“Oh, I can drive, let me just get some shoes on and a coat.” He started and you shook your head before he could walk away.

“Oh you don't have to go to this one Ransom. Dr.Sitwell is just giving me some information and diet restrictions for the pregnancy.”

Ransom seemed to stall, unsure about letting you go alone. “You sure? Cause I promised you Princess I would go to all the appointments and such. Plus you are huge now and what if something happened?”

You scowled at his comment, flipping him the bird. “Don’t forget who did this to me. Fucking huge?”

Ransom rolled his eyes, hands falling to his hips. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You are so far along now, I don’t want anything happening to you.”

You shook your head at your idiot husband, knowing his mouth spoke typically before his brain had the sense to process his words. “Remind me why I married you again Ransom? I appreciate the offer, but I have a small honey-do list I really need help with instead. And besides, I promised to go out to lunch with Meg afterwards.”

“What does the little liberal bitch want to complain about now?” he said with zero affection in his voice towards his cousin.

You scoffed and smacked his chest slightly. “Ransom that is your cousin, be nice.”

“What? I was being nice Y/N.” he rubbed at his tee shirt he was wearing, scowling at you.

“She invited me, and I said that I would love that. If you're lucky, maybe I will bring you back something.” You walked away towards the door to slip on your shoes, Ransom following right behind.

“You don’t have to.” He started and you gave him a look while shouldering your purse and slipping your feet into your sneakers. Ransom immediately went to a knee to tie them for you, knowing bending down was almost impossible for you now. The move itself made you smile softly, carding your fingers through his hair. He really was trying, more then you had thought he would.

“I will surprise you Ransom. And I already sent an email on what I need done.” You said as he moved back to a stand, going to tiptoes to peck him on the lips. “Love you, don't destroy the house while i'm gone.”

“You know… this place was just fine even before you lived here.” Ransom scoffed at the insinuation, and you were out the door laughing and cringing at the same time.

“I don't even want to know what went on here before I lived here with you.” You climbed into your car and Ransom watched while leaning in the doorway, recalling a time before you.

“Yea, you really don't wanna know Sweetheart.” He said to himself while going back inside while pulling out his phone to check on this list you emailed him.

1.Bleach the bathroom

2.Wipe down counters and stove

3.Take out garbage

The list went on from there, all easy tasks except for one. The bleaching the bathroom he cringed at. That was work you hired someone to do, not get on your hands and knees to do it yourself. He contemplated seeing if he couldn't get Harlan’s housekeeper over, he was sure a hundred bucks she would do it. But that would almost be more of a hassle in case she mentioned anything to someone like Meg who would just LOVE being a snitch and ratting him out to you. No, might as well just do it himself. First the easy stuff though, get it out of the way.

It was an hour later and Ransom was actually feeling pretty good about it all. No major mishaps happened, and the house actually did look a lot better then when he started. But the bathroom loomed on his mind, and even after a break to check the games scores could he not put it off any longer.

“Fuck my life…” He muttered to himself while stepping in the bathroom with his hands to his hips, looking it over. The downstairs bathroom wasn't huge or fancy, but in this moment one of the smallest rooms in the house seemed huge, daunting, like it was laughing at him.

This just set his resolve more, as he stepped into the bathroom. “Pay people to do this? Fuck they are ripping us off.” He muttered while digging out some bleach and bucket from under the bathroom sink. “Y/N is right, waste of money when we can just do it ourselves.” He ran the tap in the tub and filled the bucket, sure to add way to much bleach to the solution. Lifting it out, he grabbed your yellow elbow high gloves and a folded up hand towel (one of your good hand towels) and knelt on the floor to start washing the floor. It went smoothly at first, shuffling back and bringing the bucket with him, he didn't notice the little splashes from when he was plunging the towel into the bucket and wringing it out. It wasn't till he happened to jump hearing the door slam shut, and unknowingly he smacked his hand into the bucket, the water sloshing over the edge of it and landing in his lap that he cursed out.

“Fucking Christ!” He sprang up the water running down his leg, and almost immediately the dark blue of his jeans started to turn bleached white almost, all up and down his legs the spots kept appearing.

“Ransom?” You had wandered through the living room and was staring down the hallway towards the bathroom where you saw the light on, and there you saw him. His yellowed gloved hands were on held out to his sides, his head dipped down as if in utter disgust, looking at himself. You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, which you covered your mouth to try to stifle it when his head tilted up enough to see you standing in the doorway.

“These were brand fucking new jeans.” He said hostilely, and that just made you bust out in a laugh, wrapping an arm around your side and gripping the door frame to keep from doubling over at how ridiculous he looked. “What's so funny.”

“You, you wore high end jeans to bleach the fucking bathroom. Ransom, why would you wear nice clothes?”

“I only have nice clothes Y/N! Why would I keep shitty old clothes?” He said while peeling off the gloves and tossing them in the sink, thoroughly done with his ‘Honey Do List’ now.

“For moments like these Ransom, when we have to do the messy shit.” You looked him up and down once more, a giggle escaping you again. “I mean, maybe you will be the one to bring back acid wash jeans?”

“Right in the fucking garbage is where these are going. Who in their right mind would wear shit like this.”

“Your parents probably did?”

“Just give me another reason Y/N to hate this all that much more.” He glared at you while brushing past you to go change. “I told you we should just hire someone.”

“We are not hiring a maid for the thousandth time Ransom.”

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

Worthy of Everything - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Summary: Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone. And now his ringtone was going off. A/N: One day I’ll stop writing post-Ric/post-Robin reunions happening over the phone for these two, but not today. Wrote/edited this in an hour, and literally all based around the three paragraphs of Dick professing his love. I got that dialogue stuck in my head all week and needed a reason to write it. Sorry it sucks/is disjointed. I just want Dick to hold his son in canon again dammit. Also reminder that I tend to write Damian as a reflection of myself for cathartic/coping reasons so take that for what you will about my mental health/self image ha haAA~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

It surprised him, when his phone rang.

Not because it rang. Oh no, it was practically ringing off the hook these days. Once, his phone went dead without him ever touching it because it rang so often in just the few hours of that morning.

People trying to find him. People pretending to care. Pretending to be his family. His friends.

Whatever.

But no, his phone ringing this time…it was surprising. Shocking, actually.

Because it was Grayson’s ringtone.

Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone.

And now his ringtone was going off.

Dick was the only one he ever took the time to change a ringtone for. Everyone else was the default, even his parents. Because he didn’t care enough. And they didn’t care enough for him either.

Because it’s not like anyone else called him.

(Jon did. But Jon was now thousands of years in the future, and reception there is spotty at best.)

The short song was going through its third repetition now, phone twisting as it vibrated on the table. The screen was clearer now. The name Richard Grayson shone brightly.

He’d been avoiding calls. Avoiding this phone. Now it was like an out-of-body experience, watching his hand reach out and grab it.

He hit the button to answer, and slowly brought it up to his ear, but didn’t say anything. Still wasn’t completely sure it wasn’t a trick. Wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He heard breathing on the line. He breathed back.

Finally, softly: “I know you’re there, kiddo.”

Damian’s breath hitched, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

This wasn’t real, he decided. Because Grayson was gone. Grayson wasn’t coming back. He accepted that. He’d finally, finally accepted that.

So instead of a greeting, he demanded, albeit dumbly, “How did you get this number?”

There was a moment of quiet, then Dick laughed.

“It’s the same number you’ve always had.” Damian could hear the smile in Dick’s voice. “So it’s still saved in my phone.”

“…If you’re looking for Batman, I’m not with him.” Damian deflected. Because, still, this couldn’t be real. This wasn’t. It was not. “Call Superman for his contact.”

The sense of joy vanished immediately. “I know.” Dick murmured blankly. “I know you’re not with Bruce.” A pause. “Tell me where you are.”

And Damian’s muscle memory was, of course, to tell him everything. Spill your life and your heart and your soul to this man like you have so many times before. Tell him how much it hurts, breathing. How much it hurts to exist anymore. How lonely you are, how lost. Tell him your fears, listen for the hope he always so freely gave.

But then his brain caught up.

Don’t do that. Because Grayson is gone.

This…this isn’t Grayson.

This is a trick.

He inhaled sharply. “You’ve always been bad at imitations, Father.” He spat. “And this is your most pathetic attempt yet.”

“No – no wait, Damian.” A near gasp. “Please don’t hang up!”

Damian found his hand tensing around the phone. Found himself, inexplicably, obeying.

“It’s not your dad. I’m not your dad. I.” Dick seemed to stumble over his words a little. “I came home, Damian.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

“Why would I lie to you?” Dick demanded. “When have I ever lied to you?” He huffed in annoyance, and maybe…maybe a little something else. Pain? Desperateness? “Look, it’s not something to explain over the phone, okay? But I…I remembered. I remembered and I came home, and Bruce…” Dick’s voice changed now to anger. “Bruce told me what happened, what he did to clearly fuck it all up again, and that he hasn’t found you yet.”

Damian didn’t respond to that.

“I want to find you.” Dick whispered. “I…I need to find you, Damian. I need to see you.” A sigh. “I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Damian glanced out the nearby window, stared across the Gotham skyline. He saw no silhouettes of vigilantes. No shadows that he could convince himself were moving. It was still too early. The sun wasn’t completely set yet. Not time for anyone to start patrol.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken until after he did.

“…Why?”

“Why…?” Dick breathed in a mimicry. “Why do I need to…” More sounds that weren’t words. Just confusion. Just disbelief. “Because I love you, Damian.”

Damian immediately scoffed. Opened his mouth to respond. “You-”

“And you know what’s great about that?” Dick cut off with a frustrated drawl. “You don’t get to tell me I can’t.”

Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

“You don’t get to tell me if I’m allowed to love you or not. You don’t get to control my emotions, or give me reasons you think I shouldn’t. Because I’m going to anyway. Because I do anyway.” There was a manic-ness in his voice now. A panic. A near-fury. “And because I love you, because I miss you, I’m going to find you. Whether you want to be found or not.”

There was no other sound on Dick’s end of the line, but Damian found his eyes darting across Gotham anyway, looking for a weightless man. Looking for Nightwing.

“I only called as a courtesy. I thought…I thought maybe you’d want to see me too. So you’d tell me.” Dick was calm again. Quiet. Thoughtful. Hiding the sadness. “But that’s fine. I was just hoping for a hint. But I’ll find you without one. That’s fine too. You know me, I love a challenge.”

Damian felt his lips tremble. Tears well into his eyes.

With Father, it was easy. Because Father didn’t use words. Father barely looked at him. So there was never that awkward moment of love being professed to him. He knew, deep down, maybe, that his father, his family, loved him. And most days, that was good enough.

But assuming, hoping, dreaming you were loved was never good enough for Dick Grayson. He had to let you know, be 100% sure you knew. He had to tell you.

And he’d told Damian that before. Many times. But it’d never hit as hard as it did right now, as he stood in an empty apartment, on the phone with the person he cared for most. With the person who…with the only person who found him worthy. Who he thought was gone, out of his life for the rest of eternity.

And even after all these years, it was so much. Too much.

And he just didn’t deserve it.

Knew he didn’t deserve it. Just as Grayson knew how much he loved him despite that anyway.

“…Grayson?”

Because this wasn’t a trick. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.

He sounded so childish. So weak. He closed his eyes and scolded himself, even as the tears leaked through and down his cheeks anyway. Let disappointment wash through him even as his breaths became ragged and snot filled his nose.

Grayson had come back to him. Despite everything he was and everything he’d done, Grayson came back to him. Grayson still loved him.

“I’m here, kiddo. It’s me. I’m coming to get you.” Dick murmured gently. A second to think, then try again. “Just tell me where you are.”

Damian silently shook his head, slowly crumbling to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, hid his face in the crook of his arm.

“I’m not taking you back to Bruce, or the manor, or anything. We’ll go back to my place. You’re coming with me. You’re staying with me. No matter what. I promise.” Dick continued. Then repeated, softer, “Just please tell me where you are, Damian.”

So, sitting on the floor, sobbing, feeling relieved and hopeful and loved and knowing he didn’t deserve a second of any of those emotions – Damian did.

#dick grayson #Damian Wayne

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

Text

Safety in Numbers

A surprise gift fic for @artsymeeshee, because the art she recently posted of the Stan Twins cuddling warmed my heart and apparently inspired me to write..uh...almost five thousands words.

Don’t you dare tag this as a ship.

Summary: Every great thing that ever happens to you is usually followed by something much, much worse.

You save the world from the apocalypse, you're convinced that you've lost everything and everyone you've ever loved.

You gain your memories back, you have nightmares so vivid that they fuck with your sense of fantasy versus reality.

It's a lose-lose, if you ask Stan.

AO3

Stan awakens to an alarm clock he doesn’t remember setting. Groaning, he sits up, eyes not quite open yet, and his back makes an ugly popping sound he knows he’s going to feel as soon as his body is fully awake. He blinks his eyes open slowly, and takes a few moments to re-familiarize himself with his twin brother’s old study room. He turns, to check the time and stop that infernal beeping sound, but his neck is so stiff that it makes him want to blow chunks. That’s what he gets for sleeping on a couch, he supposes, but he’s certainly slept on worse, and even if Ford did have a bed somewhere in the mess of a shack he chose to call home, Stan certainly didn’t deserve it, because people who are probably responsible for the death of their family don’t deserve nice things.

Grunting, he swings his legs off the couch, and stands so he doesn’t have to bend his neck in any more weird directions just to turn the alarm off. Its obnoxiously bright red letters blink 5:31am, and Stan scrubs a hand down his face as he punches the clock’s OFF button with the other.

That’s right. The only reason he set the damn alarm in the first place is because a stubborn customer who couldn’t speak a lick of English refused to leave the gift shop until she found the perfect gift for her little kiddo back home despite the Shack having closed nearly half an hour prior. It’s the only time in his life he’s ever been grateful for the year he was trapped in Colombia, because he’s sure if he wasn’t able to heckle with her in Spanish her into leaving with one of everything, he has a feeling she’d still be wandering back and forth across the shop. Stan laughs to himself at the thought, and makes a mental note to make that sort of thing an attraction someday if he ever gets a customer as stubborn as she is again.

But no, that’s not what matters right now. He bends over to pick up a hairbrush that’d been carelessly tossed to the floor the night prior and runs it through his soft brown hair that he promises he’s going to get cut as soon as he has the time and money, and as soon as his hair manageable enough to brush through it without snagging on any tough knots, he carelessly tosses the brush over his shoulder and heads out of the room, navigating himself around the place with a flashlight. He’s aware that it’d make things much easier to just turn the lights on, but keeping the gift shop lights on all weekend is already burning a hole in his wallet, and he’s not sure he could afford the electricity bill if he left the lights in the study room on by mistake for even ten extra minutes.

When he reaches the staircase leading to the basement, he flicks the flashlight off and sets it down on the counter by the cash register. It’s much easier to navigate down the winding steps with both of his hands free in case he falls and needs to catch himself, and the faint blue hum of the portal is enough of a light source to show him the way to the basement anyway. He sits down at the desk, adjusts the framed photo of himself and Ford at boxing practice in high school, and pulls Journal 1 out from the hidden shelf in front of the monitor. He’d spent all of last week desperately looking for 2 and 3, but the harsh winter snowfall had cut his search short and he didn’t want to waste any more time when he could just try to get the damned thing working without them.

“C’mon, Poindexter, y’gotta give me something to work with,” he mumbles, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “I spent weeks memorizing all of your fancy shmancy ciphers. That’s more than I ever studied in high school. You can’t ramble on for two whole pages about how to crack them and then switch to this…” he squints at the squiggles scattered across the portal’s blueprints. “...Cooky alien language, or whatever. This is real life we’re talkin’ here. This is your life we’re talkin’ here. It’d be a lot easier if you didn’t write this thing in Klingon, or whatever”

Stan knows, at the back of his mind, that talking to the journal like it’s Ford himself isn’t going to get him anywhere, but in a weird kind of way, it makes him feel less alone. Helps a guy out from feeling too lonely, y’know?

He chuckles to himself at his own joke, taking comfort in the fact that if Ford were here he’d probably be rambling off about how Klingon is one of thousands of different intergalactic languages and how he obviously wrote it in Hqjolvk, thank you very much, and Stan can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he flips through his notepad. He’s tried everything, he’s tried translating them to whichever letter in the English alphabet they just happen to look closest to, he’s tried throwing sentences in gibberish into three different ciphers at once to see if he could get anything even relatively close to whatever it is, and even when he “bought” a book at the store on ancient hieroglyphics and ancient symbolism the closest thing he got was just a bunch of dumb numbers. And even then, translating all of those dumb numbers back to English from a1z26 just hit him against another dumb wall.

Frustrated, he throws the pad of paper against the desk and kicks off from its edge, sending his swivel chair flying backwards across the room. When the chair finally stops rolling, his gaze fixes on the portal through the window in front of the desk he’d just been sitting at, and it’s really only now that he’s looking at it from this distance, from this angle, that he notices….the same weird squiggles from the journal carved all over the circular ring in the center of the portal.

But...if the weird squiggles in the journal came from the portal, and translating those numbers from the Egyptian book through a1z26 just gave him gibberish...could...could it be that easy? Could it be-?

“Coordinates!” Stan yells, jumping to his feet, and tears build in his eyes at the epiphany. “Sweet Moses, they’re coordinates! How could it’ve been so obvious?” he cries, and nearly trips over himself in excitement as he scrambles back over to the monitor, and his hands are shaking as he flips through his notepad. Once he finds the page he’s looking for, he forces his hands steady as he enters the number into the keypad.

The tiny, logical voice in the very back of his mind is screaming at him that it’s never going to work, he only has a third of what he needs, he really shouldn’t get his hopes up, but the slamming of his heart against his chest drowns that sound out as he frantically enters and re-enters the numbers when he’s sure he accidentally entered the wrong ones (damn his chubby fingers), and when he’s finally, finally certain he’s gotten them all entered correctly, he presses the dark red SEND button, takes a few steps backwards, and waits.

For what couldn’t be longer than two minutes but feels like six hours, there’s nothing. Stan’s about to sigh, call it a good stopping point for the day and kick himself for getting his hopes up too high, but then a flash of blue lightning sparks from the portal and strikes the ground.

“HA!” Stan exclaims, pumping his fists in the air. “I knew it! I knew it! Nothing can stop Stan Pines!”

He sprints into the portal room, pausing only briefly to grab the toolbox on his way in. Two more bolts of lightning strike against the ground with a loud pop as he enters, and the grin spread across Stan’s face rivals them in brightness. Kneeling down in front of the lever, Stan opens his toolbox and pulls out his lucky red screwdriver that’s gotten him out of his fair share of car trunks, and goes to work on fixing up loose bolts and that awful crunching sound the lever kept making the last time he tried turning it on.

Three bolts emerge from the portal, and Stan is too ecstatic to notice their uncomfortably close proximity to his head. He stands, once he’s absolutely certain he’s got the lever all fixed, and puts everything he has into shoving the lever from its off position to the on position.

He can hear the gears turning in the machine, and his heart is pounding so hard against his chest it makes his ears ring. He’s tearing up again, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he gets to punch Ford in the shoulder and tell him off to never scare him like that again when he emerges in the next couple of minutes. The circular ring in the center of the portal begins to spin, slowly, and those weird symbols carved along it start to glow blue.

Stan nearly drops to his knees, but no, he can’t let Ford see him at rock bottom, and maybe that’s a little selfish, considering all of the places Ford’s probably been the past two years, but the last thing he needs Ford to see is how much he’s been killing himself working to get him back. The ring spins faster, and faster, and where there was once a hole in the center of the portal that leads only to the back wall of the room, there’s now a blindingly bright flash of blue light, and Stan is knocked to the ground by the kickback.

He goes to stand again, but the sound of shattering glass turns his attention elsewhere. He looks behind him, and the lightbulbs in the other room are exploding like it’s nobody’s business. He’s lucky his hearing was heightened from the ten years on the street, because he’s just quick enough to hear the cracking of the bulb right above his head that he’s able to dodge out of the way of the shattered glass as it rains down towards him. He jumps to his feet, brushing his clothes off, but he’s horrified to see that the portal’s ring is beginning to slow to a stop with no twin brother in sight.

“No!” he cries, and sprints back into the other room to reenter the coordinates into the monitor. But it’s just his luck, because the monitor’s glass is shattered to pieces as well, and there’s a thin line of black smoke rising from it. “No, no no no! I was so close!” he shouts, and sprints back into the portal room. He switches the lever from on to off and back to on again, but nothing changes.

When the ring comes to a complete stop, the bright blue light fades away, an ugly kind of rage boils in the pit of Stan’s stomach. “This is all your fault, you dumb machine!” he yells, and launches at the portal like it was a thug trying to rob him of his wallet, and starts punching it like there’s no tomorrow, like if he gave it enough left hooks it’ll obey him and spit Stanford right out to his side.

He’s about to go in for another punch when he hears the sound of the machine’s gears turning again. He grins, rubbing his hands together, and steps backwards to watch the process in its completion. Four bolts spark from the portal this time, but rather than strike the ground, they lunge for him, and Stan screams in agony as they jolt through his whole body. He takes it as a sign that he’s probably better off watching the process from the desk in the other room, but when he tries to turn heel and run, five bolts of lightning reach out and snake around his leg before he can take another step further, and he collapses to the ground. Gritting his teeth to avoid letting out a choked cry of pain, Stan tries to inch himself towards the lever for support to stand up, but it’s as if the damned lightning has the power to read his thoughts, because it shocks the lever with such a thick bolt of lightning that it fries the thing black.

The charge from the lightning gives the lever just the right amount of static charge it needs to reactivate properly, and Stan doesn’t notice the hum of the portal’s gears getting louder and louder until he finds himself floating off the ground. “W-whoa, hey! Hey! Hold on a minute!” Stan scrambles around at nothing in particular, hoping his feet or arms will snag on something and prevent him from getting pulled in. “Let’s talk this over! We can work together!” He must be losing his damn mind if he thinks bargaining with the portal like it’s sentient is going to do anything, but it’s the only option he’s got left. “I just want my brother back! You want to stay on, yeah? You don’t like getting turned on and off at random, right? I’ll-I’ll keep you on! As long as it takes for my brother to find his way home, I’ll keep you turned on! I promise!”

The machine, of course, does not respond, and the higher Stan gets off the ground the blurrier his vision gets. Damn fear of heights. He flaps his arms around as if he could fly, but nothing seems to work. He starts kicking, as well, to see if swimming towards the ground could work any better, but he still doesn’t budge.

But that does give him the idea of kicking off of the portal itself, since it’s the only solid thing left, save for the ceiling, and Stan curls himself up into a ball to try and get himself to flip over. It works, thankfully, but when he turns his glance back towards the portal his heart drops to his stomach. Curling himself up had helped his body change directions, yes, but it also changed his course entirely. Rather than being sucked towards the edge of the portal’s entrance, like he’d been when he was hovering above the lever, he’s now heading right for the center of the portal with nowhere to kick off of.

“N-No! No!” He shouts frantically, kicking his leg away from the cold blue substance the portal emitted. When he spares another glance backwards, his feet are already sucked inside, and the rest of him is quickly following. “No! Somebody help! Somebody!” he shouts, his own words painfully echoing those of Ford’s when he’d been in the same situation.

Ford,

If the portal manages to stay active after he gets sucked in, Ford’s gonna be able to find his way home, but he’ll be all alone, left to wonder what could’ve happened to him. Vaguely, Stan remembers Ford had been saying something about shutting it down for good, and his panicked flailing at the thought that he may be the one never coming again only makes his descent into the portal quicken. “Stanford!” he shouts, in the odds that his brother can hear his cries from the other side of the portal. “Stanford, do something! Stanford!”

The blue substance within the portal is thick and flavorless as his head is sucked in. He closes his mouth, because he doesn’t want to risk suffocating on whatever the hell this stuff is made of, and closes his eyes for impact for the same horrors that swallowed up his brother just two years prior, and…

…

When he forces his eyes open again, he’s lying on a bed. An actual, decently sized bed with fluffy blankets and at least three pillows supporting his head and neck. He’s not sure he’s slept on one of those in….what, thirteen years, give or take, if he’s not including the bug-infested hotels?

All of his burns from the lightning strikes have seemingly vanished into thin air, along with that gnawing hunger that never seemed to leave his stomach even when he had the time to eat more than a single meal a day, and though the air feels cool, it doesn’t feel humid and stuffy like Ford’s old lab had felt moments ago.

The rest of his aches are gone, too, he realizes as he sits up, replaced now by a dull pain in his hips and knees that he supposes he could credit to getting sucked into a portal and falling thirty feet to the ground to...uh, wherever he is now.

Is this where Ford’s been stuck all this time? It’s no wonder he never tried to find his way back on his own, because all things considered, this place is actually pretty comfortable. Maybe he wound up on a friendly alien planet, and some locals rushed him to the hospital to get him fixed up. But there’s no calamity outside his door like there usually is in most hospitals back on Earth, and there’s no weird tubes attached to either of his arms and not a sight of ace bandages anywhere on his body. And...is he…swaying back and forth?

Stan glances down at his hands, and the rest of his body still wrapped in a thick comforter. No, it’s not him, he realizes quickly, it’s the room that’s swaying back and forth. If he squints hard enough, he can make out the foot of his bed gently rocking back and forth. Scratching at his head, he goes to stand up and investigate his surroundings, until he notices a round window next to where he’d just been laying his head, just outside of his current line of sight. He lies back down, and his breath nearly catches in his throat at the sight.

It’s the biggest cluster of stars he’s ever seen his entire life, and if he looks close enough, he can see streaks of what he can only assume must be the galaxy itself. It certainly looks like the Earth’s skies, and when he looks again he notices the stars are reflecting off of… some kind of body of water?

Ah, so he’s on a boat. That explains the swaying. There’s a twinge of warm nostalgia in chest at the realization, of the days two scrappy little boys from New Jersey would spend their afternoons working on a sailboat of their own, musing dreamily about the day they’d finally sail away from the dumb town.

But...no. That couldn’t possibly be right. He got kicked out at seventeen, and Ford is god-knows-where in the universe. This must be some sort of sick joke, or an optical illusion that plays on his greatest dreams, or something. He turns away from the window, covering that half of his face with the blanket, and fully intends to fall asleep so he can bug the boat’s captain in the morning about where the hell he is and how the hell he wound up here in the first place. Just as he’s about to close his eyes, though, he notices a bulky, bright pink book sitting at his bedside table next to the lamp.

Well, he’s got nothing to lose, right? Maybe this thing’ll have some answers. He flicks the lamp on and sits up. The book is called MABEL’S SCRAPBOOK, and the title written in glitter pen in a child’s handwriting.

He snorts in laughter. Maybe the book belongs to the captain’s daughter, and she left it in here by mistake. Still, it could help to learn more about the family keeping him captive, and it’s not like she’ll know he ever read it, right? He chuckles to himself at the thought, but as soon as he grabs for the book to place it on his lap, the feel and smell of the dried glue and paint on the cover makes him feel dizzy, and his head’s suddenly swirling with so many thoughts that he feels like he’s drowning.

Grunkle Stan, it’s me! It’s me Grunkle Stan!

There has to be something we can do! I know my grunkle’s in there!

This is our first day in Gravity Falls, and this is when you let me take the grappling hook from the gift shop! Dipper thought I’d never use it, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Zing!

Over and over, all at once, the voice of two….wonderful, incredible rascal little nuisance kids keep yelling at him in his head, and he slams the book back down against his nightstand.

Damn memory relapses. Ford warned him they could happen, since McGucket had experienced a few of them himself before Stan and Ford left Gravity Falls, but Ford never said anything about the nightmares. Yeah, yeah, he could see it as a good thing, extra proof that his mind’s intact and they don’t need to worry that it’ll ever be gone for good, but nothing sucks more than nightmares that are so based in reality that they fuck with your sense of what’s real and what isn’t.

Stan rubs his eyes, and stands up. He figures it’d be a good idea to step out on deck and get some fresh air. He has no idea what time it is, but maybe if he goes and stares at the stars long enough he’ll eventually feel tired enough to crawl back into bed. He flicks his lamp light back off, and he’s maybe three steps out of his bedroom door before he notices that the light in Ford’s bedroom next to his is still on.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to be mad at Ford for staying up this late, and any other night he would tell him off and guilt him into sleeping by lying about how his light and excessive scribbling is what woke him up, but tonight he’s actually relieved by his brother’s dangerous sleeping habits, because talking out loud about his relapses and distinguishing real memories from fake ones always seems to widen the gap between his next relapse, and it certainly doesn’t help that tonight’s nightmare was about Ford’s disappearance. He creaks the door open slowly, to avoid activating Ford’s flight-or-magnet-gun-in-your-face response, and his mouth closes just as quickly as he’d opened it to speak. Ford’s desk lamp is on, yes, but his nerdy brother is not, in fact, hunched over with a thousand stacks of paper covering his face like he usually is this time of night.

Oh no. The lamp, it seems, was left on by mistake, because Ford’s curled up in his bed, fast asleep with his face half-buried in the pillow and his glasses tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand that he must’ve forgotten to close. Rolling his eyes, Stan sneaks into the room as quietly as he can and flicks the light off so he doesn’t have to replace the lightbulb when it subsequently dies out in the morning.

He turns heel, and he’s set on going back to his original plan of staring up at the sky until he feels tired again, but as he turns to close Ford’s door he gets another close look at his brother’s sleeping form and his chest warms with nostalgia at the sight as another memory, one from his childhood, resurfaces itself tonight.

When they were kids, Pa was...never the comforting kind of parent. And yeah, while that was pretty obvious in that it was always Ma who helped patch up their skinned knees and splinters from the boardwalk and the occasional bee sting, there were times he’d be...more subtle about it, if that’s even the right word to describe him. If either of them came poking their heads in their parents’ bedroom after a nightmare, asking if they could crawl in bed and sleep with them for the night, Pa would always brush them off and send them back to their own room, giving them some excuse about the shop opening early tomorrow and how he can’t afford to lose any sleep in case someone tries to come in and rob them.

From a young age, Stan and his brother learned that it’d be easier just to stop asking Pa at all, and instead they’d resort to climbing into each other’s bed instead. They shared a bunk bed up until they were about fourteen, and they had this unspoken system going where if the other poked them awake or tried to crawl under their blanket in the middle of the night, they’d have to comply and let them in without asking why because it usually meant they were having bad dreams. Ford learned very early on never to hesitate for Stan, because he knew that if Stan was willing to climb to the top bunk despite his fear of heights that his nightmares must’ve been bad.

Stan pauses, and wonders if Ford still remembers those times as well as he does. He hesitates, his grip still tight around the doorknob, until he recalls that it had been Ford who had asked him to accompany him to the arctic, and Ford who kept their childhood photo tucked away in the pocket of his trench coat.

Well, here goes nothing.

Just as quietly as he’d been before, he tiptoes over to Ford’s bedside, and he’s thankful to find that there was still enough room for him to crawl under the covers without squishing Ford uncomfortably against the wall. Slowly, as not to jostle the blankets too much to wake his brother, he flips a corner of the blanket up, crawls underneath, and as soon as his head hits the extra pillow he’s out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Ford had to complain about anything from his thirty year trip around the multiverse, besides, well...all of it, he’d have to credit the worst of it to his heightened hearing.

Ages ago, when it’d just been two weeks since he was sucked into the portal, he taught himself to sleep with his eyes open, and he taught his ears to pick up on the tiniest of movements, even the wind blowing the leaves off a tree branch. He couldn’t afford capture, and if that meant he had to sacrifice sleep to assure it wouldn’t happen, then so be it.

He’d lost the habit of sleeping with his eyes open after all the time he spent with Jheselbraum, thank god, but he could never quite get over the habit of listening. Every time something creaked in the Shack, every time Stan or one of the kids awoke in the middle of the night in search of the bathroom, it’d wake him up in a jolt, and it’d always take him longer than necessary to fall back asleep.

The nights on the Stan O’ War II are usually the quietest and most peaceful nights Ford’s ever experienced since his childhood. Though he and Stan always spend their days tracking and hunting monsters, they’re always able to find quiet little seaport towns to dock their boat when they need a place to rest for the night where nobody makes a peep until sunrise.

That is...until tonight. He’d been awake just a few minutes prior, mapping out the coordinates for the next monster they needed to track down and how long it would take for them to find it, but he finally got to a point where he had been so tired that his handwriting was starting to give up on him and he decided it was probably for the best that he just go to sleep. Standing to stretch, he places his glasses in the drawer of his nightstand and didn’t bother with the lamp light because he could just replace the bulb in the morning if need be, and practically collapsed face first onto his bed and fell asleep.

He heard mumbling coming from the thin wall to his brother’s room, and since their departure from Gravity Falls he’s become so used to Stan’s constant presence that it no longer bolts him awake. In a way it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s never alone on the vast sea. He shifts, when he hears his brother’s slippers lightly slapping against the deck, but dismisses that just as quickly.

He can feel himself dozing back off to real sleep when he hears his own lamp click off and his bedroom door closing. Ah, Stan was probably coming in to check on him but left when he saw that he was already asleep. That’s fine; he did that a lot the week before they left for their trip. He’s used to it.

What he’s not used to is the blanket getting ripped from his shoulders, and the bed making a dull creaking sound of...something sitting on it. Baffled, he pops his eye open, ready to reach for his weapon in case some sea creature managed to slip on board and into his bed, but his heart rate eases when he makes out the familiar shape of his brother fast asleep in the other half of his bed.

The sight of it makes Ford want to laugh.

He can’t believe Stan remembers.

Closing his eyes, Ford shifts his position ever so slightly, like it’s a maneuver he’s been practicing for ages, and scooches himself closer to Stan without shaking the bed. He snakes an arm around Stanley’s shoulder, whose whole body seems to release itself of tension at the gesture. Unconsciously, Stan shifts himself closer to Ford as well, and snakes his own arm around Ford’s chest, like he, too, had been practicing the maneuver since they were separated all those years ago.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #sea grunkles #artsymeeshee

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krustywhore · 4 years

Text

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

#moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #shemar moore #my writing

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

Note

Well. In light of the recent vanessa fic, I am going to request a few things. How about Helena going to MC's high school reunion?

WARNINGS: Intolerable sexist arseholes Referenced rape culture Blood and minor violence Written by: @evoedbd ******************************************

“Helena… my feet hurt.” Kya’s soft, plaintive voice rung like gunshots in Helena’s ears. To hear that Kya was in pain caused a war of sensations within the Sorceress, turning her chest into a battlefield as she aimed to pick out her own thoughts amidst the din. The music was too loud. All pulsing beats and pop hits that all bled into one another in an unpleasant screech. With all the beauty Kya’s people could capture, the fact they abused that power to capture such meaningless garble was bad enough, but the songs that Helena’s ears had picked out went beyond this. The images of men taking what they pleased, or endlessly fucking hoes and capping foes… it set her teeth on edge. Why would anybody wish to put a cap on someone they disliked so much? It was absolutely beyond her. After all, she had seen the selfishness of humanity. She had seen people who would do precisely what the songs fantasized about. She had been one of those prizes. The pet. The mess left behind once a tyrant had finished with her for the night. She had been the violated girl dragging herself across the floors because she couldn’t walk, trailing blood. Why did some of Kya’s people find this concept worth celebrating? How many even knew what they danced to? “Helena?” This time, Kya’s voice was pleading. A gentle touch to Helena’s ravaged senses. This was accompanied by the lightest touch to her forearm, fingertips begging for more yet restraining themselves until Helena gave consent. The Sorceress had to close her eyes, to stop watching and picture a much calmer place. An open field, filled with flowers that had no name, not in this world. Flowers woven through black hair, accompanying laughter that became wings for Helena’s soul. She didn’t particularly want to open her eyes to the gyrating crowds. Around her, she could feel a thousand candles, each flickering in time with the sea of sorry, middle-aged bodies awkwardly trying to reclaim their youth. All dressed in finery above their means as they tried to convince everyone of their success and happiness, even as they reeked of misery. An ocean of people, all smiling politely whilst firing knives from their tongue, shooting daggers from their eyes. Alcohol flowing a little too freely, too dangerously. Control, so willingly abandoned. It was as if none of them knew its value. As if none of these people had ever seen or experienced control torn away completely, until even the breath a body took was at another’s whim. Then there were the lights. A spinning ball reflected everything, casting a thousand fragments of light across the floor, growing larger as they grew further from the centre. Spinning chaos across the wooden floors, illuminating the deep blue lighting, catching in the mist across the dancing masses. An unnatural mist summoned by machines… and Kya said her people possessed no magic. “Helena… are you with me?” The longing to answer hit her harder than a boulder from a catapult against a crumbling castle wall. Gods, how she wanted to open her eyes and find only one person before her. Yet, she was surrounded; drowning in the sea of bodies as the unnatural mist lapped at her ankles. As elbows collided with her, or fingers nipped at the bottom of her hair like vultures testing the fight left in their meat. Her heart pounded, beating against the cage of her chest much like how her magic pulsed with her fears. Limbs tingled; fingers began to move on instinct. Then, warmth. So much warmth. Enough that she gasped. Instantly, her lungs filled with air; her nose with that delicious mix she had never quite learned. Something soft, something smoky and then a hint of spice. Always, it was sweet. So very, very intoxicatingly sweet… but not sugary. The underlying bitterness of coffee tempered sweetness so deliciously that Helena found herself devoured by her craving for that scent. A second inhale gave her more, slowly begun to redirect her roaming senses to a singular focus. It was enough for her to open her eyes. “Welcome back.” A kind voice fell from naked lips. The smile upon them was small, nothing intended for the world to see. A secret amidst the crowd, the last life jacket on the Titanic. Just seeing it was enough for Helena to be saved. Shining grey eyes accompanied that encouraging little smile. Adoration glistened in beautiful grey depths, outshining the tinges of concern playing flecks in bluestone. In the swirling lights and dulled room, stone was more akin to gems than cobble, captivating Helena’s attention for far longer than society deemed polite. She could care less. Museums held marble statues of deities past, depictions of Aphrodite to stare at for hours. Marble was incomparable to the greys, Aphrodite a hag compared to the graceful woman donning such a flowing black dress. Elegance in its purest simplicity. “As if I could ever be parted from you.” Helena gave her best attempt at a purr. It was effective, given the creep of pink over Kya’s pale cheeks. Pale, not bloodless, Helena reminded herself. Bloodless was danger. It was the colour Kya had gone after the Queen’s spell struck her. It was the colour Kya had been when the Queen held a blade to her throat, when the Queen tormented Helena into confessing every pain, tried to make Sorceress scream and kneel. Tried to break her. Bloodless was the Witch Queen leering over a terrified girl, or ordering her most loyal man to ensure said girl was prepared… Helena flinched. Faster than Helena could blink, Kya’s hands left her, gathering in front of said woman’s chest. Kya held her hands there patiently, as if they were to be bound. Somehow, the speed and implications of such a gesture did not spark further fear within Helena, did not reignite the painful memories lapping at the edge of her consciousness. How such gestures could be made soft and welcoming, appealing even, still befuddled her. Flummoxed, her breath caught, even as Kya spoke. “Helena, I’m going to grab your tie, ok? I won’t pull, and my hands won’t move until I know you are ok. If you need to grab me, that’s ok. I know you won’t hurt me. We can just sway.” “The music is too upbeat for such a slow dance.” Came Helena’s rebuttal, even as her body moved to follow Kya’s suggestion. Cautiously, she gathered Kya into her chest, holding the otherworldly beauty there as if the world might snatch her away. Beneath Helena’s pale skin magic simmered. It heated her veins, writhing and bubbling like serpents of heated tar. She could feel the sparks escaping her control, trapped between her skin and her silken black button up. Kya had expressed her appreciation for Helena’s suit, several times, yet Helena had not seen the appeal until just now. The darkness of her shirt slimmed her down a little, whilst also concealing the fact she was sweating bullets. Her turquoise suit jacket was cut to perfection, emphasising both the strength of her shoulders and her feminine curves, without drawing attention to an overly generous bust. The matching pants fit her like a second skin, showing off impossibly long legs right to heels which meant business. Not only did they elevate her above the heads of many men, they also screamed womanly power. That she could, and would, step on any fool who crossed her path. Then, there was her crisp white tie… the very tie currently embraced between Kya’s gentle fingers. “Who cares about the music? We make our own rules, babe, always have. This was meant to be something fun, Helena. I didn’t think it’d be like this. I just thought it’d be romantic. Like going to prom with my soulmate, instead of some boy who expected me to finish the night on the backseat of his car.” “That boy dare-“ “He didn’t try to physically force me. He was confused as to why I wouldn’t, tried to convince me verbally, but he never laid a hand on me. He wasn’t a bad person, just an ignorant one. He was influenced by the wrong people. He actually wrote me an apology. It doesn’t makes my memory of prom the best.” “Yeah, had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you. So hit me up when you passing through. I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two” “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Kya exploded, her wrath erupting in an enraged shout. Her voice carried, drawing countless gazes to the human embodiment of furious flames about to claim their penance. Kya’s entire body trembled, almost as if her growls were causing her to vibrate, and her cheeks took on a hue often associated with a devil. The fire in her eyes seemed poised to devour the world in its search for vengeance, yet Kya tempered it to three precise culprits. Three large men, all crowding around an uncomfortable-looking DJ who cringed as the song continued to play across a stagnant dance floor. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the music, dyke?” The first man sneered, his voice grating from between crooked teeth. His mates laughed, playfully jabbing him in his well-padded arms, hooting their drunken approval. His large belly jiggled as he laughed. Helena’s eye was drawn to his shirt, specifically the valiant efforts of a single thread stretched between a disconnected button and said shirt. “You’ve been playing rape culture bullshit for over half an hour. Do you even know what half of this shit means? Slip her a Molly? That is roofies! Drugging a woman’s drink to sleep with her, cause that’s totally sexy. That Nirvana song? It is literally about a rape victim. Did you idiots even stop to think that some people here might have gone through that?” Kya’s accusations were sharp, to the point, a jab of a blade straight to the ribcage. “We thought it was setting the mood. Isn’t your bitch DTF? She looks the type.” The second man taunted, giving a poor attempt at a suggestive wiggle of his brows. This man appeared more in shape, lithe, with the veins standing stark beneath his muscles. However, the stench of alcohol was only smothered by the copious amounts of noisme body spray he stained his wrinkled shirt with. “This isn’t the 1800s, dude. Women have the right to get married and be together outside of a Pornhub video.” Kya’s tone dropped along with her brows, her expression challenging, daring the men to come up with a retort worthy of her. “It isn’t rape if the bitch wants it.” The third man jeered. Unlike his counterparts, he appeared clean and put together, something Helena might have even called attractive before he opened his mouth. A good-looking man, ruined by his horrific mouth or corrupt by the company he kept. “What happened to you three? How can you be so cruel as to deliberately target someone just for existing? I know you’ve been watching us and noticed Helena’s reactions.” Kya’s words struck Helena to the core. Suddenly everything made too much sense. How the songs had seemed to only get worse and worse, their violations and sexist attitude more crudely represented. More stark. How the music had steadily grown louder and louder, until their sounds had burned into Helena’s consciousness. Until they became shadows which she could not be free of. Shadows where leering eyes hid, a pride of lions or a pack of wolves slowly circling their prey. What she had dismissed as a trickle of sweat down her back now stood out, an instinctual twinge, a warning. One she had not taken heed of. It left her wondering, was anywhere truly safe for her aside from Kya’s arms? Even in this strange new world, where nobody knew her crimes, she found herself persecuted. Had coming here truly been the new start she believed it to be? Or had she just fled her own insecurity into a pit of newer, wiser vipers whilst she played catch up for over thirty years of missing knowledge? “This is America, we have the right to listen to what we want.” “You have a constitutional right not to be a colossal dick.” Kya fired back without pause. This earned several snickers from around the room at the man’s expense. She wasn’t done, not even close. Kya continued, launching into a scolding with enough disgust in her tone to cow the watching crowds. “After everything she has done for this damn country, hell, the world, she deserves ONE night without some douchebags throwing shit at her. All we wanted was to come and have a lovely night out, not cop sexual harassment from a failed security guard, an alcoholic and a walking advertisement for how not to be a man all trying to relive their high school glory days.” “What? She got bored of servicing all the real men and went for her own bitch to boss around instead?” The second man taunted, snickering loudly at Kya’s repulsed expression. The expression was barely a flicker on the way to a smile. No, a smile implied genuine joy and happiness. Kya’s expression was something far darker. Ink dropped into water, sinking to the bottom of the glass. Purity tainted by malicious intent. Helena internally flinched. That expression was unlike anything she had seen from Kya before, save when Kya dealt with the Queen. It was the closest Kya could ever come to such wickedness; the closest Helena could bare to see her fall. “Oh I get it now. This is about your inferiority complex that no woman as gorgeous as Helena would want to be within ten feet of you unless it was to deliver a restraining order.” Kya’s voice was so calm, so crisp and clear, yet somehow a sneer. Something that even the Witch Queen could never truly pull off. It all happened so fast. Faster than Helena could even react. One moment, Kya was snarling in the face of some asshole, the next he had reached out in a sloppy attempt to smack her. Kya was faster. In a blink, she had grabbed the man’s wrist, grip unyielding, stepped into his space and twisted her body. Just like Helena had taught her. The man went plummeting to the ground in a flurry of ill-fitting formalwear and disgusting body spray. The collision was bone-jarring, filling the room with an audible thud. Before anybody could do anything more than gasp, the third man launched at Kya’s exposed back. Helena’s heart leapt into her throat, her magic burning beneath her skin in preparation to unleash. It was a pointless endeavour. Kya moved naturally, as fluidly as a trickling stream with the passion of a dancer and the heart of a knight. Her elbow came up, driven into the man’s nose without a moment of hesitation. He too fell, left with only his hands to try and still the raging current of blood pouring between his trembling fingers. His hands desperately palmed the broken mass of his nose, which made his cries sound wet and gargling. A second strike, a vicious kick to his groin, ensured he would not be getting up again. Helena arched a brow. That was not something she had taught Kya. “How?” The most rotund of the three questioned, wisely keeping his hands well away from Kya as she stormed up to him. Helena knew his fear, it was once an intimate companion to her afterall. He looked at Kya as if she were the Witch Queen, something which sat uneasily in Helena’s gut. Even here, Kya was not the Queen. She had not taken evident joy in her power over these men, nor in their fear. Kya wore an entirely too calm expression, as if the violence had been a bore to her. As if the blood running down her arm was something to be nonchalant about. She was silent as she reached out, hooking a single finger into the string stretched between button and shirt. Finally, it gave out, snapping under the added pressure. Then, Kya spoke, her voice kept low as if to protect the man from further humiliation. “My wife is a war hero. I’m not the scary one.” She informed, using the tails of his shirt to wipe the blood from her arm. At Kya’s words, Helena noticed the room focus on her for a moment, awe and respect flooding their eyes in a manner that was entirely too familiar. Too uncomfortable. It was the awe and fear of Reiner’s army. How long would it be until they too saw the monster she could be? Could that be how they now viewed Kya? “She’s earned her peace, and I’ll fuck up anybody who tries to attack that. She shouldn’t have to kill anybody else to protect this country, let alone deal with shitfucks like your friends shaming her for having an ounce of happiness.” Kya continued, eyes blazing dangerously. That. That there was something the Queen never had. The heat in her eyes, the fire and compassion. Helena’s heart rose in her throat. She’d seen this scene before. The Queen, leering over her prey, leaning down to mock their failure before she crushed them. Now Helena could see it. Kya’s connection to the Queen. The heat had faded from her cheeks, yet that heat seemed to have migrated to her eyes. Where the queen froze, Kya blazed, charring the man’s willpower to cinders with but one annoyed glance. Her focused glare had him trembling, fearing what she might do next. Helena felt that fear. Had the queen claimed her lover? Was she to truly lose her happiness now? Was fate so cruel? “Your friends will need medical care. That elbow could have broken more than his nose, and your other buddy smacked his head pretty hard.” Kya added, concern filtering into her expression for a microsecond before she turned. With the grace and confidence of a Queen, she strode over to the first man, her dress fluttering around her knees like wisps of shadows and silk. She leaned down towards the man, crouching so that she could speak directly to him. “If I ever hear you dared touch another soul without their consent, then you will no longer have hands.” Kya warned, her voice a tide of outrage tempered by her own compassion. Her hand upon him reminded him to stay down, but also touched with concern. Feeling how his heart rose to meet her palm. Despite his unfocused gaze, he afforded her his full attention, staring at her as if he was looking upon an Angel. No, not an Angel. A Valkyrie of Nordic legend. A guide to the lost heroes, the one to guide their souls to peace. Helena understood, for she gazed in utter devotion. This Kya was a new creature, one embodying her soulmate, channelling Helena’s protective energy in a uniquely Kya way. Helena couldn’t help but smile, to grace her protector with an approving twitch of her lips and a nod. Kya was not the Queen, nor did she continue her violence when it was not in defence. She had picked up arms in this moment so Helena would not. So Helena did not have to. Just as Kya had promised, she protected Helena’s peace. Kya rose after a few more moments, stony eyes softened to gems as she gazed upon Helena. The Valkyrie extended her hand, fingers imploring Helena’s to weave between them with a silent little wiggle. Helena, a lost soul if ever there was one, was helpless to do anything but reach, to accept the hand offered to her. With the softest of smiles, she entrusted herself entirely to her soulmate, her Valkyrie, trusting that if Kya was not her peace then at least she would lead Helena there.

#Anonymous #lovestruck #love and legends #love and legends helena #helena klein #lovestruck helena #helena x mc #angst #fluffy angst #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: reference to rape culture #woeful wednesday

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louandhazaf · 4 years

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Happy Birthday to me! This year I want to celebrate all the incredible authors who have gifted me fics through the years. Please go give these fics some love! #piscesseason

Mercedes Boy by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Explicit, 5374 words There's a surprise waiting at home for Louis after he finishes his day on the tracks at the Mercedes AMG Driving Experience. This was the first fic every written for me and it will always have a special place in my heart. For those who don't know, I am obsessed with "AMG Louis" because it's at the cross of loves of automotive sports and dirtbag Louis. And Lauren took that and made a super hot, super tender fic about fucking in a car. I love everything about it.

Cigarette in my left hand, whole world in my right hand by wearetheluckyones Tomlinshaw, Explicit, 5833 words Harry's had some really bad ideas before, starting with the time he got pissed and jumped into the Thames stark naked, but this might take the fucking cake. Offering up Louis as a viable option for a model for Nick's last photography project is ludicrous at best and a disaster waiting to happen at worst. I wanted to read some photographer!Nick and model!Louis and then I also got uni!Tomlinshaw and a nature walk and talks about flowers and a BUNNY and basically this is also very hot and very tender and I was THRILLED to recieve it.

You're my fault, my weakness by wearetheluckyones Tomlinshaw, Explicit, 2197 words It’s been six months since Nick’s project, and Christmas and Louis’s birthday are coming up fast. Louis’s invited Nick to his family’s place for the holidays, and Nick can’t help but be nervous. THEN THIS AUTHOR WROTE MORE IN THIS VERSE???? Like, HELLO, I am in love with everything.

Mixtape by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, General, 927 words From Find You Home, this is Louis' POV when they first leave home to drive to his family's house for Christmas. When I read Find You Home I was utter obsessed with the idea of Louis making Harry a mixtape full of songs with hidden meaning, that expressed everything he couldn't say to Harry, how much time and effort he'd put into the thing, and then when he gives it to Harry, Harry literally tosses it aside. My heart! It aches! How carelessly cruel of Harry! I wanted all of the angst of Louis Going Through It and I basically forced Lauren to write this for me. She's the best.

Can We Talk for a Moment? by lululawrence Larry, Not Rated, 15737 words It was widely known that alphas were never as common as betas or omegas. It is believed the reasoning for that was safety for their packs. Each pack could only have one Alpha, and in order to keep order and make sure there was no mistaking who was in power, once the successor had been named, other alphas would be forced out of the pack. The populations grew, as was to be expected with time and all manner of developments, and while the packs got larger and joined together, the number of alphas never increased. Harry didn’t care for the reasons behind the phenomenon. In the end, it didn’t really matter. All he knew was he was the only alpha within about a thousand mile radius, and he was a complete and total disappointment. Or the one where Harry is a shy, nerdy alpha, Louis is a loud omega punk, and there's more to both of them than their reputations. PUNK!LOUIS PUNK!LOUIS PUNK!LOUIS. BUT ALSO!!! OMEGA PUNK LOUIS AND NERDY ALPHA HARRY. WHAT MORE COULD A PERSON ASK FOR???

Fall Like Rain by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, General, 2473 words This is Harry's POV from the first day that he and Louis are at the beach house. You've read Don't Want Shelter, right? If not, what are you doing? Go read it! And then read all of the amazing other bits Lauren has written in the universe. I will always always always have a special little nook in my heart for these men.

Glitter Bomb by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Teen, 7808 words After a spectacularly awful date, Harry decides a little petty revenge will make him feel better. Things don't work out quite the way he plans. What's better than sending a glitter bomb as a bit of revenge?? READING THIS FIC ABOUT THAT VERY CONCEPT. Of course, nothing goes as planned... and then it all works out in the end. Hilarious and Wonderful!!!

Be Mine, Little Valentine by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Explicit, 7435 words Louis wants to find someone who'll love all of him. There's just one tiny complication. Uhhhhh, I love tiny penis fics. This one is incredible.

One Touch Is Never Enough by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Explicit, 3853 words It’s been a rough year for Louis. First, he was turned into a werewolf, which hasn't been so bad, except that he didn't anticipate how it would affect his love life. Maybe it’d be easier to ignore if he wasn’t constantly bombarded by the sound of his two werewolf best friends getting it on in the next room. At least they were nice enough to give him a gift certificate for a massage. I still laugh out loud everytime I think of this fic. I mean, read that summary. OFC this fic is going to be so stellar.

Wine Not? by abrighteryellow, allwaswell16, catfishau (dinosaursmate), crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks), disgruntledkittenface, FallingLikeThis, jaerie, Justalittlelouislove, kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie), kiwikero, LadyLondonderry, Layne Faire (HisDarlin), lululawrence, momentofclarity, phdmama, QuickedWeen, Rearviewdreamer, red_special, SadaVeniren, someonethatsfunny, taggiecb Larry, Explicit, 20704 words Louis’ Wine Dive is a bar run by the people for the people. Wine Styles is a boutique tasting room that caters to a more highbrow clientele. When their worlds clash on a beautiful Charleston street, one of these owners may find that an ounce of pretension doesn’t stand a chance against a pound of perseverance. I am not great with emotions. Showing them or dealing with them. If I think too hard about this fic, I run the risk of tearing up. I don't know that I can every express how much it means to me that these amazing authors all came together to write me a fic. A really really wonderful fic. That is far more coheasive than it has any right to be. But my chest gets all funny and my eyes get all watery, so I'm just going to say that everyone should go read it. It means the world to me.

It's been a long, cold, lonely winter by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Teen, 443 words Louis wants to catch the eye of his hot neighbor who's always looking at his phone. His grey sweatpants are his secret weapon. I wrote a little fic, and then Lauren was like I WANT TO WRITE THE ALTERNATE POV AND ALSO HERE ARE SOME GREY SWEATPANTS and whoooboooooy what a great combo that turned out to be!

All This Noise by musiclily88 Larry, Teen, 1733 words Here's how it begins DRUMMER!LOUIS DRUMMER!LOUIS DRUMMER!LOUIS WHY ARE THERE NOT MORE DRUMMER LOUIS FICS IN THIS FANDOM??? I posed that question and then this fic was written for me and my mind melted. I LOVE the concept of drummer Louis and this fic so totally delivers.

One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Floor by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Maggie Rogers/Niall, Explicit, 3713 words Niall and Maggie come up with a way to get revenge on her annoying neighbors. HEH. GO READ THIS HET FIC ABOUT MAGGIE PEGGING NIALL. LIKE. GO. This does not have enough hits!

Heels Over Head by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) Larry, Explicit, 3455 words Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private. You know what else I love in addition to tiny penis fics?? Lauren's butthole series. This one CRACKS ME UP. I'm going to send her a million more butthole prompts and make her write them as well.

Make Your Body Move Like Mine by Jiksa Larry & Gryles, Explicit, 9400 words He looks beautiful, otherworldly, strobe lights catching in his curls like rays of sunshine. Louis can’t look away. Or, the first time they meet. Prequel to You're A Universe. I do not have enough words to possibly explain how much I love Jx's fic, You're A Universe. So when we were talking and she said she had a prequel I all but begged her to let me read it. Even if she never posted it. I needed it. And she was so so gracious enough to let me read it. And it fills the perfect little backstory spot about Harry and Nick and who Louis was when he met Harry for the first time and just... UGH. Everything about it is perfect in every way. It's possible I had a little meltdown when I saw it was gifted to me when it was posted.

sad sex is... no by disgruntledkittenface Gryles, Not Rated, 2430 words “Hey, are you…” As he hesitates, a line appearing between his furrowed eyebrows and a pout forming on his puffy pink lips, the words “don’t say it” run on a loop in Nick’s head, like a prayer. “... okay?” He said it. Fuck. A gryles AU based on Harry’s iconic quote from the Jools Holland interview. OH! Speaking of having meltdowns when seeing that ao3 email about a gift. I saw this, I saw the title, saw the author, and fully had to close my laptop and walk away because I knew it was going to be so overwhelmingly exactly what I wanted to read that I literally couldn't deal with it. (Um. Remember that not dealing well with emotions. This is an excellent example. I just... shut down when i saw it because I was so overwhelmed.) This literally hits every single one of my buttons and is just so so beautifully written and I'm so so very lucky to have friends like this.

#kingsofeverything #disgruntledkittenface #jiksax #musiclily #lululawrence #the whole freaking gc #i love you all #anyway hbd to me!

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christiana-s-random-thoughts · 4 years

Text

If I told you

Okay, before you begin reading, I’d like to say I wrote this about 5-6 years ago and later published it on ffnet.

While talking with some friends, I decided to post it here as well after I took care of some typos (there might still be some mistakes I missed, though).

It’s a songfic, using the Naruto universe and the song “If I told you” from the wedding singer.

Anyway, I hope you like it :)

oOo

Pairing: SasuHina

Italics: Thoughts

“Word “: Talks

**Word**: Lyrics

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto and If I told you is from “The wedding singer”.

OoooO

If someone ever told him that, he, Uchiha Sasuke, would be hopelessly in love with a girl one day, he would have laughed at that person’s face, after punching the daylights out of him, of course. He never believed in love, never believed someone would ever capture his heart – supposing he has one – and would melt it.

Like everyone in Konoha, he thought that he would always be that cold, ruthless and lonely soul. Guess he was wrong, like every damn villager, because she came along. She, who he now is watching from a tree outside her family house. The crabapple tree she used to escape home, a little underneath her window and with many branches heading out of the fence was now his observation place…

**Standing here underneath your window,

Searching for some kind of sign**

He wanted her to turn around, wanted her to just approach her window and see him. Then she would climb on the tree too, and flee with him. Unfortunately, that won’t be the case.

She was in front of her mirror, a blissful grin adorning her angelic face. And why wouldn’t she be smiling? After all, she is trying “that” dress… Her wedding dress…

The white garment, which was contrasting beautifully with her long raven locks, made her look like an angel.

Pale lavender eyes that he would never gaze at again; long raven locks in which he won’t run his fingers ever again, nor smell her sweet shampoo – apple scented, he recalled fondly – , a cute button nose that he liked to flick – to her great annoyance – , cute pink lips that he oh so wanted to kiss, cheeks that are always adorned with that adorable blush – even though it wasn’t caused by him at the moment – that he found really endearing, a heart-shaped face, a petite but curvaceous body… That all add to make her, Hyuuga Hinata, his best friend, the love of his life… and his guy best friend’s fiancée.

**Every move, every tiny gesture

Only proves you’re not mine**

And she’ll be married in a few days… No longer would she be Hyuuga Hinata, she will be Uzumaki Hinata. If only he just realized his feelings earlier. But if he did, what would he have done? Take her out on dates? Shower her with gifts? Buy her flowers? Pick her up from work? Be with her when she’s sick? Support her ideas no matter how crazy they are? Comfort her when she is sad? Share her happiness? Go on wild trips once in a while?

He already did all of that!! So what? Should he have told her how he felt if he knew sooner? But now, it’s too late… But God knows he would do anything for her, to have her return his love. He would go as far as stealing the moon for her – maybe like Groo did, because even though it is just a movie, miniaturizing the moon was a good idea – or buy her an island – after all, he has enough money to – but he knows she’s not someone you can buy with money, and she liked simple things.

“Oh, Hina-chan, what wouldn’t I do if only you asked me to?” he thought desperately.

**I could write you a thousand love songs,

Search the world for the perfect tune and rhyme.

But what good would it do if it seems I’m out of time**

Or maybe it’s not too late? Maybe he can still tell her? But would it change anything? After all, her wedding is in two days! And what if she hates him for that? And the dobe? He would never forgive him. And he can’t stand the idea of hurting the two people who ever loved him, accepted him, the rich orphan no one would dare approach.

No, he won’t tell her. He would keep his feelings to himself. No one would have to know. After all, he is the Uchiha Sasuke, believed to finish his life as a lonely old man. He’d just stick to everyone’s expectations.

That decided, he climbed down the tree and proceeded to go home. Maybe he’d lock himself in his house until the wedding – with beers – because, well, he is the best man, and even though it pained him to attend that fateful day, he must.

He was so absorbed in his thought that he didn’t notice the agitation around him… But then, a piercing scream snapped him to reality. He saw a kid, maybe ten years old, frozen in the middle of the road, a van way past the speed limit coming his way, and a woman – his mom maybe – rooted and screaming on the sidewalk.

Without a second thought, he rushed to the kid and pushed him out of the way; fearing the kid would knock himself on the concrete, hit his head or something. He forgot that he now is in the kid’s place. Suddenly, pain ripped through his right side, and he found himself flying. Then, his head met the solid concrete and felt numb. His vision was filled with black dots and the sound around him seemed like a low buzz.

“Am I going to die?” he mused. Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Should I have told her?” … Her, Hinata… Hinata… Hinata…

**If I told you all the words I’ve yet to say,

Would they matter or would you simply turn and walk away?**

OoooO

“Sa…suke”

“That voice!”

“Sa…suke!” the voice called again.

That soft voice! He knew it! He knew it, he was sure! But whose?

“Sasuke!!” the voice softly cried.

“Hinata!! Hinata is calling me!!” . He forced his eyes open and saw her… Still clad in her wedding dress. So beautiful and… Is that blood? Is she hurt? Why is she crying?

He tried to stand up but found out he couldn’t. Then, he remembered the van, the kid, flying…

“Hi…hinata” he whispered feebly.

“Sasuke! Sasuke! Don’t you dare die on me! An ambulance is on its way!” she exclaimed.

“Hina…” he attempted again. If it was his last day, his last time on earth, he would tell her… Even if it would mean he was giving his last breath.

Gathering his strength, he whispered “I… I… love… you”. He saw her eyes widen and then, he was engulfed in a total darkness, not knowing what she thinks of his last sentence.

**If I hold you, will you tell me I should go?

Do I chance it or would it just be better not to know**

OoooO

Hinata was in front of her mirror, admiring her beautiful dress. It had taken her, Sakura, Ino, Tenten and Hanabi four days to find it. The perfect dress. The top is constituted of spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline and a figure hugging tube top. The bottom blooms like a princess ball gown, puffy and adorned with lace.

She couldn’t help but feel gorgeous. After all, it was what she wanted since she was barely a kindergartener! She was so dazzled by the blond, energetic and sunny kid that was Uzumaki Naruto. He was outspoken, loud and determined to become something great, all that she was not. So she had been easily pulled by his bubbly personality. And in just two days, she’ll rightfully be his wife, like she’d dreamed all along.

**Who’s that girl with a perfect future?

Her reflection says it all**

Yeah, Uzumaki Hinata. That sounds right, ne? She’d be with him for the rest of her life. She can already see it from here. Every day would be filled with laughter, hope and sunshine. And the kids! Will they be as energetic as him? Or as calm as her? She doesn’t know… and she kind of didn’t want to know that yet.

Just like she hoped the wedding day wouldn’t approach that fast. Because she was scared! But what bride-to-be wouldn’t? A marriage is a drastic change, and Hinata doesn’t really like change. Is she ready for that? Is she capable of handling her own family? What if she doesn’t make a good wife? Is it too soon? And what if something doesn’t go well? Like the band canceling last minute, the rain suddenly falling when they planned for an outdoor wedding, the flowers attracting bees and all?

**Trying hard to pretend she’s eager,

Searching for some way to stall**

But… Is she really scared of the change? Or was it the fact that it’s not him? Him, her best friend since middle school. No! What is she thinking? Of course she loves Naruto and is just afraid of something not going as planned on the wedding. That’s it!

“Yeah, keep telling that to yourself” her conscience said to her. “He’s not the one you’re in love with. You really love him, that’s for sure, but just in a brotherly way”

But the wedding is only in two days! She can’t get cold feet now, right? Even though she loved Sasuke… Him and no one else. She did for the longest time but she just ignored that feeling, fearing what he would do if he ever found out she is just another fangirl… Well, she’s not a fan but she has feelings for him so that makes her a fangirl by his standard. That’s why she stuck as his best friend… Even though she took every time they hang out as dates, cherished all the little gifts he gave her since middle high, pressed every flower he gave her and kept them in her diary, let him pick her from work, she always kept her feelings from him… And everyone else, for that matter. He always was there for her, in sickness, in health, in sadness and in happiness, making her love him even more…

**So unsure of the road she’s chosen,

Faced with feelings her heart should not allow**

But she’s getting married. Everything was already organized and ready. The dress, the venue, the guests, the caterer, the food, and even the honeymoon were already set. She just can’t turn back now, right? Everyone would be disappointed in her… Her dad, her sister, Naruto… But she can’t… She doesn’t have enough courage to go through it…

**One thing’s certain it seems that she just can’t turn back now.

If she can, tell her how**

Suddenly, her door flew open and Hanabi rushed in, panicked and panting heavily.

“Hinata!” She took a huge breath. “It’s Sasuke”.

“What? Here?”

Hanabi took one more deep breath before blurting “He got hit by a van down the street! He’s calling you.”

Hinata’s blood turned cold and her face became livid.

“Hinata! Hurry!”

Hanabi’s voice shook her out of her stupor and she dashed outside, her little sister hot on her heels.

She just can’t believe it! What if he …? No! She can’t think like that! She can’t!

She ran to the gathering and saw him there, lying on the concrete, in a pool of blood. She made her way through the throng of people, ignoring their bewildered look upon seeing her dress and kneeled beside him. He seemed like he was dead but she heard his slow breathing, becoming more and more light every second.

“Sasuke!”

Nothing.

“Sasuke!”

Still nothing.

“Sasuke!”

Still no response.

“Please, please, wake up! I need to tell you something!”

She decided then and there that if he ever woke up, she would tell him how she feels. But what if he rejects her? Could she live with that?

“Idiot! Now is not the time to think of that!” she admonished herself.

“Sasuke!”

Her tears finally began to pour down her face like a waterfall.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Hi…Hinata”

Even though it was just a whisper, she heard him and was a little relieved.

“Sasuke! Sasuke! Don’t you dare die on me!”

A siren blared from some blocks down, causing her to feel even more relieved.

“An ambulance is on its way!”

“ Hina” he whispered again, causing her to look at him. He closed his eyes, making her panic raise to full level again. “I… I…”

Why is he still trying to talk?! He’ll only weaken himself!! But she didn’t have the force to speak.

“…love… you.”

What?! Her eyes widened! Did she hear him right? She was too stunned to say anything. But then, his eyes closed.

“NO! no no no, please, please, don’t die…”

Suddenly, medics circled his body and she felt someone trying to make her stand up. They rushed him inside the ambulance and she escaped whoever it was helping her up to join him.

“Are you a family member?” A medic asked.

“I’m his fiancée” she lied.

A look of pity crossed the medic’s face as he said “Ok, hop in.”

**If I told you all the words I’ve yet to say,

Would they matter or would you simply turn and walk away?**

OoooO

Four hours later, she was still in the lobby, near the ER. People gave her pitiful looks – assuming from her red stained wedding dress that it was her husband who was being operated – but she paid it no heed. Hanabi had been there to comfort her but gave up after getting no reaction whatsoever from her sister who was frozen on a seat.

“Hinata!” Naruto exclaimed as he ran to her, forgetting he should keep his volume low. He hugged her and she finally woke up from her trance.

“He…He…” she said between tears.

“He’s gonna be okay Hina” he tried to reassure her. He then looked at her clothes and was shocked. She was wearing her wedding dress! And she was so beautiful!

But it was stained with huge, red splotches of blood. His eyes widened as his gaze took in her entire appearance.

Hinata saw him watch her and followed his gaze.

“Oh my God! Naruto! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed when she finally registered the fact that she ruined her dress.

“Don’t worry Hina! It’s just a dress. You can have a new one,” he said. He looked her straight in the eyes, blue eyes so intense she could swear he saw right into her soul. Then, he sighed. “But you won’t need it right?” he continued sadly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” she confusedly asked.

“You do love him Hina…”

“How?”

“I guess I knew it all along but I selfishly ignored it.” His tone was so sad her heart broke for him. “He does love you too, you know? But you guys were never doing anything about it so I took my chance… I was kinda worried that if you two ever hooked up, you would forget about me.”

She hugged him as hard as she could, as if her life depended on it, as if she could take all his pain if she held him strong enough.

“I’m going to cancel the wedding” he finally said after a long time, “and then, I’ll come back here. Hana-chan is already getting you some clothes.”

He got up. “I’ll be back soon, Hina! And don’t worry! That teme is a fighter! He won’t die that easily, believe it!”

He gave her one of his trademark grin and she found herself more hopeful.

OoooO

Seventeen months later.

It was now seventeen months since that fateful night. Seventeen months during which Sasuke had been in coma. Seventeen months Hinata came in the hospital daily. Seventeen months since she lived on autopilot: getting up, getting ready and heading for the hospital, staying with Sasuke till the visiting hours were over, going home and sleeping.

These seventeen months had been hell for her, beginning with her family’s disappointed remarks – silenced by Hanabi and Naruto – due to the canceling of her wedding, to hoping every day that he would wake up and finding him still unconscious, and ending with the doctors trying to convince her to debranch him since the last two months.

But she refused and still got to his room because she had faith in him. She knew he would someday wake up.

“Sasuke” she began, like every day. “ Why didn’t I tell you sooner?”

She took his hand.

“Now, I feel guilty for hiding that from you…”

Silence.

“Please, wake up”

Still nothing.

“Well, Tenten-chan and Neji-niichan are heading home today with little Haruka. The doctor said she and the baby are well and strong enough now… Hana-chan and Naruto-kun are on their first date too today. I’m really happy for them. They really deserve each other.” She told his unmoving form, smiling slightly.

“Oh Sasuke! Can you please wake up?” she pleaded, her hands clasping his, her eyes tearing. “I… I need you… I love you! I love you Sasuke!”

She cried some more and fell asleep.

OoooO

She was suddenly woken up by nurses and doctors barging into his room.

“Uh? What…?” she began to ask but was ushered outside by a nurse before she could form a coherent sentence.

“Stay there dear” she said firmly and closed the door.

Hinata sat herself on a nearby chair and waited. “What just happened? Is he okay? Is he waking up? Or is he… Is he…? No! I can’t think that way! I have to stay positive! Positive, girl!”

OoooO

After nearly an hour, all the nurses and the two doctors came out. One of them walked to her.

“Miss Hyuuga? He’s stable and conscious.”

“He woke up?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, he did. You can see him if you want but don’t let him tire himself. Also, we still have to run some tests to see if his cerebral activities are okay or if he has amnesia, like many people undergoing such long coma do.”

“You mean, he can forget everything?”

“Not entirely everything. Maybe some period of his life, some people or some feelings… but for now, we’re not sure as he seems to remember his identity. Now, I won’t take more of your time because you must be dying to see him. But please, be cautious.”

And then, the doctor was gone.

She entered his room.

“Hey” she hesitantly said. Will he recognize her?

“Hey Hina” he replied, smiling slightly.

It was all she needed to run and hug him, as much as she could with all the wires still attached to him.

“Oh Sasuke! You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to see you awake again!”

Her tears began to flood again.

“Hina! Don’t – don’t cry! I’m alright! See?” he reassured her while returning her hug.

After a long – really really long – hug, he asked “So, where’s the dobe?”

“Uh, he’s on a date…”

“A date?” he interrupted her. “That idiot is on a date when he has an adorable and loving wife like you?! That idiot! I’m going to kill him!!”

He was already beginning to plan many ways to torture then kill that blonde friend of his when he heard her crystalline laughter. She was… laughing?

“Uh? What did I miss?” he asked her.

“Sasuke, Naruto-kun and I are not married. We canceled the wedding.”

“But… But you love each other!”

Then, a huge blank followed.

Hinata’s heart thumped loudly. Should she tell him? Of course she should! But what if he doesn’t return her feelings?

“He already confessed, right?” her conscience reminded her.

“Yeah, but what if he forgot about it? Something to do with post-traumatic stress or something like that?” she argued back.

“Idiot! Just tell him you love him! After all, you wanted to. You promised yourself you would confess when he woke up. Now, he did so woman up and do it!”

“No, Sasuke. Actually, I…”

**If I hold you, will you tell me I should go?

Do I chance it or would it just be better not to know?**

OoooO

“She doesn’t love the dobe anymore? Wow, does it mean I still have a chance? Or does it mean she already has someone else?”

“Do you have someone else Hina?”

“How would I say it? I don’t know?”

“You don’t know?” He asked, clearly confused.

“No, I don’t have anyone else… but…”

“Yes, oh God, thank you! Thank you! I can tell her freely now!” he thought.

“I love you” they both blurted at the same time.

Huuuge blank.

Then, when they realized what they heard, they both chuckled and resumed their hug.

“Hey, Hime” Sasuke called.

“Yes?” she looked up.

Then he kissed her. Hinata immediately returned his kiss, barely registering the sound of the heart rate monitor becoming louder.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time.” He said when they finally broke the kiss to take a breath.

“Well, you then have a long time to make up for.” She teasingly replied before they kissed again, catching up the lost time.

**Would it just be better not to know?**

#fanfic #songfic #if i told you #naruto #sasuke #hinata #hinata hyuga #sasuhina

26 notes · View notes

colbybrocksmolder · 5 years

Text

Blue - Colby Brock x Reader - Part 1/3

I just want to start this out by saying that there’s mention of a past shitty relationship in this. Nothing is described in detail and it’s not crazy, but I figured I’d mention it just in case someone didn’t want to read this one. Also, I know that Colby’s apartment is the single bedroom version, but I wrote it more like Sam’s apartment. 2 bedrooms. Other than that, enjoy.

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

“Yo, Mike!” Colby called, walking into Sam’s apartment. The weekly pizza party was well underway, as Colby searched through half empty boxes for a slice of pizza that didn’t have any vegetables on it.

“What’s up?” Mike called back, over the noise of the multiple conversations all happening at once in the living room.

“Dude, do you remember that artist I sent you a few months back? The girl that does super chill covers of like og emo songs?” Colby asked him, walking towards the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. You sent me the Taking Back Sunday cover, right?” Mike answered.

“Brother! She just covered one of your songs.” Colby said, tossing Mike his phone.

“No fucking way.” Mike said, putting the phone speaker close to his ear trying to hear it. “It’s too fucking loud in here”, he grumbled, hopping over the back of the couch and walking into Sam’s filming room.

Colby followed, closing the door behind him. “Start it over! I haven’t listened to it yet.”

Mike turned the volume all the way up and set the phone down in front of the both of them. The piano started a few seconds before the lyrics to “Bottles” beautifully flowed from her mouth.

“This is unreal.” Mike said, pointing to his arm. “I have goosebumps, dude.”

“Her voice gets me every time.” Colby added, shoving his pizza into his mouth.

Suddenly the filming room door swung open, Sam walking in. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to stay here overnight again.” Sam whined, laughing.

“SSSSSHHHHHHHHHH” was the response he got, both Mike and Colby urging him to shut up.

“Jeez.” Sam threw his hands up in defense, walking over to see what they were doing. “Whoa, is this y/n?” Sam asked Colby.

“Covering my song.” Mike said, continuing to stare at the screen.

Slowly a few curious others in the group made their way into the small room. “Who was that?” Kat asked, having heard the last half of the song.

Colby turned around, seeing everyone standing behind him. “Holy shit!” he jumped, laughing. “I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

“Her name is Y/n. She’s this cover artist that Colby has been listening to for like 3 years. She posts her own songs too, but she’s known for doing covers of songs that aren’t really ‘pretty’ songs and turning them into…well what you just heard.” Sam explained.

“She’s got a beautiful voice.” Kat replied, leaning down to look at the phone. “The video has over 200k views, too. That’s good exposure for you, Mike.”

“No way.” Colby grabbed his phone. “I got the video notification less than an hour ago.”

“This is nuts.” Mike said, grabbing his own phone.

Looking underneath the video title, Colby read the description to himself. “Dude, dude, dude. Listen to this.” he said, reading the description out loud. “Hey everyone! Today’s cover means a lot to me. For those of you that follow my blog, you know that I’ve been struggling to feel motivated to continue posting videos. Lately it feels like so many artists just want to drag other artists. There’s a lot of negativity and judgement and honestly, it just feels shallow and fake.”

“Preach, girl.” Kat half mumbled.

Colby laughed, continuing. “Over the last month or so, I’ve been fortunate enough to have found quite a few new artists that have inspired me to continue pushing the genre boundaries. Mike’s Dead is one of those artists.” Colby paused to slap Mike on the shoulder before continuing. “He posts what he wants to post and it’s so refreshing to see someone that doesn’t really care if you like it or not. It doesn’t matter if you fit in a cookie cutter mold. It doesn’t matter if you like sad songs or gospel songs or rap songs. It doesn’t matter if you wear short skirts or baggy t shirts or too much eye liner. If you want to create, create. The world needs more people creating and less people tearing others down. Thank you, Mike. You’ll probably never see this, but if you do, I hope you enjoy it. -Love, Y/n. #DeadArmy”

“Damn, son.” Kevin yelled, “My boy out here reachin’ people!” He threw his arms around Mike, jumping up and down.

“I don’t even know what to do.” Mike said, falling back on the couch. “Do I dm her? Do I tweet out the cover? Do I ask her to marry me?” he laughed.

“Damnit, you’re taller than me AND you make music. There go my chances with her.” Colby laughed.

“I’m gonna tweet this out. Do you know her twitter handle?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Right here.” Colby pointed to her social media list in her description.

“How does this sound?” Mike said, reading his tweet. “I’m speechless. @ColbyBrock just showed me the most breathtaking cover of one of my songs posted by @y/n. I literally have no words. *link* Everyone go show this girl all the love!”

“Go for it, dude. I’ll retweet it.” Colby replied. Everyone else in the room grabbed their phones to do the same. Colby hit the retweet button, adding his own message. “I’ve been listening to this girl for a few years now and it’s CRAZY to see her cover one of my friend’s songs. She has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Everybody check the video out and fill the comment section with love!”

Everybody made sure to follow her twitter and sub to her channel.

Mike scrolled through the responses he got to his tweet. “Someone just replied asking if this was why my subscribers went up so quickly.”

“Check your live count.” Sam said, writing out his own retweet. “Living with @ColbyBrock I’ve definitely heard all of this girl’s covers at least a hundred times. You are going to be blown away by what she did with Mike’s song. Go listen!”

“Holy shit, my subs have doubled.” Mike said, throwing his phone to Colby. “I don’t know what’s going on. Someone tell me we have alcohol in this apartment.”

“Next door, brother. My place, above the dishwasher. Grab whatever.” Colby replied, watching Mike’s live sub count continue to grow.

The next morning, Colby woke up to a follow notification and a dm from y/n. “Hey! Omg! Thank you so much for passing my cover on to Mike. And thank you for saying such kind things. I woke up to THOUSANDS of comments from your fans and all of them were lovely.”

“Holy shit”, Colby swore, sitting up in his bed. He looked through his notifications and saw a few texts from Mike, as well, from over an hour ago.

Mike – Dude

Mike – Brother

Mike – She messaged me

Mike – I asked her if she would ever be interested in recording together

Colby – She dm’d me too. I just woke up so I haven’t messaged her back yet. Did she answer you???

Colby started writing out his response to y/n. “You are so welcome! We were both blown away by the cover. You did an amazing job. I’m trying so hard not to fanboy right now, haha. I’m happy to hear that the Sam and Colby fans have been kind to you. I’d like to think we have the best fans ever.”

He quickly saw the little typing bubble pup up. “Haha, you don’t seem like the type to fanboy. And yes, I didn’t see a single mean comment.”

*incoming call – Dead Boy*

Colby picked up the phone “Miiiiiiiike!”

Mike laughed, “Holy shit. I just got off of FaceTime with Y/n.”

“WHAT?!” Colby’s voice cracked.

“Dude, she’s so cool. She seems totally down to come to LA.” Mike laughed at Colby’s reaction.

“This is crazy.” Colby said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “When is she going to visit?”

“She said she just needs to figure out where to stay.” Mike explained. “She wants to come down for like a month so we can write and she can work with a few other people. She talked to Kat too!”

“Did you tell her she could easily stay with one of us? We’ve got a few open rooms between our little group.” Colby asked.

“Of course, but she kept saying she couldn’t impose on us like that.” Mike replied. “I told her she wouldn’t be, but she insisted.”

“She wouldn’t be at all!” Colby agreed. “Dude, we have friends crash with us all the time!”

“I know, I know. I didn’t want to push it, though. Maybe she is just uncomfortable not having her own space.” Mike suggested.

“Maybe”, Colby replied. “Well keep me in the loop, man. This still seems so crazy.” He laughed.

“Of course, dude. I’ll catch you later.”

After saying their goodbyes, Colby reopened Y/n’s dm and started typing. “Believe me, Y/n, I have my fanboy moments, haha.”

He added another message before she could reply. “I just got off the phone with Mike! I’m stoked to hear you’re going to try to visit! I just wanted to make sure you know that you’re more than welcome to stay with one of us. I’ve got a whole spare bedroom set up and so does Kat. And there’s always room at Mike’s place, too. I totally get it if you’re just not comfortable because you don’t know us, but I wanted to let you know you wouldn’t be imposing on anyone. Promise.”

“Maybe I’ll get to witness one of these ‘fanboy’ moments myself, Brock.” Y/n replied. “And omg no! It’s not that I don’t trust you guys. Honestly, I’m excited to meet your whole group of friends. You guys seem so chill. I just won’t be traveling alone.”

Colby cocked his head a bit reading the last dm. “Oooh, are you visiting with your boyfriend or something?” He replied, mumbling “figures” to himself.

“LOL, that’s a big no.” she quickly replied.

“Thank god.” Colby said out loud, seeing the typing bubble pop back up.

“I have never posted this online, but I have a 2 and a half year-old daughter. Her dad will never be in our lives again for multiple reasons.” She wrote. “I couldn’t ask anyone to host both of us for that long. Being a single parent is work and I don’t want to interrupt someone else’s life that drastically.”

Colby’s eyes widened. “Whooaaa”, he said out loud, re-reading her last dm. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he still couldn’t really come up with any reasons why they couldn’t stay with him. He actually likes kids and kids tend to like him. “Damn, praise to you for doing it alone. I can’t imagine how much work it takes.” Colby typed back.

“Thanks, lol. It’s definitely work, but once you actually become a parent it’s just…worth it. Her name is Ivy and she’s my everything.” Y/n typed back.

Taking a deep breath, Colby started typing. “First, what a cute name. Second, at the risk of me sounding pushy, I’m going to offer you my spare bedroom again. I swear on my YouTube channel you won’t be imposing at all. I have this place to myself and I love kids. There could be toys and other kid stuff strewn all over the apartment and I promise, it’d be fine. You don’t have to decide now, but just think about it okay?”

Colby didn’t get a message back for a solid 5 minutes and he started to worry that he had overstepped. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he finally got her reply. “The kindness and hospitality you guys have already shown me has blown me away. I promise I’ll consider it. And thank you for going out of your way to make me feel welcome. I am very much looking forward to meeting you. <3”

“I’m glad to hear it. And ditto. I can’t wait to finally meet you. Honestly, y/n, your music is my go-to when I need to get out of my own head.” He replied. “I have to go shower and get ready to film a video. Let me know what you decide!”

“Will do, Brock. <3.”

Over the next few weeks plans were made, friendships grew, late night talks were had….and finally, the day everyone had been waiting for was just around the corner.

“Okay, I’m in. As long as you’re sure you’re okay living with my crazy little girl for a while, I’ll start my road trip to LA this weekend.” Y/n said into the phone, watching her daughter eat an apple pancake while watching one of her favorite movies.

“Yessss” she heard Colby cheer into phone. “Have you talked to Mike and Kat yet?”

“Yeah, they know I’m heading down soon.” She replied. “Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a better time. I need a new adventure and I think we could both use some California sunshine.”

“Well, California is waiting for you. I know you’re driving here so you can bring whatever you need for Ivy but let me know if you need me to pick anything up.” He told her. “I made you a set of keys, I’ve removed anything dangerous from the bottom half of my apartment, I got those little clear plug things to make sure the outlets are safe, there’s a baby gate on the stairs….” Colby started rambling. He had been doing everything he could to baby proof his place.

“Colby!” Y/n laughed, interrupting his run-on sentence. “You are too good to me. I promise your place is fine as-is. Ivy has grown up around all of my recording equipment and she’s never once gotten hurt. If there’s anything I’m worried about, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Sorry.” Colby laughed. “I think I’m just excited to meet both of you.”

Ivy squealed, laughing at her favorite part in the movie. “Well we’re both excited to meet you, too.”

Colby, Sam, Kat and Mike were all hanging out in Colby’s apartment, waiting for Y/n to arrive. Colby had just gotten a text from her saying she was getting off of the freeway.

“She’s only like 5 minutes away so I’m going to meet her down where I told her to park.” Colby said, slipping on his Vans.

“We probably shouldn’t all meet her down there, right?” Sam asked. “If I rolled up to a new place and a mob of people greeted me at my car door, I may not want to get out”, he laughed.

“She also doesn’t know we’re here.” Mike chuckled.

“I’ll go down alone and then I can text you guys to come down and help bring her stuff up. Does that work?” Colby asked, headed to his door.

“Sounds like a plan.” Kat replied. When Colby left the apartment, she turned to the two other boys. “He seem off to either of you?”

“He’s nervous.” Sam smiled, knowing Colby better than anyone else on the planet.

“He hasn’t talked about anything but y/n since she posted that cover.” Mike added. “I thought I was hella excited about this, but meeting her is a whole other thing to him.”

“Her music means a lot to him.” Sam explained. “Yeah, her covers are what she’s known for, but he loves her original stuff. When we lived together, I could always tell when Colby was anxious because I’d hear her music coming from his room.”

“Aww, that’s actually super sweet.” Kat gushed.

Downstairs, Colby was watching the gate. He knew she drove a black SUV and that she would pull in any minute. Finally spotting her, he waved her in and pointed towards the spot where she could park.

Climbing out of the driver’s seat, Y/n opened the back driver’s side door to check on Ivy. “Colby?” she called, peeking around the back.

“I’m here!” he laughed, walking towards Y/n with his arms open. “I’m glad you guys made it safe.” He said, pulling her into a long-awaited hug.

“Same.” She replied, wrapping her arms around him. “California drivers are crazy.” She chuckled.

“That is a fact.” He replied, looking into the car to see Ivy asleep in her car-seat. “She is freaken adorable.”

“Thanks.” Y/n smiled up at him. “She just fell asleep, too. I’m going to try not to wake her up.”

“Mike, Kat, and Sam are upstairs. I’ll text them to come down and help grab stuff. We can probably make it in one trip.” Colby said, texting Sam and telling them to head down. He sent another message saying that Ivy was asleep and that they shouldn’t yell.

“Oh, my god. I get to meet so many of you right away.” y/n said, unbuckling Ivy.

“We’re all a little excited.” Colby laughed. “Where is her playpen so I can grab that first. Then she’ll have a place to nap.”

“It’s that red thing right there”, she pointed, pulling Ivy to rest against her chest.

“Is it easy to set up or should I hold the little one while you use mom witchery to put it together?” Colby said, laughing.

“Actually, you may be on to something there. If you’re sure you’re okay holding Ivy, I’ll hand you her and her bag and I’ll grab the important stuff out of the back.” Y/n answered, turning so It would be easier to pass off Ivy.

“Of course I’m okay holding her.” Colby said, rubbing her back before moving her from Y/n’s chest to his. He gently swayed, hoping to keep her asleep.

The rest of the group walked out of the elevator and straight towards the SUV. “Awwww, Sam. Look at him holding the little girl.” Kat quietly spoke to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, I can’t lie. That shit is cute as fuck.” Mike giggled, looking at Sam and Kat.

Y/n turned towards the laughter and saw the group. She let out a quiet squeal and ran towards them. “This feels unreal.” She said, hugging them each. “I feel like I’ve talked to you guys nonstop for weeks and now I’m here and it’s just…Oh, my god.”

“Well we are so happy you made the trip.” Kat said, pulling her into another hug.

Colby walked towards them, cradling Ivy against his chest. “I’m going to head up with her if that’s okay, y/n?” He was rubbing soothing circles into Ivy’s back. “A car honked and startled her awake, but I think I got her to fall back asleep.”

“Aww, you’re a natural.” y/n smiled at him, leaning in to press a kiss to her daughter’s temple. “I’ll let them know what else needs to be brought up and we’ll meet you up there in a minute.”

Colby walked towards the elevators and the rest of them walked towards the SUV.

“There’s not too much other than the bags to bring up. I decided it was easier to buy a few things new than to try to break them down, pack them, and rebuild them.” Y/n said, grabbing things out of the back.

“I don’t blame you.” Kat replied, grabbing one of the bags. “I’ll go with you to pick up what you need from the store.”

“Thank you! That’s perfect. I’m going to need to pick up coffee on the way, too.” Y/n said, walking back to the front of the car and grabbing her handbag.

“There’s a coffee shop on every corner, here. Caffeine is a way of life.” Sam said, making sure they had grabbed everything y/n needed out of the car.

“There’s actually a huge baby/kids store like 2 miles up the road.” Mike added, closing the hatch to the SUV. When he turned around, everyone was staring at him wondering why he knew that. “Oh. Yeah. I pranked Aryia while he was on keto by replacing everything in our fridge with baby food”, he laughed.

“That makes a lot more sense.” Sam nodded.

When the group finally made it up to Colby’s apartment, Sam led the way in. They tried to stay as quiet as possible. “Colby?” Y/n whispered, looking to ask where the best place to set up the playpen was.

“His spare room is this way.” Kat led the line of people carrying bags. “Lets just put all of your stuff in here and you can sort it when you aren’t afraid to make noise.”

The boys set the bags they were carrying by the closet and left to find Colby. When Kat and Y/n walked out of the spare room, they saw Sam and Mike both taking pictures of something on the couch.

“Tell me that isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Mike turned to the girls, showing them one of the pictures.

Colby had taken Ivy upstairs and laid down on the couch, hoping to keep the little girl asleep while they waited for y/n. Ivy was laying on his chest, one of his hands resting on her back, and Colby had fallen asleep. The two of them peacefully napping, tucked into the corner of the couch.

“Send me that one.” Y/n said, smiling down at the scene in front of her. “I was going to write a blog post about her and this trip at some point tonight and that picture is perfect for it.”

“He didn’t sleep at all last night, so I’m not surprised he fell asleep.” Sam chuckled.

“Well, I vote we leave the boys here and we make that run to the store.” Kat said, linking arms with Y/n.

“I don’t want to leave you guys to take care of her, though.” Y/n said, explaining her worry. “If she wakes up and gets fussy or something, I don’t want you guys to have to deal with that.”

“Y/n, she’s going to be fine. I’ve snuggled against that chest. It’s hella comfortable. She isn’t going to wake up.” Mike joked.

Sam laughed, “Also, we’ve all babysat before. I’ve passed diaper duty training AND I’m a whiz with snacks.”

“We’ll be 5 minutes away, max.” Kat added.

“This is all too easy. You guys are too nice.” Y/n felt her eyes water a bit. “I am not used to anyone caring this much.” She tried to wipe the tears away before they fell.

“Well get used to it.” Kat said, wrapping her arms around y/n. “Our group of friends has kind of adopted you guys at this point and you haven’t even met everyone.”

“Seriously.” Mike said, standing up and pulling y/n into a hug. “We’re all happy to have you guys here.”

The shopping trip was a success and the girls were headed back to the apartment. Colby woke up to the feeling of something in his hair. Ivy was snuggled between Colby and the back of the couch, her tiny fingers running through his blue hair. Colby looked over at the other couch to see Sam asleep and Mike holding his phone out, recording him.

Colby turned his head to look at Ivy and her fingers stopped moving for a second. She looked at his hair and mumbled out the word “blue.”

Colby couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are correct. And so so cute”, he smiled at the little girl.

She then took her pointer finger and ever so gently, put it under one of Colby’s eyes. She smiled and squealed out a higher pitched “blue!”

“I see a reoccurring theme here, kiddo.” He laughed, turning his head when he heard the door open.

“It’s official. I caught the cutest thing in the world on camera.” Mike yelled, waking up Sam. He sent Y/n the video in a text. “How do you not constantly record her?”

“Oh, god. She’s going to leave California with her own YouTube channel, isn’t she?” Y/n laughed, her and Kat taking the purchases to the spare bedroom.

With the 5 adults MOSTLY helping, the spare room and the few things spread around the apartment came together fairly quickly. As the evening was winding down, plans were made for the following days. A trip to the slap house, A lunch with Kat so that she could meet the rest of the girls, and of course…where this whole journey started. Pizza night. Everyone wanted y/n to get settled before they locked themselves in creative mode and started writing and working on music.

Sam and Kat headed off to Sam’s apartment and after Mike finished making plans with y/n, he headed off as well.

Colby and Ivy were both sprawled out on the couch watching a movie while Y/n unpacked all of their clothes into the spare bedroom closet. He looked over at Ivy, laughing when he saw her yawn for the hundredth time. “You sleepy, kiddo?” Ivy shook her head no, her eyes going back to the Tv. Big Hero 6 playing for the third time since she had woken up from her nap. Hearing a knock on his door, Colby yelled for whoever it was to come in.

“Everyone already leave?” Jake asked, Tara following him into the apartment.

“You just missed Mike. Sam and Kat left a while ago.” Colby replied.

Jake saw Ivy peek over the arm of couch at him and Tara. “Well aren’t you the cutest thing in the world”, he said, walking towards the living room.

Ivy giggled and climbed over Colby, hiding between him and the back of the couch. “I don’t know how she’s still awake.” Colby laughed, slipping his arms around the squirmy little girl. “Ivy this is Jake and Tara.”

Ivy waved, saying a little “hi” before her attention fell back on the television screen, her head falling against Colby’s chest.

“Y/n’s just unpacking stuff in there.” Colby pointed towards the spare bedroom.

Tara grabbed Jake’s hand, pulling him to follow her into the open door of the spare room. After introductions, Tara stayed to help with the unpacking and Jake went back out to chill with Colby and Ivy.

“How’s it going so far?” Jake quietly asked, sitting on the coffee table facing Colby.

“Terrifyingly easy.” Colby answered, looking down and finding Ivy fast asleep.

“Well that’s a good thing, right?”, Jake said. “Y/n seems to fit right in. Her and Tara are bonding over SpongeBob memes as we speak.”

“That’s the terrifying part.” Colby said, gently brushing Ivy’s hair out of her face. “They’re here for a month. They’ve only been here for like 7 hours and I’m already sad that they’re going to leave.”

Jake watched Colby gazing down at the tiny sleeping figure in his arms. “I don’t know, brother. You’re usually a loner that likes his space. You might be happy when you’ve got your apartment back”, Jake laughed.

Colby just sighed. *what the fuck am I getting myself into?* he thought to himself....................

part 2

part 3

#Colby Brock #Colby Brock x Reader #Colby Brock imagine #Colby Brock fic #Colby Brock fanfiction

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svtskneecaps · 4 years

Text

i’ve been enabled

here’s the sitch on the goddamn harry potter hogwarts mystery app game

it fucking sucks

here’s my main issues in a handy list i’ll go down later:

the gameplay

energy

art / visuals

the story

the writing

the choose your own adventure like elements (technically gameplay since there isn’t much else l m a o)

and i have receipts for most of this stuff. fun fact, i’ve been taking videos of all plot relevant events since year 1.

some context:

i’ve played up to year 3 myself. i have watched up until the very beginning of year 5 in someone’s youtube series (will bits? that was his main character [henceforth referred to as MC]’s name, however that was a year ago and it was in the background like a podcast so the details are sort of fuzzy. i have not played the game since march (it’s september, ish), but i’m loading it up as i type this just to get a feel for it

idk whether to assume my audience has or hasn’t played the game. i’ll keep my complaints as clear as possible.

i’m mainly an author so the storytelling sections are where i’m really going to pop off, since that’s something i have the most experience with and passion in, but i’ll be touching on everything else because compounded it’s all pissing me off lmao

[a couple hints at spoilers for maybe an event in year 1, and year 3, but nothing major]

let’s start with: THE GAMEPLAY

there isn’t any

literally. there’s like. zero gameplay.

you tap some highlighted figures, and then sometimes you get to trace a little shape, and sometimes you get to play rock paper scissors to fight somebody (they did manage to make duelling slightly better but it’s still not good by any standard)

sometimes you get to choose between three dialogue options, but those have barely any impact on the story or on your character. any impact they have is limited to a couple stat points, or maybe some house points, or like. some event at the end of the year. but like barely any make any real serious difference (but i’ll touch on that more later)

and then there’s the factor of stat points (and this gets kind of mathy, so feel free to skip to the bolded sentence)

for those who haven’t played the game, you have three stats (empathy, courage, and knowledge) that you can level up by taking classes, 1, 3, or 8 hours, for various rewards

back when i stopped playing, i had gained 8914 points in courage. if i recall correctly i was only about halfway to leveling up that stat. if you take an 8 hour class, you receive consistently 200 stat points, with a possibility of extra rewards that i can’t count for since those are randomly generated.

to get those 8914 points, i would have had to take 44.57 8 hour classes (while 8 hour they only take about 7, counting for the 2 hours it takes my energy to recharge to full). with 44.57 classes taking 7 hours each, to get halfway to level 24, i would have had to have done:

THIRTEEN STRAIGHT DAYS OF GRINDING, ASSUMING THAT ALL I HAD BEEN DOING WAS CHECKING ON THE HARRY POTTER HOGWARTS MYSTERY APP

and again, I WAS ONLY LIKE HALFWAY TO LEVELLING UP

I AM BARELY BEGINNING FOURTH YEAR. I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THIS GAME.

i think they’ve fixed this now; it said i had 8914/1550 courage and when i got stat points it fixed itself and jumped me from level 23 to 28, so thanks for that jam city.

but it doesn’t change the fact that the grinding is fucking horrible and i’ve done my fair share of hours, and who knows what it’s going to look like when i get to a higher level again

the energy

yes, i know it’s an app game. i know they want my money. but holy FUCK the energy recharges disgustingly slowly, and every bit they expand my energy bar is an insult

“here, have another energy capacity!” they say, and then add to the amount of energy it takes to complete a task at the same time, so now shit just takes me even damn longer

it’s an insult. don’t think i didn’t fuckin notice jam city.

since it’s an app game, naturally, energy requires paying real world money or the (semi) rare in-game currency to get more if you blow through your bar. they want your money. i know they want my money, but it doesn’t make me any less disappointed by how damn blatant they’re being. app games like bakery story probably also want my money, but at least those are still fun to play.

the art / visuals

now i’m not an artist. nor am i a 3-d modeller. but if solo indie devs and 10 men teams can make video games that have to have models with a much fuller range of motion (since there’s ACTUAL GAMEPLAY and not just little cutscenes of characters moving around) and that don’t make me sick to watch, then jam city working on a HARRY POTTER GAME should be able to (jk rowling fucking sucks but her books have brought in so much goddamn money that they can afford to pay their devs enough to make the game look good; in this case i’m not entirely sure where the blame lies)

there’s like. 10 motions characters can use while in the cutscenes and talking. like 10. and i can recognize every one of them, and there is not a single motion unique to a character. the characters are something i’ll touch on later in the storytelling sections, though. just, please god give them SOMETHING even SLIGHTLY different. like make two versions of a couple of the crowd animations at LEAST, so that when people celebrate at the end of the year there’s not twenty people in the shot doing the same “pump my fists in the air in celebration” motion at the exact same time. PLEASE.

sometimes animations in story events and classes sync up too, which is. beyond distracting. like it’s completely immersion breaking and i mean please, please jam city, if you haven’t fixed that please fix it. please.

the animations that roll in flying class are fun, ONCE. when you’ve seen them eight hundred thousand times because you’re grinding up your courage stat, they get hella boring. all of the classes are like this to some extent but flying is the biggest offender since those were the longest animations. if they haven’t implemented a skip button since i last played it, they should. they fuckin should.

also the fertilizer animation in the greenhouse scenes is gross. you pick up a deformed cone of dirt with your shovel like a slice of cake and then shove it clipping through the edges of a pot, where it disappears without a trace. i hate it. jam city please make the game look good.

if you still play the game please tell me it looks better; i’ll be playing through a couple things after i post this but it’s hphm. it’s gonna take me a goddamn long time to hit all the points and confirm whether what i complained about has been fixed or not

also also, wearing dresses is so distracting, especially while dueling. the way the dress flexes around your legs is like you’re wearing clothing made from jello and when my character does the idle animation her hands clip through her skirt, and there’s all kids of glitches with hair where it clips through outfits (and why in the fuck do the necklaces float a full foot from the character’s body)

the storytelling

alright there’s a lot to cover so strap in

i’m not mad about the story having some of the same beats as harry potter. whatever, right? if it worked, it worked. having a big climax at the end of the year just works well for storytelling. having a school bully antagonist also works well for easy storytelling (it’s kinda cheap, but whatever works, right?) it’s what you DO with the archetypes you use that makes or breaks your story

jam city broke it

i don’t know how to organize my thoughts so here’s a bulleted list

it is very clearly obvious they wrote this as they went along (ex. a previously unseen character pops up in year 3 and was supposedly the best friend of your greatest enemy in previous years) and didn’t think to fix the plot holes

there’s too many goddamn characters (i love them, but with a big cast comes a whole host of problems [I WRITE FOR A KPOP GROUP WITH 13 MEMBERS, I HAVE A LOT OF EXPERIENCE WITH THAT], and we’ll get there)

there’s too much goddamn filler for the sake of forcing us to spend time and in-game energy (yes i KNOW it’s an app game and they want our money but THEY COULD BE A LITTLE MORE SUBTLE ABOUT IT)

what honestly pisses me off the most about it is that IT COULD BE GOOD

IF THE STORY WERE GOOD, I WOULD FUCKIN IGNORE ALL OF THAT OTHER SHIT

but it’s not, and here’s the biggest gripe i have:

none of the choices you make matter. none of them. to the point where it’s immersion breaking at BEST

for example, while my MC is a hufflepuff, i know a lot of people play in slytherin. scenes where snape gets upset with your character and takes away house points no longer make sense for a slytherin MC, because snape would be infinitely more likely to give you three years of nightly detentions, or pitch you off the astronomy tower, than he would be to take house points from slytherin

honestly, they should have waited. if they wanted to put choose your own adventure elements into the game, they should have planned out every single one of those story arcs in detail, and THEN released the game. they could leave some of the more basic choices in and those choices only mattering for short term effects wouldn’t irk me as much as it does right now because THERE WOULD BE CHOICES THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE.

your very first choice over how you felt about your brother’s disappearance only matters for what wand you get (which i immediately forgot which really says something about the impact of that choice :)))) ). no matter what you pick, you still end up chasing after him for the rest of the game, so who cares?

story beats don’t land different based on your house. you could absolutely play it that merula hates you regardless of your house, that’s fine. just remember that if your MC is slytherin and lives in the female dorms, she probably shares a room with merula. which makes things fucky for all kinds of reasons, none of which jam city addresses in the current game, as far as i’m aware

also, there’s the deal with rowan

rowan is a character that goes into your mc’s chosen house no matter what (and as rowan changes pronouns with your player, i’ll be using “they” [or “she” as my player is a she and that’s what i’m used to; i’ll try to refrain but i might slip up occasionally] ). as far as i can tell, rowan’s personality remains the same no matter what house you’re in. they don’t try to play up the traits that match the house, rowan is just usually a sweet bookworm. why would the hat have put them in gryffindor? rowan khanna for me has never seemed to display any gryffindorish traits; or at the very least, no traits that should be prioritized over, say, the ravenclaw traits they have VERY STRONGLY (since rowan fills a sort of hermione role; rowan knows things about things and is your go to for research)

can we just put rowan in ravenclaw? sure, it would make it hard for fans in different houses to communicate between each other about the story for a time since certain sequences of events would play out differently, but here’s the thing:

if events play out differently based on your choices, people will want to play your game multiple times to get every ending

that’s the fun of a choose your own adventure game. if events play out distinctly differently if you’re a hufflepuff or a ravenclaw or a slytherin or a gryffindor, then people will want to play through the game four times at LEAST, once for each house, to get all the fun pieces of story (WHICH MEANS, they’ll be spending more and more time and using more and more energy, so you can make the same amount of money off people buying energy and watching the ads and maybe MORE while being able to cut out some of the more shitty pieces of filler)

in the current version, your house is just, what color are your robes and who is your prefect. i haven’t watched anyone who wasn’t a hufflepuff, but i’m sure that certain scenes and conflicts play out the exact same no matter what house you’re in

as an example, your house should affect how the duelling confrontation in year one should have gone. snape and flitwick should have different dialogue based on whether you’re a slytherin, or a ravenclaw, or a gryffindor, or a hufflepuff. snape fucking hates gryffindors, so he should be far less lenient against gryffindors, and on the flip side he should be battling between himself with how strict to be if you’re a slytherin; maybe he hates your guts because of a grudge against your brother, but you’re still in his house and we all know snape plays favorites. flitwick should be more disappointed if you’re a ravenclaw, because that’s his house and he had higher expectations for you. neither of them have many ties to hufflepuff that would skew the confrontation in a drastic direction, but had this been the first version of the game, then the confrontation that plays out in the current version we have would work fine for hufflepuff; you’re one of flitwick’s favorite charms students and he taught you this skill, and he’s disappointed to see you use it in this way, but not nearly as much as if you were one of his own

AND NOW PEOPLE WANT TO PLAY THE GAME MULTIPLE TIMES TO GET ALL THE DIALOGUE, WHICH MEANS MORE TIME, MORE ENERGY, AND MORE MONEY, JAM CITY, ARE YOU HEARING THIS??? MORE MONEY!!!!! IT’S A WIN WIN FOR EVERYONE

while we’re at it, change jacob to match his house. if you’re still gonna make him have the same house as the MC, make him match it. from how all the characters describe him that bitch is as slytherin as they come, if you’re gonna make him a hufflepuff with me then give him a clear, hufflepuff motive god damnit

finally,

the characters

there’s too many.

the problem with a big cast is no one gets enough screen time and some characters end up getting shunted to the side. that’s just what happens. you HAVE to zero in on four or five side friends and let the rest of them slip to the side. looking at my friends menu there are 17 characters you can befriend, not including hagrid, the quidditch crew, dobby, talbott, and chiara (since those are, as far as i know, unlocked via side quests, which are... fine. i don’t have any particular gripes about the side quests except for the thing with lupin being twice the size of tonks which, if you’ve read the seventh book i don’t need to explain how weird that is to you)

and BECAUSE there are so many, a lot of them have to be defined by one trait. ben is a coward, rowan’s clever and booksmart, penny has her hand on the school’s pulse and makes potions, liz likes creatures, charlie fuckin loves dragons, tonks likes pranks (seriously that’s her whole personality), andre likes clothes, barnaby is a dumb jock that likes creatures

like, traits are fun. but if that’s ALL THEY HAVE, that’s when things get a little fucky

how many of these characters have dimensions? i’m in year 4 chapter 4. the first screen recording of the game i took was on december 5 of 2019, and assuming i played about a minimum of 8 hours a day (”““played”““) until the final screen recording [may 20, 2020] before i dropped the game for about six months (i know for certain it was more than that, since i had some kind of activity going on at just about all times for at least a month of that, but i’ll take the generous estimate), at bare minimum that makes 1344 hours i spent playing this game, or about 56 days (keep in mind, this is a LOW estimate)

in those 56 days of gameplay, i don’t know ANYTHING about the characters other than their utility in my quest. i don’t know penny’s favorite color or even her favorite potion to brew, or how and why she started and when [there’s a reveal in third year that i watched someone play through, but i don’t know if i ever played through it myself; i don’t have any screen recordings of the event]. i don’t know anything about ben or his family aside from the fact that he’s muggleborn. i know some basic facts about barnaby’s family, and that he’s tough and likes creatures. rowan grew up on a tree farm and i have a vague recollection of her mentioning siblings. do we know anything about them?? do i know anything about how the characters interact with each other?? are barnaby and liz friends? they both like creatures. do they talk to charlie?? do ben and penny hang out while we’re not there? are ben and jae friends?? are jae and charlie??? DO THESE CHARACTERS EXIST WHEN THEY AREN’T NEEDED FOR THE CURSED VAULTS???

why in the fuck don’t i know these characters?? why don’t we know anything about tonks other than her affinity for pranking?? there’s a sharp bias in who the writer’s favorites are (they like the characters with angsty pasts they can twist around; what do we know about ben aside from his blood status? and he’s been around since first year; he’s the second friend you unlock. i know more about barnaby and i’ve known him for a much shorter time)

if you separate the routes, you get a chance to zero in on certain characters and actually develop them. if you’re a gryffindor, you befriend ben, charlie, and jae much more quickly and they make up the closest of your friends, along with rowan, if jam city is determined to keep their tutorial character constant across all plotlines (i still think rowan should be solely a ravenclaw, but i’ll allow rowan’s house to change so long as their personality shifts to emphasize certain qualities in order to match the change in house; your house should not just determine the color your robes are)

if you’re in slytherin, maybe you befriend barnaby in place of ben in the original game, or maybe there’s an arc where you clash heads with merula (who can still be an enemy even if you’re both in slytherin; merula doesn’t like competition and the MC is exactly that) and the rest of the slytherins in your year find themselves caught in the middle; maybe there’s an arc where your MC finds themself totally alone without allies due to the conflict between them and merula (might i suggest year two, while coming up on the climax of the year?)

hufflepuffs get to focus on tonks and penny much closer. ben can also be in this plotline, but he shouldn’t take center stage (characters should cross over plotlines, but only take center stage in one, aside from perhaps rowan if rowan remains constant). maybe chiara can get implemented into the main plotline to fill out the roster, and if not, diego caplan can get implemented earlier (i haven’t met him yet and know nothing about his character)

and ravenclaws get the ravenclaw characters BUT YOU GET THE POINT, i don’t want to bore anyone by repeating myself; this is long enough as is

what i’m saying is, these characters all have a different enough base that each route will be different just by focusing on different characters; ben and jae will respond to a situation much differently than penny and tonks might, which would ALREADY shake up the storyline of each house based on which house you choose in the beginning, and then characters overlap plotlines so you could leave hints in each route to the other characters’ unique backstories and motivations that leaves the player wanting to get to know the rest of your WELL DEVELOPED CAST (((MAKE SURE THEY’RE WELL DEVELOPED OR THIS WILL NOT WORK)))

WHAT I’M SAYING IS, THIS GAME COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD

if they put more effort into the story then maybe i would have gunned through the hufflepuff route so quickly and then restarted to go through all the rest of them. if you want people playing your game for longer then THAT is the way to go

yes, it will take time. yes, it will take effort. but you know what?

IT’LL ALSO MAKE YOU A FUCKTON OF MONEY FROM PLAYERS PLAYING EACH ROUTE IN FULL AND THEN PLAYING THEIR FAVORITE ROUTES AGAIN SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR

anyway, what i’m saying is, i hate this game so much because of the potential it had to succeed, and the potential it had to be a really good game. even if they didn’t change the gameplay much, even if they didn’t change the models, i could get past ALL OF THAT if the story was interesting

so uh. jam city, if you’re reading this, please. i will let you take away all of my days of playing this. i will let you render all of my progress obsolete and send me plummeting back into my first year at hogwarts to go through the game again, if you JUST, MAKE, MULTIPLE, ROUTES!!! MAKE MY CHOICES MATTER DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!

i’m also willing to let you use the ideas i posited here without credit or payment. because that sounds like a legal hassle and i am far too lazy to deal with that sort of thing, i just want to play a good game. please. please give me a good game to play.

also, make energy take 3 minutes to recharge. please.

so uh

TL;DR : i hate this game. and i wish i didn’t hate this game.

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sciencelings-writes · 5 years

Text

Iron Man Bingo: Tony Stark & Harley Keener

this is part of my 5+1 series of Tony and his kids, this one has less Tony in it which was not what I was planning but I’m mostly trying to show how much he cares, even from afar.

Every Christmas, Harley got a ridiculously expensive gift that he knew his mother couldn’t afford. It was always labeled that it was from ‘Santa’ but Harley was anything but stupid. There was a billionaire out there that still felt bad after several years of putting him in danger once. Okay, maybe twice but Harley honestly didn’t dwell on it. He actually liked helping Tony out when he was twelve, his life was boring anyway.

Usually, it was a custom kit to build something that gradually got more and more complicated. They would be robots and other machines that kept Harley busy for a few weeks before he ended up modifying it to his own design for the rest of the year.

It was a single armed robot with gold lettering on it that cheekily spelled out ‘ANTHON-E’ or ‘TON-E’ for short. Tony wasn’t discrete. And he had a strange sense of humor.

Okay, Harley thought it was funny and the golden stickers could’ve spelled out anything he wanted. Harley was the one that thought it was funny to call the bot TON-E. But Tony did send a note with ideas for names that were just as bad. Mostly puns that ended in ‘-E.’ Most of them were not FUN-E. In fact, they were borderline SHIT-E.

But one year, the year after the shitshow that was Ultron and the breakup of the Avengers, Harley got something a little different. There was a huge box of parts and Harley audibly gasped when he took a look at the blueprints. It wasn’t a little project or a robot, it was a full-on Iron Man suit. Tony had included several colors of paint and literally everything Harley could ever hope to need to make the suit perfect, although the weapons were understandably less powerful.

They weren’t like nerf guns instead of actual guns, but they weren’t going to destroy his whole block if he fucked something up.

The only thing fully put together in the kit was the arc reactor. Sure, Harley had seen it up close, hell, he had put it back in Tony's chest that one time but it had been a few years and now that he had a better idea of what it was, he was fascinated by it. There was a note on it from Tony, it gave a personal phone number and an invitation to ask for anything else that he would need and a suggestion for a free visit to New York.

Harley was a little bit excited. When he wasn’t being watched by his little sister and mother, he literally jumped up and down with a ridiculous grin pasted on his face. It took him a full month to stop smiling and he started working on the suit immediately. He also started regularly texting Tony after years of not talking him.

Their conversations ranged from dumb shit that Harley was not ashamed of talking about to deep shit like the effect of the loss of the Avengers. It took a few months and several reminders that Harley knew how to deal with the man's panic attacks that he opened up again.

Harley may not be a therapist or anything like that, but he was the type of person that could listen to people. He listened to his mom when she broke down when he suggested she try dating again, he listened to Tony during his panic attacks and the adults always felt bad for unloading their trauma onto him but he didn’t care. Sometimes people needed someone to listen and think for them when they couldn’t think straight and Harley honestly didn’t mind being that person. He seemed to stay calm when other people would freak out.

Right before spring break, Harley finished his suit. He had fully tested it and wanted to see how it would fare for long distances, so he decided to surprise Tony by visiting. He wasn’t an asshole though, he told his mom that he was going to go visit, he just didn’t tell her that Tony didn’t even know.

Honestly, Harley only knew that Tony was going to be in the country because his AI connected to FRIDAY and she had told him Tony’s schedule for the whole month. He specifically took a few weeks off to chill out and Harley was planning on ruining it. Eh, Tony would forgive him.

He was kind of surprised that his mom let him go at all, but it turned out that she had talked to Pepper Potts and she had promised that she would make sure that Harley would be taken care of as she was sure that Tony couldn’t even take care of himself. Okay, he could but a lot of the time he forgets that human bodies had needs that had to be met every day. Like sleeping and eating.

Anyway, Harley left as soon as he could. And now he could say, flying was pretty fucking awesome. He topped out at about one thousand miles per hour, faster than a normal plane, but it would still take a while to get to New York. So he enjoyed the ride. For one, the view was beautiful, by being so high up, everything just looked so small.

Harley didn’t even think before he flew in loops and just played around with the whole concept of flight. The ducks in the air could probably hear him whooping from outside of his metal mask. But he didn’t think that they had the brain capacity to care.

He was in the middle of a swan dive when his visor turned red and text flashed in front of his eyes. Thankfully, it wasn’t a problem with the suit or anything like that. It was an alert for something happening nearby.

By then he had been flying for a while and was already above West Virginia. The alert just said that the AI had sighted a mugging using a nearby security camera. The guy had a gun and his AI had deemed it safe enough to be his first act of heroism. He didn’t have much else to do and if he actually wanted to be some sort of superhero, he would have to actually do some hero-ing.

He continued his dive until he was about as high as the nearby building. He slowed his descent and heavily dropped on the ground. He almost lost his balance but he didn’t fall so it was fine.

“Iron Man?” The criminal guy froze in his tracks and dropped the old woman's purse.

“Not quite.” Harley shot a low powered repulser blast at the man and surprisingly hit him. His arm but he fell to the ground. “I’m more like petty-crime Iron Man.”

The criminal was passed out on the ground so Harley paid attention to the woman.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Thank you so much, young man, before you shoot off into the sky, would you mind taking a picture with me? My granddaughter loves Iron Man!” Well, she got over that quickly…

“I guess…” He helped her after she struggled to take a selfie with him and after a few minutes, the lady had a picture of the new black and gold Iron Man. She seemed pretty pleased with the picture. He told her to call the police to report what happened before he shot off into the sky to make his way to New York.

This wasn’t the only stop he ended up having, he ended up stopping a robbery in New Jersy and distracted a potential rapist so that a girl could get an uber home. He wasn’t aware of how many pictures were taken of him and by the time he got to new york, there were several news sites that wrote about him. Most had headlines like ‘Iron Boy?’ or ‘Is there a new Iron Man?’ and dumb shit like that but one had ‘Tony Stark has a child who fights crime?’ So it could’ve been worse.

He landed at the Avengers compound in the middle of the night. He was exhausted but excited at the same time. Conflicting emotions were annoying. He popped out of his iron suit and stretched a bit before strolling into the compound with slightly hunched shoulders. Pepper met him inside, apparently, she had stayed awake waiting for him.

“Tony is just in his workshop and he’s going to stay down there all night if you don’t get him out of there. I’m going to bed and if you just join him, I’m going to sic FRIDAY on you guys.” Pepper threatened with a yawn. Harley was physically exhausted enough not to even think about denying her.

Pepper showed him to the workshop and excused herself to go to bed. FRIDAY let him in and Tony didn’t even notice. Tony seemed to be intensely examining a glowing holographic screen in front of him. Harley sat by him for a full five minutes before Tony even realized that he was there.

“Kid?” Tony looked like he hadn’t slept in a week so Harley was surprised that the guy even recognized that he was a kid.

“Hello to you too, it’s been a while.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Chill out, it’s spring break, I just decided to stop by.” Harley smiled and stood up. “Come on, you look like shit. Your girlfriend wants you to get some sleep.”

“You know I haven’t had enough sleep when I consider that you’re a hallucination.”

“Why the fuck would you hallucinate me? Maybe in the morning, we can reunite properly but personally, I’m about to pass out so…”

“Yeah yeah, no need to make me feel guilty… goddammit, you have gotten better at that…” Tony stretched and stood up in a way that strangely reminded Harley of a cat. “I saw you didn’t waste too much time to go play vigilante.”

“The fly here was pretty boring.” Harley shrugged. “Hey FRIDAY, tell Pepper we’re on our way up.”

‘Of course.’ The AIs voice came from the hidden speakers. ‘Boss says that you haven’t gotten the high score for getting Tony out of the lab.’

‘What’s the high score?’

‘Fifiteen seconds due to an accidental alert from Spider-Man. He didn’t mean to press the panic button.’ FRIDAY replied and if she had a face, Harley was sure that she was smiling. Or rather, smirking.

“Well, I’m going to beat that record.”

“Good luck with that kid…” Tony groaned. “Please at least promise not to give me a heart attack.”

“You have a med bay here right?” Harley smirked.

“Jesus Christ…”

Pepper could hear the laughing all the way from the Iron Suite.

#iron man bingo 2019 #harley keener #tony stark #iron man #iron lad #kinda #Tony stark has a heart #irondad #iron dad #Harley POV #marvel #mcu #iron man 3 #tony stark defense squad #Tony stark is a good dad you asshole

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missblissy · 5 years

Note

45 with Arthur plz? Make it angsty but with a happy ending bc my heart can’t handle all this heartbreak

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🎆 for a random number instead.

45. — betrayal

((Omg anon how can I not make this super angsty?? Thnk u fren. I will do my best to provide a happy ending. This turned out to be really long OMG!!))

You didn’t think it was anything at first. It was only a letter. He wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d throw it out, right?

No… He didn’t. You read the letter at the side table beside your shared bed. You sneered at each word that dumb woman had the nerve to put from pen to paper.

Mary Linton was a fool. A woman that knew her nature and used it to her advantage. How dare she beg Arthur for help? What on earth could he do for her that he hasn’t already done? She made it clear nearly 10 years ago that he wasn’t good enough. How unfair, and rude of her to show up like this.

Arthur was sound asleep behind you as he laid on the small bed. His bare back was towards you as you sat on the edge of the bed reading the letter over and over again. He had only gotten the letter yesterday and he didn’t tell you about it. You found it there last night before bed.

You wanted to ask him about it. You wanted to ask if he’d actually go help her. The way she wrote that letter though, it was like she was trying to tap into the dead and gone love she used to have for the cowboy behind you.

Weight shifted around behind you and then an arm snuck around your waste and a hand fished itself between your thighs. Arthur yawned and brushed his face on your back.

“Up early?” He asked, clearly seeing the low morning sunrise pooling into the tent. Arthur let out another yawn and you finally put the letter down.

“Just thinking,” You said. He noticed the letter and Arthur’s intimate grip on your changed to something looser and less clingy.

“I’m not going to go,” Arthur’s voice was low and still groggy. He was talking about Mary.

Looking back at him you raised a brow, “Really?” You were half tempted to laugh, “You think so?”

He didn’t really like your sarcasm. Arthur sat up behind you still, “I would hope so,” His tone was soft and carried an unknown hint of something else in it.

“Well… I’m saying it now. Please don’t go running around for her again,” You loved Arthur very much, but you knew how weak he was to Mary. He chose her over you once before… he might do it again. It scared you that she was trying to squeeze her way back into Arthur’s life.

“I’m not running around,” Arthur’s brows knitted together and he gave you a sour glance, “I’m doing work, getting money for the gang. I’m helping people who will pay.” That sounded a lot like an excuse and way to deter the conversation away from Mary.

You shook your head and brought it back, “No, you use to run around for her like it was your life’s work. She’d go, Oh Arthur! I need to get away from daddy will you please take me to town even though I can just walk.”

“Will you stop that?” Arthur grumbled and got up off the bed. His mood had gone from good to bad pretty quick, “I said I’m not going, so just trust me on that,” He started getting dressed and you just watched in silence. You had to take his word for it, you trusted him before when it came to more life-threatening things. Trusting him over something like a ghost from his past should be easy.

He had gotten himself dressed, for the most part, all he had left to do was button his shirt. You got up and helped him. You brushed his hands away, give him a little swat and he’d swat back causing the both of you to giggle. While you took care of the buttons, Arthur pressed a kiss onto your forehead then brushed your hair back and out of your face, “Look at me,” He said quietly.

You finished the last button and gazed up at your rough and tough outlaw. His warm and dry hands held onto your cheeks and he got inches away from your face, “I love you,” He said, staring right into your soul, “Don’t you forget that,” He kissed you one more time, a long kiss that took up your breath. He pulled away with a smile and then left you alone to get ready for the day._________________________________________________

Valentine always disgusted you in a way you just couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was all the sheep and cattle that cause such an awful smell. Or maybe it was the lowlives that called this place home. Regardless, Dutch had sent you to the train station to find some tips about stagecoaches coming through this way. As you neared town you could hear in the distance the whistle of a train.

You crossed the train tracks quickly before the oncoming train blocked the road. When you got closer to the station, you thought you recognized that horse hitched out front. Was that… Arthur’s horse? It had to be, no one else on this planet had a grey spotted war horse bigger and meaner than Arthur’s. What on earth was he doing here? No how… it didn’t matter. Maybe he wanted to get the stagecoach tip before you?

You hitched your horse out front and found yourself walking quickly to get inside. You wished you didn’t do that, in fact, you wished you took your sweet time walking slowly up those steps. You opened that door and looked right, then left. Then saw something you thought you’d never see again.

Honestly, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. But that’s not to say it didn’t hurt like hell. You saw before your eyes what you were told you’d never see. Froze on the spot, you saw Arthur taking the suitcase out of Mary’s hand as she followed her brother out to the train. You locked eyes with each one of them because they stopped chatting when you walked in.

Arthur had frozen the most. He tried his best to not move and remain falsely invisible to the eye. He watched your trust burn and die in your eyes. He told you, and he told himself he wouldn’t help Mary, but here he was. A lair. He just couldn’t say no to this woman, could he? He thought maybe he could just help her, get away with it and send her packing on the 4-hour train ride back east and put that thousand miles between them again. It was so tempting to see her, knowing she was staying in a place just outside Valentine. He honestly just wanted her to go away, but he did promise to always be kind to her and to help her if need be.

That wasn’t something you could understand. Honestly, you didn’t hate Mary, but you resented her for what she had done long ago.

Only several seconds passed where all of you were stuck there in silence staring at each other. You broke way first, completely monotone and put on autopilot. You went over to the teller behind the station bars and quietly spoke to them. You could hear Arthur mutter a goodbye to Mary as she went outside to her train.

The tink tink tink of Arthur’s spurs chimed closer and closer until you knew he was standing right behind you. He said your name, but you ignore him. You smiled kindly to the teller and took the paper he slipped to you. You ignored Arthur again and headed for the front doors.

“(Y/N)!” Arthur followed after you, “(Y/N), listen to me,” You refused.

You had walked out the doors, picking up speed, trying to race to your horse to speed off back to camp. Arthur grabbed you by your arm just as you reached the steps of the station.

The whistle of the train scream the bell rang out as the train took off. You whipped around and looked Arthur in the eye then yanked your arm from his grip, “Leave me alone,” Your voice was cold, broken and filled with a hate that Arthur had never heard before, “You,” The venom dripped from each little word, “Arthur Morgan, are a no good lying bastard who would betray anyone for the sweet chance of having your ego rubbed by anybody,”

There was a look in his eyes that told you that those words hurt him. But they didn’t hurt nearly as much as his betrayal. You sneered, crunching up your nose and spit at his boots, “Get lost,” You said lowly.

He didn’t try to stop you this time when you left. You got on your horse and didn’t even give him a second glance. God… Arthur was an idiot! He watched you race away and stood there on the station steps wondering if he had finally fucked up enough to lose you. You may have not known it, or maybe he was just bad at sharing his feelings, but he did love you. He loved you far more than he’d ever love Mary.

You were a comfort to him that she could never be. He could speak to you about anything, while he knew secrets must be kept if he were to ever return to Mary’s side. And, truthfully, he’d choose you every time over her. Maybe he should have done a better job of showing that or saying it. He cursed under his breath and damned his stoic idiocy. He should have never gone through all that trouble. All he did was give Mary another chance to dehumanize him and tell him how much “He’d never change” and how much she knew that. But she was the real idiot there.

Because Arthur did change or has been changing. Mary had no idea that you and Arthur were even together and ever since you had opened up your heart to him, he had slowly started becoming a man of better manners and morals. His honor was higher than it’s ever been before and she had the nerve to say he couldn’t change.

He knew better than to chase after you. If he did that, he’d surely die with a bullet between his eyes. And you were thankful he didn’t. You didn’t go back to camp. You found yourself racing deep into the open plains of the Heartlands. You didn’t think you’d cry, but the second your boots hit the dirt and you slid off your horse, your knees buckled and you fell.

God, it hurt so much. A liar, he was a liar! God you stupid fool! You should have known better than that, that he’d run to her aid. Fuck! You covered your face with your hands as you quietly cried in the dirt. Your horse sensed your discomfort and nudged you a few times. She was such a good mare, kind and easy mannered. You sniffled and smiled, petting your horse and trying your best to cry less.

What on earth could Arthur have done with Mary? He’d been gone all day, doing whatever whim Mary asked of him. What did they say? What did Arthur say? Why was he carrying bags for her? Why was she even here!? How did she know you guys were out here?! Well… anybody who could read could see that the Van der Linde gang was last spotted in Blackwater.

You got to your feet, thinking that it’d be best to camp out tonight. Screw the lead, Dutch could find another. This wasn’t even a good one, you were sure it was a dud. _________________________________________________

It had been two days, going on three now, since anyone saw you in camp. The first night, when Arthur came back by himself -and slightly intoxicated- no one questioned where you were. On the second day, Dutch had to pester a hungover moody cowboy about where you were. When Arthur said he didn’t know, everyone asked what happened. But, Arthur being Arthur, kept the details tight-lipped.

“She got mad at me,” He told Dutch and Hosea that third night at dinner, “Didn’t want to see me, I guess,”

“I wouldn’t want to see you either,” Dutch was looking down at some papers he had gathered on their next heist, “You look like shit,”

“Smell like it too,” Hosea added. There was a reason for that, “Maybe she got sick of sleeping by a man who can’t bathe,”

“I can bathe,” Arthur retorted with glare, “I do bathe!” He just… didn’t today! That was all! He just… got a little too drunk the other night and fell around in the dirt. He couldn’t bother himself to leave camp, what if you came back and he wasn’t here? What if he missed you before you ran away again?

“What’d you gone and done?” Hosea finally asked, “Last time she wasn’t seen for days, you two got into that fight about that boy that was sweet talking her,” Arthur remember that day far more clearly than he liked.

That poor boy, he was just being nice. He was a sweet stable boy, no older than 19 perhaps, and he was just being nice to you. Offering you treats for your horse, a nice new brush and tips on wild plants to pick. But Arthur did not like the smile you two shared, he didn’t like how close that kid was to you. Arthur being the idiot he was, embarrassed you publicly by acting like a jealous and possessive husband rather than the aloof causal lover he really was. He made a fool of you and you ran into the woods for a whole week.

It wasn’t like you to go missing, you normally stayed close. But when you needed space and time to yourself, it wasn’t seen as odd for you to be gone for a couple days.

Arthur was brought back to the present, remembering the question Hosea has asked. He felt hot shame and guilt flood his face, possibly making him blush. He was thankful that the only source of light in the camp was lanterns and low fires. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “She saw me helping out Mary,” he finally said.

“Mary?” Dutch looked up from his work. He looked amazed and confused at the same time, “How in the hell did she find us out here? I thought she dumped you for dirt back east?”

There was a grimace on his face, but Arthur just said, “Yeah,” and rolled his shoulders, “She needed some help with her brother and that.. turtle cult. I went and got him for her,” That was honestly it. He wished he hadn’t helped her though, it wasn’t worth the trouble at this point.

“And I’m guessing, knowing (Y/N),” Hosea paused and shared a glance with Dutch. He hated that, the way these old bastards could talk with looks. He couldn’t even do that with you so how in the hell did they manage it?

Dutch looked at Arthur and finished Hosea’s sentence, “(Y/N) told you not to help her, didn’t she?” God dammit. He really hated them sometimes. But yes, they were right.

Arthur remained silent, preferring not to talk about it. He looked down at his plate of stew and found himself not hungry anymore either. He threw his plate away and grumbled slurs under his breath as he had to go back to an empty tent and an empty bed. He’d sleep another night, missing you by his side and regretting the choices he made. Most of all, he always fell asleep thinking and knowing he hurt you. He hoped you’d be back soon.____________________________________________

You had to tiptoe your way back into camp. It was still too early in the morning for anyone to be awake. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon, but it’s rays quietly leaked into the clouds above.

The last few days had been awful. You didn’t like being lied too, you didn’t like the way it felt to know that Arthur went behind your back, even though he said he wouldn’t. Most of all…… you felt like an idiot for trusting him and believing his word for it. You were honestly only here to steal some of your savings from the chest in your tent. You had run out of money and you weren’t ready to speak to Arthur yet, or at all really.

Making sure to stay extra quiet, you pushed the loose flap open to peak in your tent. There Arthur was, sleeping soundly. He looked lonely in your bed without you and a part of your heart tugged you closer to him. You looked at his face, how soft his features become when he slept, the way his brows would knit together every few seconds. He was handsome, wasn’t he?

This was a mistake because he opened his eyes once you got to close. You don’t know what you did but you woke Arthur up. Instantly you yipped out and darted away, rushing toward the locked chest at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not here!” You whisper-yelled, “You’re dreaming! This is a dream!” Your fingers twitched and fumbled to unlock the chest.

Arthur sat up, leaning on his arm to hold himself up, “I must be,” He stared at you with half open and tired eyes, “I’m surprised to even see you here,” He looked between you and the chest. He knew you were here for money, it was the only reason why you’d be digging around in that thing, “Gonna leave again?”

His words struck you in an odd way. He didn’t seem mad that you were gone (like he did most of the time) and he didn’t try to fight you or beg you to stay. He just… accepted that whatever you wanted to do, he’d sit by and watch you do it. This wasn’t like him.

With several bills clumped together in your hands, you stared at him from your spot, “You lied to me,” Is all you said.

“I know…” Again he surprised you.

“Why?” That was the question that had been bothering you these last several days. You thought it’d be the hardest question to ask, but you asked it again in a whisper, “Why?”

Nothing was said for a bit, but then Arthur sat all the way up and did that nervous tick of his. He rubbed his chin and lower his face, gazing down at the ground, “ I don’t know… I want to see what would happen… Why she was here. She just wanted me to save her brother…”

That was just like Mary. To beg Arthur to save her, her brother, to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Doing this and that, making this and that, buying this and that. She was a spoiled girl who had to depend on a man to do everything for her. She really annoyed you so.

“You… betrayed me,” You finally said slowly.

His voice was low and you could feel the regret in his words, “I know,”

Your voice cracked a little and you stood up, closed the chest and walked closer towards the tent’s closed doorway, “You hurt me, more than you’ve ever hurt me before,”

Again, he said, “I know,” Arthur looked up at you, a silent plea in his eyes, “I’m sorry, (Y/N). But don’t go running out in the woods,” He shook his head slowly with each word, “I know you’re mad at me and I hurt you, I’ll leave you alone. Just… don’t go hiding again. Don’t make all these people worry about you. I really am sorry, I should have never of went to see Mary. All she did was remind me of how much better she is without me,”

You felt a little bad, perhaps Mary was her own anti-Arthur spray. He looked pained and sorry, you took pity on him despite not wanting too. You had such a soft spot in your heart for this man, “Okay,” is all you said. You wouldn’t leave again, but you weren’t that sure if you could still stay around Arthur.

As you went to leave, Arthur stopped you one more time, saying, “(Y/N)?” you looked back at him, “I love you, don’t you forget that,”

That caused the smallest smile to tug at the corners of your lips. It made you feel a little better, and you were sure it’d help you feel better sooner than later. You looked at the ground, becoming bashful, “I love you too,”

#asks #ask meme #prompts #anon #arthur morgan #arthur #arthur morgan x reader #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr 2 #red dead 2 #drabbles #one-shot #writes #;kdjfa;sjdf;akldsjf;ladsf #van der linde gang #dutch van der linde #hosea mathews #Anonymous

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unlicensedlobotomist · 5 years

Text

Caged Larks Do Not Sing

Chapter 3- Plane Sick

(ao3 link)

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

WARNING: Depictions of violence, major character death

Being thrown in jail was not something the Luminary of the Stars ever expected would happen to him, but there he was. Momota had tried to explain to the head paramedic he hadn’t meant to hurt Ouma that bad: he had only hit his head on the floor, and he wasn’t dead. The blood was just from his prank, nothing else. She told him to sit down though, and to let her and her co-worker do their work to help Ouma. She spoke, an air of command to her voice, but Momota could see the fear in her eyes; she was bluffing He continued to try to convince her but soon obliged to sit down in a nearby chair.

No sooner than he had, the police arrived. The paramedics spoke to them in hushed voices, trying to prevent Momota from hearing. He stood, attempting to butt in, but was quickly intersected and bombarded with questions by a second officer.

“Where were you tonight?”

“I was out with a friend?”

“Who?”

“Yukimori Soichiro, he’s my old--”

“How long were you both out?”

“About 2 hours. Is Ko--”

“Do you know the victim?”

“Will you let me finish a sentence?! Fuck, yeah I know Kokichi, is he okay?!”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“WHO THE FUCK CARES!! IS KOKICHI OKAY?!”

Two other officers had come over to calm him down and to restrain him from throwing a drunken punch. He was certain he would end up with an attempted assault on an officer, but at the moment, he couldn’t care. They had brought Momota to the police station promptly after, where he was then fingerprinted, questioned, and detained. It was nearing 2 in the morning when they finally put him in a cell. He had opted to make his phone call in the morning, knowing his lawyer would probably not answer till his office hours, anyway.

He still couldn’t get over the fact Ouma was possibly dead, leaning more towards definitely at this rate. How? Who the hell would murder the gremlin? Yeah, he was annoying, Momota knew this from experience, but annoying enough to murder? No. Yes, his pranks sometimes got out of hand, and he didn’t know how to apologize for them properly (once Momota had received a ten thousand yen gift card to a coffee shop only in Tokyo when Ouma had destroyed his garden to the point he had to replant almost everything) but they were never so bad it caused irreparable harm.

Sleeping was difficult, thoughts pounding as he mulled over why someone would murder Ouma. His sleep was only disrupted when the sun hit him directly in the eyes. With a groan, Momota stood up from the metal bench (which was far from comfortable) in the cell and tried to get someone’s attention. It hadn’t taken too long, as the guard was passing by his cell to get back to his desk. The guard was a young man, more than likely in his early twenties, who smiled at Momota, and talked to him. He was excited to see the astronaut in person, even though, all things considered it was a downer. Momota briefly forgot why he had been trying to flag him down, discussing for a moment about space and his work. He only realized that his train of thought had trailed away when his hand slipped down the metal bar.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I gotta make my phone call. Can you take me to the phone?”

The officer blinked, realizing himself where he was and nodding. “Of course, I’m sorry. Who do you need to call?”

Momota gave it some thought. His lawyer was definite, but he wondered if he should call his Grandfather. He decided against it though. His grandfather had gone senile after his grandmother passed, and he may just end up confusing him with this entire thing. Momota decided visiting in person would be best if this got worst and he needed to explain to him where he was. He wasn’t sure who else he may have needed to call at the moment, but then it hit him.

“Is there any way I could have two calls?”

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“Akamatsu, how is Berlin-”

“Huh? It’s Kaito. Shuichi, Listen, I… I need your help.”

“Oh.” Saihara hadn’t meant to speak in such a disappointed manner, but it was how it came out. The informality that he had once been so excited to hear had somehow stung now. He hadn’t heard anyone call him by his first name in years, aside from his aunt and uncle, and it had felt… wrong. “I’m sorry, Momota-kun,” He attempted to exaggerate saying Momota’s surname, hoping maybe he would take the hint. Knowing Momota, though, 5 years of radio silence between them didn’t mean he wouldn’t just jump right back into how things were. “I was expecting another call. What can I help you with?”

“It’s really bad, Shuichi.” Momota’s voice sounded gruff like he hadn’t had a glass of water in a long time. To say this began to draw Shuichi’s concern was an understatement. Yes, they hadn’t spoken over the phone in years, but he still knew Momota’s voice, and he knew even if Kaito was in trouble he’d still be brash about it.

“Kokichi’s dead.”

Saihara blinked, the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite recall where he had heard it. He wondered for a moment why Momota would call him about this he could have left him a message on Facebook or something, like he usually did. “Who’s Kokichi?”

“... Ouma? You don’t remember Ouma? He harassed us all throughout high school. How could you possibly forget?” The tone of Momota’s voice made Saihara almost feel bad for not remembering the given name of a classmate he was never fond of. He shook his head, sighing softly.

“Oh, uh, sorry. No, I remember Ouma, I never called him by his first name. He’s dead? How did he die?” A part of Saihara felt this was just one of Ouma’s pranks that maybe Momota had fallen for. He was rather susceptible to falling for such things in high school, and a part of himself found it hard to believe Ouma would be dead.

“... He was murdered.” There was a mixture of frustration and sadness coating Momota’s words, Saihara could visualize him punching the closest wall in frustration as he spoke. The questions in his eyes as he wondered why this happened. He shook his head again though, letting the moment fade from his mind’s eye as Momota spoke again. “They think I killed him.”

“Wait what?” Saihara felt almost lost for words, not sure how else to respond to that statement. “What do you mean they think you murdered him? Why? Where was the body found? Where were you--”

“I’m in jail! I can’t answer a ton of questions! I could only convince them to let me have two phone calls, and I get 5 minutes for each!!” Anger came out in his words as he cut him off, but Momota quickly calmed his voice when he realized his anger was misplaced. It hadn’t been Saihara’s fault he was there. “Listen, I’m having my lawyer send you money for the next flight here. We’ll talk more once you get here, but I want you to come here as fast as possible.”

“I…” Saihara paused. He wanted to help Momota, and it wasn’t as though anything was holding him back from doing so. A sadness hit him though at the realization that this hadn’t been a call between friends. This was a service call. Momota saw him as the Ultimate Detective, and not as Saihara Shuichi anymore. A part of him wanted to tell him he couldn’t go, the part that felt the painful cut ties of the once strong friendship. He took a deep breath, though, and sighed out of obligation. “I mean, of course. I can be there as soon as possible, Momota-san.”

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A plane from the Narita International Airport in Chiba to New Chitose Airport in Hokkaido was not a long one, 2 hours at the most, but Saihara felt like the nearly 10-hour train ride would have been better on his stomach. Sure, Momota had sent him the little over twelve thousand yen to get the next flight available, but Saihara had wished nearly five minutes in that he had paid the extra fifteen thousand to just take the trains. He could have lied and told Momota that the plane had been the next day.

However, this was a rather important matter, and his comfort in transportation could be dealt with on the ride home. Saihara looked over a rough transcript he wrote after he had finished the call with Momota. The conversation was still vivid enough in his head, but it was always good to keep such things for record. It was still… Crazy. Ouma was dead. He would have never called Ouma a friend by any means, and he supposed under normal circumstances his death would have been a blip on his radar and vanish just as fast. The fact someone murdered him was… Well, he hated to admit, unsurprising. Ouma knew how to push people’s buttons and had the tendency of going too far. The fact someone would want to murder him over it seemed extreme, but not inconceivable. Saihara had seen people kill for far less.

Why was Momota being framed for the murder, though? In high school, the two had butted heads more times than Saihara could count. Nothing worth murdering over, though. Not to mention that had been over ten years ago. If he had more time to speak to him, maybe he could’ve gotten more details about what was happening. Even his lawyer had been very hushed on what had occurred, probably fearful Saihara would take the money and just tell the media about the mess. He still needed to talk to Momota, and the authorities, of course, but he still would have liked more details going into this.

Saihara wished he had asked Momota if he had booked him a hotel to stay at during the investigation. After he gathered all the information he could, he wanted to go somewhere he could put it all together quietly. A place to just lay down to think. He knew he could write it down in the bill he would inevitably have to give Momota for his services, but a part of him felt wrong for even thinking about giving Momota that.

Should he really feel wrong about giving a man who hadn’t spoken to him in 5 years a bill? Probably not. It’s not as though he hadn’t “spoken” to him at all. He’d get the occasional text and Facebook message, but none of the conversations were what they used to be. They had become short and had long silences in between. At first, Saihara had chalked it up to Momota going to a different college, which then became training, work, and eventually going to space. Soon, though, it felt like he was making excuses for the astronaut’s absence. He had become only a step on the long ladder that was Momota’s life.

He had felt incredibly hurt when it hit him that the person he had trusted so much in high school may have let go of him. He kept dwelling on the thought for longer than he’d liked to admit, letting it settle to the pit of his stomach. After months of feeling like he had lost a part of himself, he could push himself to move on. He had talked about it to Akamatsu and his therapist, and he felt like his skin had toughened and things like silence from people that once meant so much no longer cut so deep.

He hoped that was true enough after he left this case.

Saihara arrived before getting too sick on the plane and thankfully was informed upon his arrival that a car had been brought to take him to his intended destination two-and-a-half hours away. He was grateful that, presumably; the lawyer had thought ahead and had not expected him to find a rental car in such a short notice. The car was rather spacious and even had a privacy window between him and the driver. Still, Saihara felt that was not enough privacy to speak on his phone to the police.Hopefully the lawyer would let him look at the case file. He rested his head against the cool glass of the window, moving the lip of his hat to get a more comfortable position. A quick look at his watch revealed it to be almost two in the afternoon.

It was not the most ideal time for a nap, but it certainly would make the trip go faster.

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

The police station was unusually quiet - no news vans or reporters floating about. It wasn’t like every day they arrested a famous astronaut, but Saihara supposed that it could have been possible it hadn’t been leaked yet—though that was an unlikely possibility. Saihara took a quick look around the lobby, noting that there were a few people lingering about. Two people were quietly sitting close to the door, one looking through the doorway, the other holding his head down. Both men looked tired, the one with his head down clutching something so tightly in his hands, Saihara swore they were turning purple. The other was softly rubbing his back, his concerned gaze falling on Saihara for a moment before returning to his friend. Across from them was a man sleeping handcuffed to the bench, and near the reception was an older man dressed in a nice suit. Saihara made his way to him, knowing the look of a lawyer when he saw one. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but was cut off.

“Saihara Shuichi, I presume.” The lawyer looked at him, and Saihara suddenly felt as though someone had caught him cutting class in his presence. He bowed politely to the man.

“How did you know?” Saihara spoke finally after rising again.

“My client described what you looked like,” The lawyer shook his head, looking over Saihara. “I also looked you up before sending you any money, you’re a detective, correct?”

“I am.” Saihara inwardly sighed. He felt eyes on his back, looking down at the floor because of the feeling of too many people staring at him. “Ah, where is--”

“My client,” The lawyer said in a firm voice as he cut Saihara off. “Would not allow me to post bail until you arrived. I will do so now. He asked if you would go to see him when you got here.” He pointed towards the double doors leading to the holding cells. Saihara looked towards them and hesitated.

He stood there for a moment looking at the doors, unsure of how to proceed. What would he say to Momota? Hello? A simple greeting felt too small, but he wasn’t sure what to say otherwise. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. Swallowing, he made his way towards them.

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

Momota paced back and forth in his cell, stopping periodically to look to the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes after four now; he had been in here for over twelve hours. He could have left. His lawyer was waiting in the lobby to post bail, but Momota had asked him to wait for Saihara. The man had looked at Momota like he had gone mad, but what else was he supposed to do? Saihara knew to come to the police station, and even if Momota left now, going back home by himself didn’t seem like a good option. Who knows what the police still left there. Momota doubted they left the body, but what if they did? He didn’t want to walk in and see Ouma’s corpse cold on the floor. They may not even let him go back, it was an active crime scene.

Momota sighed, stopping mid pace through the cell. Looking back at the clock. 4:17 PM. He groaned. Why was it taking so long for Saihara to get here? Maybe he could have called his lawyer over and asked him to post bail early, but sitting in the police's lobby seemed less enjoyable. Too many people would have eyes on him there, and they wouldn’t be kind looks. At least here in the cell, he was isolated from others. The isolation was killing him, though.

Pacing again. The repetitive motion was soothing somehow: going around in a circle after circle after circle, eyes focused strictly on an off color grey brick on an otherwise perfectly uniform wall, only losing the sight for a breath before it was back in view. He had become so fixated on it, a part of him felt panicked when he could no longer see the brick. A breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding would release when it returned to his view. The process repeated over and over and had honestly given Momota a headache.

“You pace a LOT when you’re not sure what to do, did you know that?”

Yeah, I know that.

“You should TOTALLY keep doing it, it’s not at ALL annoying to watch.”

Stop watching then.

“Oh, now why would I do that when it’s so entertaining to watch you go in tiny circles for hours? Honestly, I should have brought popcorn and--”

Kokichi, I swear to fucking--

Momota stopped and slumped down on the closest bench in the cell. He held his head for a moment.

At least I don’t bite my thumb off when I’m uncertain, like someone.

“I still have three quarters of my right thumb, I didn’t bite it all off!”

That’s doesn’t make it better...

“What are you thinking about anyway, Kai-chan?”

What was Momota thinking about? A conversation that took place years ago? Why? He rubbed his eyes, sighing to himself.

“... Momota-san?”

Momota looked up, letting the troubled look fall away and a grin clear away the tired of his face.

“Shuichi!”

The sudden change in Momota’s sullen appearance had nearly startled Saihara. It was almost like he was watching a sad puppy who just heard a squeaky toy go off. He gave a nod at his name, watching as the guard on duty opened the cell up to let Momota out. With a sudden burst of energy, Momota pounced. He made his way quickly over to Saihara, getting the smaller man trapped into a tight bear hug.

“I’ve missed you, sidekick! How have you been? How’s life been? Have you been keeping in contact with HaruMaki? She lives in Tokyo too, last I heard--”

“Momota-san—I can’t breathe--” Saihara wheezed out the words, causing Momota to pause briefly to release him. A short, chuckled “sorry” left his lips before he went to continue his tirade of questions. Saihara quickly stopped him before he could let another word leave his lips.

“We need to talk about Ouma’s murder, Momota-san.”

“Can’t we do that later? I haven’t seen you in, what? Three years--?”

“Seven years, Momota-san.”

“SEVEN YEARS???” Momota’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean?? Our high school has that picnic, you and I--”

“I haven’t attended that picnic in five years, Momota-san. We could not have been there together three years ago.”

Momota’s demeanor deflated for a moment, lost in thought. “Seven years… Fuck, I can’t believe I lost track of time that bad.” A smiled returned, just as vibrant as any galaxy. “Well, that just means I have to make triple sure we make up for lost time then, right?” His hand clapped against Saihara’s shoulder, making the shorter man flinch and back away from the touch. A trace of confusion came and went quickly on Momota’s face. He gave a friendly shrug and a laugh, heading for the way out. “Well, come on now! Have you been to Hokkaido before, Shuichi?”

“Momota-san, we should talk about Ouma--”

“Man, come on, that’s so dark. We can talk about all that later, can’t we? I’ve been locked in a jail cell since last night, let’s go get lunch and catch up.”

Saihara was flabbergasted to say the least. He watched, frozen in place as Momota made his way to the door leading to the lobby. The carefree attitude was… astonishing. How could someone accused of murder have such an attitude? Was he so certain he’d be found without guilt just because Saihara was there? He was a decent enough detective, but even then he wasn’t sure he could succeed. He opened his mouth as if to protest, though he wasn’t sure what to say as it hung open in a state of disbelief.

Momota looked back as he opened the door, blinking at the sight of the confused Saihara. “What’s the matter?” He chuckled, holding the door open. “Come on, I’m sure you’re hungry! I feel like I have eaten nothing in forever! Have you eaten since the plane?”

“... No, I suppose I haven’t.” Saihara finally let his shoulders fall with a defeated sigh. He knew Momota would still be Momota no matter what, and that he should not have been surprised a murder would be sidelined by his stomach. He made his way towards him, Momota opening the doors wide and entering the main lobby.

The motion had been quick and unexpected. Saihara barely had time to register it all as a body came full force and slammed a fist right into Momota’s face before just colliding fully and slamming him to the ground. Saihara quickly stepped out of the way as the man who had been with him quickly went to grab his friend.

“WHAT THE FUCK--?!” Momota exclaimed, grabbing his cheek. The anger in his face vanished though, and Saihara stood confused. Momota had the tendency to change emotions quick, but this was too quick even for him to drop anger.

“H-H-Ho—You—YOU FUCKER.” The man stared down at him, his words barely escaping him. Messy black hair almost obstructed the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His friend, a rather tall, thin framed man with soft sandy hair covering his face, rubbed his shoulders, softly speaking to him.

“You said you just wanted to talk--”

“HE TRUSTED YOU!! HOW COULD YOU?!”

“We should go.” The friend felt the eyes of officers approaching. Saihara quickly looked down at Momota and noticed his eyes were locked on something. Following his gaze, Saihara realized it had been on the fist that had punched him. The man had finally loosened the hold on the item he held so tightly when Saihara had walked in.

It was a checkered scarf.

#Saimota #kaito momota #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #violence #major character death

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