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insomniamamma · 5 years ago

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Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

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He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name? It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself. The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark. "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?" "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside. "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it. "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths. "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry. "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear. "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local. "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground." "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--" "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?" "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items. "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels. Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes. "You should have let me shoot him," "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing." "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--" "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze. "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee. It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself. "Hey, Cee?" "Mmmh?" "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question. "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

"Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face.

"If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee. "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you. "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day. "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle." "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat. "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee. "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh. "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect #cee #cee prospect #prospect movie

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thevampirearcher-md · 4 years ago

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something med school did not cover - adorable (#2) 🩺

short and sweet is the mood for this AU ✨

also on ao3

She’s the first one in. As a general rule, Rosé is always there when Denali walks out of the nurse’s locker room, studying the overnight updates on her patients’ charts, always the first one to start on her pre-rounds. She carries around her Oxford Handbook of Paediatrics stuffed in one pocket, alongside all of her funky pens, her pink stethoscope stuffed in her other pocket and her notepad in hand, filled with various case notes. “Good morning, doctor,” Denali greets, pinning her badge to her scrubs. Rosé almost drops the chart she’s holding as her head snaps up. Her face lights up with a smile. “Good morning, nurse Foxx,” she greets, her smile only extending out wider. Her eyes meet Denali’s and she stops whatever she’s doing - which from the looks of it is piling up charts into a makeshift tower which slides dangerously as the intern is distracted. “Careful,” Denali giggles from across the central desk. “Oh, shit,” Rosé mutters, stopping the papers with her hip, right as they’re about to spill over the edge of the counter and scatter across the linoleum. “Oh, shit,” she repeats, eyes widening, realising that she’s let a forbidden word slip out. Denali’s giggling intensifies, making her face flush bright red. “Need any help?” “Please,” Rosé’s tone reminds Denali of a child, pleading and endearing, and she approaches to help. The intern’s hands are full and her eyes are almost desperate. Denali can feel the fear of rearranging the medical files of various different patients in chronological order. She sneaks her arm around Rosé’s body, making her freeze. “Got ‘em,” she announces, trying not to get caught up in how close they are to each other. She can feel it when Rosé releases a breath she’d been holding and steps away. “Thank you,” she says on a sigh, righting herself. “Can I ask what’s with the leaning tower of cases?” Denali gathers them to her chest. “Those are all my patients,” the intern explains. “I was gathering their files to pre-round before Professor Visage gets here.” Denali counts them quickly - seven, including the one clutched in Rosé’s hand, more patients than Denali has ever seen assigned to an intern with only a month of experience under her belt. She’s been working here since she was a rookie, since before she had even graduated from nursing school, and she has gotten to know how Professor Visage operates: she’s seen her pick out someone from every generation and slowly start to lean on them, to give them more responsibility. But this is overload, especially this early on. “Need assistance?” she offers benevolently. Rosé’s eyes light up at that. “Would you?” Denali’s dimpled smile is answer enough. She wouldn’t normally do this. Every nurse is a rookie at first and every doctor is an intern in the beginning. Every intern pre-rounds their patients, gets pimped by their supervisors during actual rounds then spends the rest of their days on scut - filling out charts, printing out labs and acting like secretaries in scrubs. She’s been a rookie herself - filling out treatment plans and handing out supplies to her overseers - and none of the interns have helped her. Rosé knocks softly on door 612, then pushes it open. “Good morning, Mrs Gardner,” she greets softly. “It’s Dr McCorkell,” she looks to the one year old boy, propped against the low bed, frantically drawing on an Etch-A-Sketch. “And nurse Foxx,” Denali pipes up. “Hi, Arthur,” she winks, handing his file over to Rosé. “How are we doing today?” Rosé asks, crouching down next to the bed. Arthur looks to her and smiles. While his mommy answers Rosé’s questions, giving her all of the needed updates, Denali can’t help but notice the intern. She’s steadily leaning closer to the boy, grabbing one of his stuffed animals to lure him to her. He points to his Etch-A-Sketch, to his masterpiece of violent swirls, which Rosé studies thoughtfully. “You’re a very talented artist,” she praises, smiling at him. The boy extends his chubby hand towards her, the Etch-A-Sketch pen gripped into his fleshy palm. “Should I draw something, too?” He nods and Denali’s

smile widens as she watches the ginger absentmindedly write his name on the board in her loopy calligraphy. The one-year-old watches mesmerised as her hand moves. She takes her opportunity to sneak her stethoscope out of her pocket and start listening to his breathing sounds. “That’s not a drawing, Dr McCorkell,” Denali hears herself say and the intern turns to narrow her eyes at her. Teasing is unprofessional, Denali starkly reminds herself, especially in the presence of a patient. “I’m not as talented as Arthur,” she winks as he bats her stethoscope away, his small face contorting up into a scowl. Giggling at a doctor’s wink is also highly unprofessional. “I’m sorry, I know I’m annoying,” Rosé admits, swinging Arthur up into her arms and laying him on the bed. The toddler scrunches his face at her, just about ready to burst into angry tears. Denali steps closer, automatically reaching for her badge. “Hey, champ, look what I got,” she dangles it above his face. His wide eyes snap to the white rectangle, his hands straining up to reach it. “Has he eaten today?” Rosé asks the mother, ready to palpate his tummy. “Just the yogurt,” she sighs. “Everything else contains something he’s allergic to,” the mother looks despaired. Denali’s eyes scan over the breakfast tray - cornflakes, a small slice of bread, butter and some kind of jam. All fairly harmless. She’s checking the exhaustive list of food allergies Arthur has been diagnosed with, when he starts screaming. Rosé huffs in agreement. “Good God, this is the worst part, I promise,” she reassures the child as she presses her palm into his abdomen. “After this you get a reward for being the bravest boy of them all, ok?” She winks and his sobs subside into whimpers. “Could that be sensitivity?” Denali narrows her eyes down at his chart - third day inpatient for a rather nasty bout of diarrhoea with a great evolution since being admitted. “Nah,” the intern dismisses her. “I’m just bothering him with all this examining,” she pulls him up to sitting, “when he’d rather be playing. Right, Arthur?” She smiles, producing a pen from one of her pockets. It’s wildly and brightly coloured and Arthur is mesmerised instantly. “He seems to be doing marvellously,” Rosé informs the mother. “I’ll bring up his discharge today at rounds,” she explains. “What I also want to touch up on are his allergies. With all due respect for his doctor, I’ll talk to Professor Visage about finding him a great allergologist, who can help you tell which ones are actual allergies and which ones are just harmless blood reactions.” Denali laughs, breaking the solemn moment. Arthur had found how to uncap Rosé’s pen and is now proudly shoving the two parts into his mom’s face. Rosé joins in Denali’s laughter. “Such a bright young boy can’t only eat three aliments for the rest of his life,” Rosé quirks an eyebrow, making the little boy giggle. “Thank you so much, doctor McCorkell,” Arthur’s mother clutches her baby close to her body, even as he’s struggling to extend his arms out to Rosé as she puts the cap back onto her pen and hands it to him again. Very few children ever warm up to their doctors so fast. Even Professor Visage, who children adore, doesn’t have this much patience to bring the child to her. “There’s no need to thank me,” Rosé catches the cap that Arthur has just dropped. “Professor Visage is the person in charge,” she smiles. “And I’ll bet he’s spent much more time with Nurse Foxx here than he has with me,” she winks as the boy tries to shove the pen into its cap, filling Rosé’s hand with blue wobbly lines. “So close,” she encourages as another line crosses past her wrist. “He’s only this friendly with you,” the mommy assures and Denali nods. “And you’ve taken the greatest care of him, so thank you. Honey, it’s time to give Doctor McCorkell her pen back,” she urges her son, who clutches it more tightly, drawing it away from his mom’s expecting hand. “Arthur,” Denali says softly, “Doctor McCorkell might cry if you don’t give her pen back to her,” she tells him and his eyes widen. “We don’t want to

see her cry, do we?” Rosé’s eyes snap to hers. The boy fervently shakes his head no, extending the pen out to Rosé. “Thank you, Arthur,” she stuffs it back into her pocket. “Bye,” she calls, beckoning Denali out of the room. The last picture she sees in room 612 is Arthur waving from his mommy’s arms. “That little boy loves you,” Denali says, noticing a slight blush start to creep up into her cheeks. “Oh, stop that,” the ginger tries to hide her face away, but covering her cheeks while her hair is pinned back proves difficult. “And with good reason,” Denali hums under her breath and the only clue that Rosé had heard her is the deepening red colour of her cheeks as she reaches for the next chart she needs from the pile balanced in Denali’s arms.

#rosenali #rosenali ff #omgheyrose #denali foxx #hospital AU

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mistersshelby · 6 years ago

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Hello! I thought i’d request something! the reader is a sketch artist (and tommy’s secret gf). she takes an affinity of sketching the peaky blinders doing different things, without tommy knowing. She delivers these sketches once a month to the pub without anyone seeing her. These sketches worry Thomas, and he thinks they are a threat from another gang. he sets out a hunt for the artist. Arthur finds the reader and tortures her without tommys permission and when tommy finds out he feels so bad

thank you for your request!! I’m sorry it took so long, but I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it!!

You always sketched Tommy, usually from mental images you’d conjure up in the middle of the night when you missed him. Then, when Tommy started talking about missions he and his men would do, you’d imagine them in your head and then draw them out.

Too embarrassed about them, you never showed Tommy. But as time went on and the sketches piled up, you thought they might be a sweet little secret gift to start dropping off at the shop, sort of like a secret admirer. So once a month, before the Garrison opened, you’d slip the sketches under the door and be on your way.

But a couple months passed and Tommy never mentioned them. You still dropped them off.

***

“Why can’t we tell everyone about our relationship?” You asked one day in bed, Tommy running his fingers lightly over your shoulder.

He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “Why do you ask questions that you know the answer to?”

You pouted, “I asked you first.”

He smirks and his fingers follow the curve of your cheek down until he cups your chin, “Because the thought of you being used against me or you being hurt because of me makes me want to rip out my own heart.” You pretend not to notice the way his voice wavers with emotion, you know the nightmares he’s had about you being taken and tortured by someone who found out Tommy’s weakness.

You move closer to him until your noses touch, “I love you.” You say softly.

He gently presses his lips to yours, “I love you.” He repeats into your mouth.

So you let it go. And months later, Tommy’s greatest fear comes to fruition.

***

There were papers on the floor again, the bartender had reported and handed them off to Tommy. He flipped through them like he had the last time. Sketch after sketch of their inner dealings and meetings at the Garrison. Someone was watching them and it was making him paranoid.

“Someone’s watching us.” He announced at the next family meeting and tossed the sketches across the table. “These have been dropped at the Garrison, slipped under the door before opening four times now.”

Ada picked one up, “Some of these are from family meetings in the shop though, how is that possible?”

“Dunno,” Tommy said as he lit a cigarette, “Feels like a threat to me, though.”

“It’s an odd threat.” Pol said, her eyebrows knitted together, “Whatever happened to good old fashioned hand-delivered bullets?”

“What d’you think this means, Tom?” Arthur put down a sketch, “Who d’you think it is?”

Tommy shook his head and sighed, exasperated, “Dunno, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now. The drawings aren’t signed. No indication at all who it is. I’m telling you all to just… Be on the lookout. If you see anything… Let me know. I’ll be in London this weekend for meetings, you all know how to contact me if anything happens. Be careful.”

And just like that, the meeting ended and Tommy headed to London, leaving you behind.

***

It was Saturday night and Tommy was in London. You liked to be near the Shelby family while he was away, even though they didn’t know you, being around them made you feel like Tommy was closeby. So you took your sketch pad and headed to the Garrison.

Pol and Ada weren’t here tonight and that disappointed you a bit, they were your favorite to sketch. You liked that Tommy had a lot of women on his team, that he valued their opinions. It was hard to find that in men. Instead, you sketched Arthur, John, and Finn, sitting at a table, laughing and drinking pint after pint. You wished for what felt like the millionth time that you could meet them. You wanted to be fully immersed in Tommy, including his family. He insisted you weren’t missing much, that you wouldn’t want to meet them anyway, but it never stopped thoughts of what it would be like to have tea with Ada and Polly and go shopping on Sundays and complain about the boys and their business.

Instead, you were stuck watching from afar. Intertwined but detached all at once. You noticed John and Arthur grew serious all of a sudden and then a few minutes later, they left the bar. You frowned, it must be some business thing, but it didn’t much matter because you didn’t have anyone to sketch anymore. It was getting late anyway, so you packed up your things and headed out of the bar.

You were only walking for a few seconds when someone pulled you into an empty alley, but you didn’t have time to scream as a hand came up to cover your mouth, “Now, we can make this easy and painless for you, or we can make it very, very hard.” You recognize Arthur’s voice immediately and confusion floods your brain, “Who are you working for and why the fuck do you keep watching us and leaving drawings at the pub, eh?”

You realized John was behind you, holding your arms, “I don’t have a weapon on me,” You said when Arthur removed his hand, “You can let me go.”

Arthur punched you in the stomach and the air knocked out of you, “That wasn’t what I asked.”

When you caught your breath again, tears stung the corners of your eyes, “The drawings are stupid, I-- I just like watching all of you. You’re the Shelbys, you’re like royalty in Birmingham, they’re just silly sketches--”

“Then why are their drawings of our private meetings? Our secret dealings?” John chimed in.

You closed your eyes and sighed, there was no way to explain this that they would believe, not even the truth. “You wouldn’t believe me. Please, I don’t have an affiliation with any gang, I work at the shop down the street, you can ask them—“

This time, Arthur punched you in the jaw, “You talk too much. C’mon John, let’s bring her to the shop.”

You went with them willingly, not wanting to cause a scene, but sniffling all the way. Of course they saw the drawings as a threat, how could you be so stupid? You hadn’t even told Tommy about them and you were sure now he had told the Shelbys to be on the lookout while he was away.

You whimpered a bit as John strapped you to a chair in a dark basement. You knew what this chair was for. Though Tommy had hoped and prayed this would never happen, he had prepared you for it nonetheless.

“If anyone ever takes you for information, I don’t care what it is, you give them everything.”

“What if the information could get you killed?”

“Love, I don’t care about that, I can figure out a way around it, but I’d never forgive myself if I lost you, you understand?”

You thought of this conversation as Arthur spread out a variety of tools, “I-I can tell you everything, but you have to promise me you’ll call Tommy and let me speak to him, it’ll prove everything.”

“What d’you know about Tommy?” John asked, clearly suspicious.

You swallowed, “I know of his nightmares, how when he can’t sleep the only thing he wants is some whiskey, I know he’s in London right now for a very important meeting about the whiskey you lot create, I—“

Arthur grabbed your hand, running a small knife under your smallest nail, “And how the fuck would you know about all this? Some shop girl from Birmingham?”

You swallowed, “Because he’s in love with me, and I with him.”

There was a moment of silence and then Arthur and John laughed aloud as Arthur jammed the knife under your nail and ripped it off, unsympathetic to your wails. When the pain dulled, you begged again, “Please, if I could just speak to him—“

“Who do you work for?

“I already told you,” You sobbed, “the shop down the street.”

Arthur took another nail. It went on like this for what felt like hours until you just flat out refused to speak to them, showed no reaction when Arthur’s knife came near you. Only then did they leave you alone, but not before spitting on you and calling you a “daft cunt.”

Only once you heard the door shut did you let yourself cry, praying Tommy came home soon. And then you sank into sleep.

***

“Found the drawer, Tommy.” Arthur said into the phone, “Think you should have a wack at her though, she won’t bloody tell us anythin’. Been torturin’ her for hours. Didn’t want to take her fingers, but I’m starting to think it’s the only way.”

Tommy loosed a breath, “Arthur, did I give you permission to kidnap and torture anyone?”

“Tommy, we found her drawing us at the Garrison on Saturday night. It’s her, we’re sure of it.”

“You’re sure? Would you bet your life on it? Why isn’t she talking, then?”

“I--I dunno.” There it was, the note of uncertainty in Arthur’s voice.

Tommy felt his anger rising, “You don’t torture anyone until I get back, you hear me? You don’t so much as look at anyone threateningly or I’ll kick your sorry arse, got it?”

“You sure Tommy? I can warm her up for you.”

“Arthur.” Tommy tried to rein in his anger, “Don’t. Touch. Her.” And then he hung up the phone. Before leaving, he dialed you, but you didn’t pick up. Something was definitely wrong, but Tommy was still too afraid to acknowledge it.

***

When the door clanged shut, your head shot up from where it had sat against your chest and your heart raced as you waited to see who would come down the stairs. When you saw Tommy you began to sob with relief, “Thomas, Tommy, please, please untie me.”

There was unchecked rage on Tommy’s face as he stepped into the light in front of you, “Arthur, John, get upstairs now.” And he began untying you.

“Tommy, she-- She’s the one who’s been doing all the drawings--” John started.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Tommy said, deadly quiet, “Get out of my sight.”

“Tom--” Arthur tried again.

“Why does nobody fuckin’ listen to me, eh? I said get out!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he turned back to his brothers and they finally had the good sense to back away and head back up the stairs. Only when the door shut did he turn back to you.

“Y/N, I-- I’m so sorry, I don’t understand how this happened.” He finished the last tie and let you fall into his arms, pulling you to his chest as your sobs wracked your small body.

“Tommy.” Was all you managed to say and you pulled him closely, ignoring the pain that ran through your fingers from Arthur.

“What did he do to you?” You could hear in his voice he was close to breaking.

“My nails.” You started, “He punched me a lot, think I might have a broken rib. Tommy, I’m sorry, I told him the truth.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said as he searched your skin, pulling his hands away when you flinched.

“I was too embarrassed to tell you about the sketches, that’s why I dropped them off like that, and I wanted your family to see them. Thought it would be a way for me to be connected to them, no matter how distant,” You started crying again then, “I didn’t think… I never stopped to think that you would see them as a threat.”

Tommy’s eyes were shiny as he looked down at you, how could he fix this? How could he fix what his own family had done to you? All because he insisted on keeping you a secret. “This is all my fault. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I let this happen. I’m gonna tell them everything, alright? Promise. Let’s bring you upstairs, I’ll get you some tea.”

You smiled at him, and God, it broke him to see that smile now. After all that he had put you through, you could still smile at him. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. But you nodded, and he gently carried you up the stairs and to the couch while Arthur and John watched silently.

“Leave her alone.” Tommy said, his voice gravelly, and he walked by them to put on tea water. You had already fallen asleep by the time it was finished, so he put a blanket over you and set the mug on the table next to you.

Tommy called a family meeting while you were asleep and explained to everyone what had happened. Whenever anyone raised their voice, he was quiet them, reminding them that you were in the next room sleeping. And once everyone left, he sat in the chair next to you and did nothing but watch your chest rise and fall for hours.

Hoping, praying, that he hadn’t put you through too much. That you wouldn’t be cursed with nightmares the way he had. That you wouldn’t decide it was too much and leave.

So while he watched you sleep, he prayed. He wasn’t a religious man, but Tommy prayed to whoever was up there that you would stay and he would make this all up to you. One day, you would be his wife, and he would make it all up to you.

He swore it.

#mine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #ohnogoodnesss #answered

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novilistinspirations · 5 years ago

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Trust Your Instincts

Gregory Mason finished his final sketch around 11pm on Thursday evening. He set the ruler aside and stared at his project. It was an elementary school designed for a small town nearby. Gregory leaned back in his chair, and it creaked under the added stress. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if he had included too many windows (or not enough), before finally turning off the drawing table light, deciding he'd done enough for one day.

He was the last one in the office, as he had wanted to finish the project by the end of the week, and was cutting close to his deadline.

He glanced at his watch, though he already knew from the black sky outside that it was well past the point his wife, Ellen, would have liked him to be home. She doesn't like having to put their daughter to bed without him. He knew he may be in for another lecture on how important the first five years of a child's development are. It would be less than a year until Kara turned five.

He rubbed his eyes, already feeling too tired for the half hour drive back to his house. Frequently, Kara would stay up and wait for him to get home if he wasn't there in time to tuck her in.

It was that thought that motivated him to get up from his chair and start getting ready to leave. He pulled on his jacket and threw away his half-empty coffee cup that had long since gone cold.

He left his office, shutting the door behind him, and began making his way down the hall toward the stairwell. Half way down the hall he realized he forgot his keycard, and turned to go back and retrieve it. Then he stopped.

At the back of the building, where the cubicles are located, the lights were on. The lights are automatic, so this meant the motion censor must have been triggered.

Gregory had thought that he was alone in the building, but he assumed someone had simply forgotten something, and returned briefly to get it from their workstation while he had been too involved in his project to notice. He walked back to his office, retrieving the keycard from the top drawer of his desk.

Then he heard something.

Shuffling, as though someone were dragging their feet across the carpet.

Gregory is a logical man. He knew that it was likely just an intern, and that there was no reason for him to feel unnerved. Despite his reasoning, he felt the hair standing up on his neck, and his heartrate increased, as though his body was instinctively reacting to a danger he couldn't consciously perceive.

He brushed off the thought, blaming it on the long workday and lack of sleep. Despite this, as he left his office he shut the door as quietly as possible. He mentally scolded himself, thinking it was ridiculous for him to be hiding from an imaginary predator. He decided he would go and check the back room, just to prove to himself that there was nothing wrong.

He turned left down the hall, toward the cubicles. By the time he had walked to the end of the hallway, he had convinced himself there would be nothing of interest for him to find. However, when he reached the room, his heart leapt into his throat.

There, standing near the opposite wall, was a man. His back was turned to Gregory, and although it wasn't possible to be sure, as there were several cubicles between them, he appeared to be unclothed. His hair was dark and ragged, and his skin was very pale. He had spots of dirt caked onto him, as though he had been sleeping in the mud. He was shaking, and seemed very unstable, as if he might fall over at any moment.

Gregory's initial instinct was to run, as he had already been slightly paranoid before seeing the man, however, he did not act on it. He remained calm, telling himself to be rational. He assumed the man was troubled, perhaps homeless, or mentally ill. Gregory thought he should talk to the man, and then decide if it would be necessary to call the police.

"Excuse me," Gregory said, but did not finish his sentence.

As the man turned to face him, his head lolled to the side, as though his neck couldn't properly support the weight of it. His movements were slow, and lacking control. He kicked his legs out before taking each step to turn, dragging his feet across the floor to bring them close enough to support his body. This brought the image of a puppet on strings to Gregory's mind, and he felt a sudden jolt of fear through his chest.

When the man turned around fully, Gregory could see his face perfectly under the fluorescent light, and his fear turned to panic.

The man's skin was practically grey, and what had seemed to be mud now appeared closer to rot. The man's jaw hung open, in his mouth a strange black liquid swirled around rapidly. His eyelids had been removed, and the sockets were rimmed with blood. His eyes did not sit inside the sockets, but behind them, as though they couldn't quite fit. They were bright orange, with thin black pupils slitted vertically down the center.

For a moment Gregory felt frozen. He couldn't process what he was seeing, and so he couldn't react. He just stood and stared, ice cold dread filling his chest and closing his throat (not that it would have helped him to scream). It wasn't until the creature took a step toward him, once again producing that long dragging sound across the carpet, that Gregory was able to force his legs to move.

He turned and fled down the hall, attempting to look both in front of him and behind him at once. For how much difficulty the creature seemed to have with movement, by the time Gregory reached the other end of the hall it had already maneuvered it's way through the cubicles, and was chasing him with jerky, lopsided steps. It's feet twisted around as it flailed toward him, and Gregory wondered if the creature even had bones to support it's limbs. This didn't seem to hinder it, as it dropped to the ground and launched itself down the hallway on all fours.

Gregory's breath came in short gasps, each one producing a small panicked shout. He could hear his heart pound in his ears as the creature somehow managed to gain speed, the black liquid audibly whirling in it's throat.

When he finally reached the door to the stairwell, Gregory twisted the knob and slammed into the door so forcefully he fell forward onto the landing. He turned onto his back, seeing the creature sprinting at him, it's eyes moving erratically behind the bloodied eyesockets, the black liquid swishing and whirling in and out of it's mouth. Gregory kicked at the door. He missed twice, then hit it on the third time. It slammed shut, the lock setting automatically. He heard a loud thump as the creature failed to stop in time. Gregory scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the stair railing for support. He started down, but when he reached the second landing he heard a sound like running water, and looked back up the stairs.

Thick black liquid was flooding out from under the door, and began pouring down the stairs toward him. Gregory dashed down the second flight, leaping over the last three steps and just barely managing to get his footing as he landed. He crashed through the exit door and into the parking lot, sprinting for his car. He cursed himself for parking so far back, no longer daring to look behind him.

He didn't slow his pace until he reached the car, fumbling to get his keyfob out and unlock it. The moment he was sat down inside he jammed the key into the ignition, slamming his foot on the accelerator before he'd even gotten it in gear.

Within seconds he was out of the parking lot and making his way toward the freeway, not bothering to consider the speed limit.

It wasn't until he was half way home that his heart rate finally started to slow. His eyes darted repeatedly to the rearview mirror, although he didn't know how the creature could possibly follow him going ninety down the highway. He told himself he needed to calm down. He didn't want to tell his wife what had happened. Even if he had wanted to, he didn't think he could.

By the time he reached his house he had managed to get himself into the frame of mind to feign normalcy. He parked in the driveway, and tried not to appear too jumpy as he scanned the yard on his way to the front door, but he couldn't help looking over his shoulder. When he got inside, Ellen was on the couch in the living room. She stood as soon as she heard him enter.

"Oh, Greg, thank god you're alright." She wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly, before taking a step back and slapping his shoulder, "what kept you?" She demanded.

"What do you mean?" He asked, hoping she couldn't see how shaken he was, "You know I was at work."

"Didn't you see the news?" She asked, her eyes were wide.

"No. Why, what happened?" He asked, sitting down on the sofa.

She sat next to him, twisting her hands anxiously, "A man was murdered, right by your office. Greg, it's absolutely horrible, the person that did it must have been completely deranged." She said.

Gregory felt cold, and balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, "by my office?" He asked.

"Yes, and it was so awful." She covered her mouth with her hand, "his whole body- everything had been pulled out."

"Pulled out? What do you mean pulled out?" Gregory could feel the fear pricking in his chest again.

"Pulled out of his skin, and they don't know where it is. They found his insides just- just strewn around behind one of the buildings in town, less than a block away from where you were working." Her voice became very strained, "And because they couldn't find his- his skin, they can't identify him yet, and you were so late getting home, and I couldn't help but think-" She stiffled a sob.

"Elle, I'm right here, I'm fine." Gregory pulled her to his chest, hiding his fear behind the attempt to comfort her. His mind raced with the thought of how very close he was to being that man. How it could have been his skin that creature had been wearing next. He suppressed a shudder.

After several long moments, Ellen had calmed down, and decided to go to bed. Gregory assured her he'd be there in a moment, and went down the hall to their daughter's room. Her door was cracked so that just enough light could stream in from the hallway. She was asleep, as he expected, with a worn stuffed rabbit clutched in her arms.

Gregory sat down gently on her bed, and as he listened to the steadiness of her breathing he finally began to feel a sense of relief. He would not be going back to the office the next day. He'd never go back, if he could help it. He made the decision to put in a transfer request in the morning. Perhaps he'd even look for a new job entirely.

Feeling slightly better after seeing his daughter sleeping soundly and having a plan sorted, he left Kara's room. Being sure to leave the door cracked the way she liked it, he went to check that the house doors were locked before turning in.

He checked the front door first, than the garage, and finally went to the sliding glass door at the back. He pulled the curtain aside, and seeing that the lock was set, he began pulling the curtain back into place when something caught his attention, and his blood ran cold.

Just outside their backyard fence, he could have sworn he saw a pair of orange eyes.

#short stories #writers #horror #horror stories #horror short #horror short story #horror short stories #writings #writing

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years ago

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One In A Million - Chpt.6

Summary: Rose spends an idyllic holiday season with the guys before tragedy strikes, threatening to disrupt the timeline that Rose is trying so hard to keep on course.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re in full swing relationship mode now and I just adore the whole “stucky x reader” set up. Prepare yourself for sweet fluff and a pinch of angst before even sweeter fluff. Because ya’ll should know by now that’s my jam lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Six

Dating the guys turns out to be very similar to what you had been doing up until that point. They come over every other day, sometimes every day if your schedules align. In public Steve is your boyfriend and you happily chit chat with the girls at the office who all are curious about how smitten you are with the tiny, shy, artist. There’s always that ache in your chest though, when you want to share something about Bucky but can’t. He’s your boyfriend’s best friend and while you can tell the occasional story about the three of you hanging out, there’s so much you can’t share. The truth is, Bucky is actually the sweeter of the two. He’s desperately affectionate and tactile with you and Steve. While Steve will spend an afternoon drawing something in his sketch pad, Bucky isn’t happy unless he’s tangled around you like an octopus. You indulge him often, surprised by how easy it is to be close with him. Steve jokes that it’s nice having someone else for Bucky to throw himself on for a change. Not that Steve isn’t affectionate, but he’s more like a cat; coming to you in infrequent bursts when the mood strikes him.

The holidays come and go quietly. Bucky and Steve head up to visit Bucky’s family for a few days and you stay home eagerly awaiting their return. You made them promise not to get anything but they both show up on your doorstep with gifts in hand when they get back. Steve gives you a sketch of the three of you sprawled out on the sofa together. It’s beautifully done and you promise to keep it on your bedside table. Bucky gives you a pair of the thick woolly socks you steal from him whenever you spend time at their place. They’re your favorite and you’re touched knowing he put a lot of thought into your gift. You grumble about them spending money on you but they ignore it, doing the same when they unwrap their packages.

You had wanted to get them things they wouldn’t have bought for themselves. Steve has to stop halfway through thanking you for his new art supplies, choking up with emotion until he finally just pulls you in his arms for a hug that lasts for what feels like forever. Bucky actually is rendered speechless by his coat and gloves. He showers you with kisses when his brain finally catches up and you know he’s appreciative of the gift. He had gone without a new coat for a few years now, his getting more worn and threadbare each season. Bucky always claimed getting a warm coat for Steve was the priority, letting his own wait even when it really couldn’t. The gloves were likewise necessary. His hands were always chapped from the bitter cold and dampness down at the docks and they couldn’t afford good leather gloves that would keep his hands dry.

The three of you spend the whole weekend in your apartment, snuggled safely away from the world. The guys are both gentlemen through and through, volunteering to take the sofa and the floor to sleep on. You know girls aren’t supposed to be so free in the ‘40s but you can’t possibly let them sleep uncomfortably when you have a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. Bucky caves first, pointing out that Steve has enough health problems without him sleeping badly and aggravating his back. You lead them both down the hall to your bed where they slip in next to you like they belong there. Bucky claims the middle, the prime cuddling spot, or so he claims, leaving you and Steve to trade amused grins over him.

New Years Eve and Day are spent at their apartment, Steve claiming it’s only fair since they celebrated Christmas at yours. He cooks up a small hunk of corned beef, simmering it slowly all day with cabbage, potatoes, and other root vegetables he was able to get on sale. It’s quite different than the pork and sauerkraut you’re used to but you go along with their traditions without complaint. You sit around dreaming up plans for 1942 together, places to go and things to do. Bucky mentions the rink at Rockefeller center, everyone has been talking about it since it opened a few years ago and it’s supposed to be quite an experience. Steve agrees it would be a good time and tells Bucky they should start saving now so they can take you before spring comes. You shake your head, “Why wait?” you ask them, “It’s probably still decorated from Christmas. What better time to go than when it’s at it’s best? We can go tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, a tight smile on his face. “We’re just dreamin’, doll. As much as we want to take you, that place is for those fancy Manhattan folks. Last I heard, it was a dollar a skate and then we have the subway cost to get there and back.”

“So I’ll pay for it, I don’t care. I want to take you two out and do something fun. Start the new year off right.”

The pinched look on Steve’s face deepens, “We don’t need your charity…”

“My what!?” you bark at him. Bucky has inched back, wisely staying out of the escalating argument. He has enough sisters to know that Steve is not winning this one.

“I know this isn’t the most traditional relationship but you gotta let us take care of you, doll. Like a man should.”

“Steven. Grant. Rogers.” you grit out in outrage, “If I want to take you out I damn well will. Don’t start with that antiquated, patriarchal, misogynistic bullshit!”

Steve flushes, his cheeks burning brightly, and he stands up from his seat on the sofa to storm off to his bedroom where he slams the door behind him.

Bucky shoots you a raised eyebrow, making sure he isn’t in trouble by association. You shake your head and sit back heavily, worried you ruined New Years Day.

“He’ll be okay, just give him a minute to calm down.” Buck assures you, “You and I both know Stevie supports the women’s rights movement but it’s still a hard habit to break, wanting to take care of our best gal.”

You climb into Bucky’s arms, wanting the comfort it brings you, “I’m sorry for ruining the holiday.”

“You didn’t ruin a thing. Just give him a few more minutes and then go talk to him. You have to understand, we didn’t grow up with money. I know you did so it’s not something you worry about, but that’s hard for us to adjust to.”

You snuggle in against him, letting the minutes slip by until you can go to Steve and make things right.

When you do finally go to him, Steve is staring out the window, brow furrowed under the weight of his thoughts. You apologize, and so does he. You both know your hearts were in the right place even if it doesn’t always come out that way.

The next day you take your guys ice skating at Rockefeller Center just like you had wanted to. They insist on buying lunch and you let them, a quiet compromise to keep everyone happy. You skate for hours until your legs are weak and your fingertips and noses are frozen from the cold. Bucky fusses over both of you the whole way home, worried you’ll catch your death. It was the best day you can remember having in years, and one you’ll cherish the memory of forever. It was also the last good day you had together before it all went to hell.

xxXxx

Bucky’s concern over Steve or you getting sick turns out to be legitimate. Two days after your trip Steve is coughing deep and rough, his asthmatic lungs not faring well against the illness he’s caught. By the third day he’s in bed with a fever that climbs faster than the medicine can work. Bucky can’t take the time off work, not if he wants to keep a roof over their heads, and so you call out from the SSR office, letting them know your boyfriend is not well.

Seeing Steve suffering is a new level of hell. He’s sweaty from the fever, shaking from chills, and the cough in his chest could wake the dead. It’s amazing his body doesn’t just shatter apart from the force of it. You stay by his side, giving him sips of warm broth and tea when he can manage and reading to him from his favorite books. After a week he looks like a skeleton, shrunken on himself and devoid of the liveliness he normally radiates with. Bucky calls the doctor then, scared of the cost but more afraid of losing the love of his life.

You can’t help but blame yourself. You knew Steve was prone to getting sick but you had pushed to go skating with them. It was selfish, so selfish, and now Steve was paying the price. Bucky tries to soothe your fears and guilt, reminding you Steve caught pneumonia just by stepping outside most years. You put on your bravest face and smile so Bucky will have one less thing to worry about, but it doesn’t alleviate your guilt in the least. There’s also the undercurrent of fear that you’ve messed up the timelines now and ruined everything. He has to pull through. He has to, so he can go be Captain America and save the world, you tell yourself.

Bucky won’t let you pay for the doctor who comes or the medicine he prescribes. You argue over it briefly but Bucky insists he saves for things like this and they’ll be fine. Steve comes out of it a few days later, the new medicine doing its job at last.

“Hey,” Steve croaks, his voice rough from disuse.

Your eyes fly up from the book you’re reading to meet bright blue eyes that are focusing on you for the first time in ten days. “Steve.” you squeak out through the tightness in your throat. You can’t contain your relief. “Oh honey, I thought we were gonna lose you.” you sob.

Steve reaches out with a painfully thin hand, “It’s gonna be okay.”

“God, I was so scared.”

“Come on, get in here with me if you can stand the smell.” he jokes weakly.

You carefully climb into bed with him, pulling him close until you’re lying flush against one another. You stroke the sweat sticky hair from his face, running your fingers over the sharp bones of his cheeks. Steve is too worn out to protest as you sprinkle kisses across his face.

“If this is the treatment for whatever I had, sign me up for another round.”

You frown at him fiercely. “Don’t even joke. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.”

“I’ve done nothing else for ten days. I can’t lose you, I love you.” Tears are still falling from your eyes but you catch the change in Steve’s expression. You hadn’t even realized you said I love you out loud, having repeated it so often in your head while at his bedside that it feels natural now.

“You love me, huh?” his eyes shine with amazement, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” you admit, not wanting to take it back now that the truth is out.

“I love you too, Rose. Does Bucky know yet?”

“I haven’t said it to him yet. I will though, tonight.”

“Make sure I’m there when you do. I’m sure he’ll react much better than when I said it to him the first time.” he huffs out a weak laugh and you reach back to get him a cup of tea from the side table. Steve sips slowly, letting his body adjust. “Do you wanna guess what that jerk said to me when I told him I was in love with him?”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“I was fifteen and he was sixteen. It was summer and we were flush after he got his first paycheck from helping sweep up at the docks where his dad worked. We spent the day at Coney Island eating hot dogs and riding the ferris wheel until they kicked us off. We were sitting down on the beach watching the waves as the moon came up, everyone else had left by then, and I realized it was the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked over at him and said ‘I love you, Buck’ to which the idiot said ‘love you too, pal.” easy as could be. So I told him ‘I’m in love with you.” and the great buffoon shoved at me and said “You do not!”. So then I shoved at him back and we ended up rolling around scrapping on the beach until finally, one of us let up. It wasn’t until we’d gotten home to my place that said he was in love with me too.”

“That’s terrible and wonderful. I love it.” you tell him.

“I never thought we’d find someone like you. I can’t believe I got this lucky twice.”

You blush at his words, unable to believe his love for you could be even remotely close to his feelings for Bucky.

“What time is it?” Steve asks squinting at the clock.

“Quarter after four.” you reach to the nightstand for his glasses so he can see for himself too.

“I hate to ask this of you, but could you help me to the bathroom? I could really use a shower.”

“Honey, it’s okay. Bucky and I have been taking turns caring for you so it’s no big deal.”

“Great. Not exactly the first impression I’d like to leave when you see me naked the first time.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” you scold him as you let him support himself on you to stand, “If you think for one minute I’m going to see something I don’t like when I look at you, you’re crazy.”

Steve grumbles but decides he wants to be clean more than he wants to act tough. You half help, half carry Steve into the bathtub, setting him down carefully inside it while you get the water nice and warm. He tries to wash himself but his arms are shaking after a minute and you take over washing his hair for him, getting it nice and clean for the first time in over a week. The bath exhausts Steve and he naps while you make dinner, barely keeping his eyes open to dry off.

Bucky is ecstatic when you tell him Steve was awake and talking earlier. He barely stops to give you a kiss before he’s barging into the bedroom to see Steve. You join them a little while later, eating dinner in bed on trays so that Steve can rest but still be included. He’s sleeping again before he even finishes his soup, his tray whisked away to let him rest peacefully between you and Bucky. You talk quietly over him, catching up on your days and sharing in your relief that he’s finally improved.

“Thank you for helping me care for him. It got really bad this time. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” Bucky says again, grateful for all your help over the past week.

“It was no problem. I love him, of course I wanted to take care of him when he’s sick.”

Bucky looks over, surprised. “You love him, huh?”

“I do.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s easy to love.” Bucky looks down at Steve with such sweetness it’s hard for you not to jump over Steve and kiss him.

“Hey Buck.” you catch his attention again.

“Hmm?” he finally looks over at you.

“I love you too.”

Bucky smiles wide and warm like the sun. “You do, huh?”

“Yep.” you chew on your lip, waiting for his next move.

“It’s a good thing then. ‘Cause I love you too.” Bucky gets up, coming around to your side of the bed where he can pull you up into his arms.

“I love you.” you whisper between kisses.

“I love you, so much doll.” he replies, burying his face into the curve of your neck.

“Ah shit. Steve wanted to be awake for that.” you groan.

“What? Why?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

“He wanted to make sure you didn’t shove me after I said it.”

“Oh no, he told you the story!” Bucky is cringing, embarrassed by the memory.

“It’s sweet.” you assure him.

Bucky starts trailing kisses up your throat again and you sink into his embrace, letting yourself enjoy the contact after a week of tense worry.

Steve really will be okay, you’re sure of that now. The timeline is intact despite all of your involvement in their lives and you just have to get through the next four months without disrupting anything else. Though how you are going to walk away from the two of them is getting more and more complicated.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz

#one in a million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #named reader #captain america #stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #time travel #1940s setting #marvel #marvel fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Stitch Us Back Together, Chapter 2 Aftermath (Kamasia) - Crazy4Kameron

A/N:As always a huge thank you goes out to my ride and die Mistress for helping make sense of these two useless lesbians. Cheetah for supporting all of my dumb ideas and helping take them from one shot ideas to multi part fics and finally Mac for loving Klair as much as I do, and always supporting my work.

Summary:Previously Kam and Asia decided to take a sewing class together taught by Asia’s idol. In an attempt to get Asia to enter a design contest Kam goes behind Asia’s back and it backfires horribly in her face.Now get to see the aftermath of their fight, but will they be able to patch things up?

The first thing Kameron did when she finally made it back to her car, after calling Asia her Lyft, was call Blair to tell her what happened. She was weeping as soon as her sister asked what was wrong.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Blair.” Kameron sniffled. “I fucked everything up, and now she hates me.” Kameron completely broke at this point, tears and snot streaming down her face.

“Kameron baby, I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m pretty sure that Asia doesn’t hate you. Just try to calm down and breathe, we can talk about it more when you get home. Why don’t you put on your calming playlist and I’ll stay on the line with you till you feel better.“ Blair did her best to use the most soothing tone she could. She knew that was what Kameron needed most when she got like this. Blair knew that Kameron had heard her, when she heard the familiar sounds of Reba MacIntyre playing over the speakers of Kameron’s car. They sat in silence for a while, Blair quietly singing along with the song and when she heard that her sister had stopped sobbing and sniffling as much she spoke.

"How are you doing? You think you’re okay to drive home now?” It would have been almost condescending her tone if it hadn’t been for the fact that Blair had years of practice calming her sister. Knowing that sometimes she needed to talk to her like she was a child.

“Yeah, I’ll be home in, uh, eleven minutes,” Kam stated, checking the clock in her car. Her voice was still a little wobbly, but stronger than before.

Blair knew that Kam would be alright to drive home when she heard her softly singing along to Shaina Twain playing in the background so she said her goodbyes and hung up, but went to the front door to wait and watch for her sister’s car.

—-

Kameron was laying facedown on Blair’s bed crying into a pillow, Blair gently rubbing her back. “How could I have been so stupid, to think that was a good idea?” Kameron hiccupped.

“Babe, you were just following your heart and doing what you thought was best.” Blair gently tucked a piece of hair behind one of Kam’s ears. “ Even if I did try and warn you,” Blair said under her breath.

“The last time I followed my heart, it turned me into the school laughing stock. Asia was the first and only girl to ever really like me back and I ruined it!” Kameron jammed her face back into the pillow as she began to bawl her eyes out again.

Blair just kept rubbing soothing circles into her sister’s back, the only thing she could really do at this point. She had learned over the years that when Kameron was like this the best thing to do was just let her cry it out for a bit. Then she could maybe talk some sense into her. Blair had tried to warn Kameron (ahead of time) that perhaps, stealing your girlfriend’s personal belongings and going behind her back, no matter how justified your motives may seem, was probably a bad idea. But she knew that Kameron needed to learn, and do things for herself.

“Okay, get up. You’ve cried about this and felt bad for long enough. You messed things up, now you’re going to figure out a way to fix them.” Blair stood at the end of her bed, hands on her hips with a look of determination.

Kameron whimpered “But, but, but–”

“NO BUTS!” Blair threw a teddy bear at Kameron’s head. ”Now get up.”

“HEY! God, okay, I’m getting up.” she moaned, rubbing her head where the teddy bear had connected. “No need to get violent. I thought Princess Fairy Star was a good Magical girl?” Kameron smirked as she chucked the stuffed animal back at Blair.

Blair quickly put her arms up to deflect the flying object. “I told you to never call me that again! And just cause I’m good doesn’t mean I can’t use force,” she sneered.

“Okay there… Princess Fairy Star.” Kameron mocked, as she threw a stuffed duck at Blair, hitting her square in the face. Kameron’s hands flew to her face to try and suppress giggles.

Blair only glared at the redhead, who was now full-on laughing.

“I’m glad you’re at least smiling now,” Blair admitted haughtily. “But can we please try and come up with a plan to show your girlfriend how sorry your dumbass is?”

The sisters spent the rest of the night talking about why Kameron’s plan had failed and brainstorming exactly how she could possibly make it up to Asia.

The next day Kameron awoke and checked her phone, and was again reminded of the mistake she had made the night before. There was no good morning text from Asia like there normally would be, only a few late-night texts from a tipsy Vanjie telling her that she was going to be later for work than normal and ‘culd u bring coffe in da mornin, I’ll owe u.’

Kameron laid in bed a little longer than normal, not really wanting to get up today. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. She was contemplating calling in sick for work, when she heard a knocking at her door. “Come in.” rolling her eyes to herself, Kameron let out a sigh, knowing that her plan of calling in sick was not going to happen.

Blair slowly opened the door only enough to stick her head in, “Hey Kam, how ya feeling this morning?”

Kameron put on the most reassuring smile she could muster at that moment before answering, “There was no good morning text, I don’t really know what I expected, but it still hurt to see.” Kameron was looking at her phone like it held answers to questions she didn’t know she needed answered.” I guess it’s what I deserve though, after what I did.”

Blair opened the door all the way and went to sit on the end of the bed, ”Just give her some time, we talked about this last night remember?” Kameron nodded her head.

“I could let you sit in bed all day and sulk, but like the good sister that I am I’m kicking your ass out of bed and forcing you to go to work.” Blair then ripped the covers off of Kameron. ”Up, shower, get dressed, I’ll make breakfast.”

Kameron groaned in response as she rolled out of bed. How anyone could seem that chipper and happy so early in the morning was still a mystery to her.

——

Asia arrived at work the same time she always did. As she went about her normal daily routine of opening the complex, something felt wrong, or maybe not wrong, but unquestionably strange. She knew that day might be a little different, due to her fight with Kameron, but she didn’t think that it would affect her this much.

When she got home last night, she was met by Monét and Nina curled up on the living room couch, eating popcorn and watching Jeopardy.

“You’re home early. How was the class?” Monét asked, hearing the front door open, Asia grumbling under her breath while fighting to get her keys out of the door, that she slammed shut once she had succeeded. That was followed by the loud thudding of Asia kicking her shoes off, which led Monét to the conclusion that things were about to get ugly.

“You’re lucky your girlfriend is here, or I’d ream your ass out for what you did!” Asia snarled as she went to her room, and slammed the door.

“I’m guessing things didn’t go well tonight,” Nina said, removing herself from her girlfriend. “You should maybe go and talk to her.”

“Do I have to talk to her right now?” Monét asked, trying her best to give puppy eyes, hoping that it would help her cause.

“Yes. Now Monét.” Nina pointed towards the hallway, “And when you get back from talking to her, I may have a treat for you.” Nina winked, kissing Monét on the cheek before sending her off.

“Knock knock,” Monét said knocking on the door, before opening it a little. “Can I come in?”

“What do you want?” Asia sneered. Laying on her bed, she refused to look up from the book she was pretending to read.

“So I’m guessing you didn’t like the surprise that Kameron had for you?” Monét sheepishly asked from the doorway.

“No Monét I did not!” Asia’s voice was low with contempt. ”It actually almost ruined our entire relationship if you must know. Now I’m tired, can you please just leave me alone.” Asia huffed out, completely defeated by the day.

Monét rolled her eyes, thinking that Asia was being a little over dramatic about the whole situation.“You know how much Kameron cares about you, and that she would never do anything to ruin your relationship. At least not on purpose.” Monét began to cross the room, to join Asia on her bed. “Anyone can see the way that she looks at you, like you actually put the stars in the sky, just for her.”

“You think I don’t know how much my girlfriend cares about me? You think I don’t know that she feels bad about what happened. You didn’t have to watch the tears streaming down her face, while she apologized for what she did. I know that she’s sorry, but she went behind my back and betrayed my trust, I can’t just forgive her for that.“ Asia could feel all the emotions that she had been trying to keep at bay, bubbling to the top, ready to explode. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Look girl, I am just done with today okay? I’m pissed that YOU gave Kameron those sketches in the first place, what you were thinking is beyond me. I’m torn between being mad at Kameron for going behind my back, and touched that she went through all the effort for me. And most of all I’m hurting cause the one person that I want to share my feelings with so I can figure this out, is the person that is causing all these feelings in the first place.” Asia finally lost her will to keep her emotions at bay and buried her face into her hands, as tears began to roll down her cheeks. Suddenly there was a weight on the bed, and arms wrapped around Asia’s shoulders.

“It’ll all work out, sweetheart. You just need to give yourself some time.” As she looked up Asia realized that Nina was the one sitting next to her. Nina must have realized Asia’s confusion, and quickly added, “ Sorry, I heard the yelling and came to make sure that you two weren’t trying to kill each other. When I saw you crying I just couldn’t leave you without giving you a hug.”

“Thank you, Nina.” Asia sniffled. How the hell Monét ended up with someone as sweet and compassionate as Nina was still beyond Asia.

“Are you going to be alright?” Nina questioned.

“Ya I’ll be fine, go enjoy the rest of the night with your girl.” Asia leaned back against her pillows wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, before picking her book back up.

———

“Twenty minutes late, not bad Vanj.” Kameron held out the iced coffee in her hand to the shorter Latina girl sluggishly making her way in Kameron’s direction.

“I told your ass last night I was going to be late this morning.” Vanjie grabbed the coffee, lifting her sunglasses slightly and wincing at the brightness of the sun.

“Well, I figured since you were partying, with Silky and Akeria I’d be finding someone to cover your morning class or cancelling it.” Kameron could only giggle at the look that Vanjie was now giving her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.“

“Yeah well when your girl, text you for a booty call cause she knows your ass has work in the morning, you don’t party that hard.”

“Oh, so I have your girlfriend to thank for you only being 20 minutes late today.” Kameron snickered.

“Well I’d have been earlier, but I had to repay her for last night, this morning.” Vanjie winked.

“Okay gross, I really don’t want to hear about your weird, kinky sex life.” Kameron fake shuddered and made a face in disgust.

“Whatever hoe, I know you got a secret freaky side, I’m sure you only bring out for Asia.” Vanjie laughed, wiggling her eyebrows and shoving Kameron’s shoulder.

“My sex life is none of your business. Can we please just go to work?” Kameron asked, opening the door and motioning for Vanjie to enter.

By this point Kameron had almost forgotten about the fight she had had with Asia the night before, that was until Vanjie began steering them towards the front of the complex. They were walking arms locked like they normally did, Vanjie’s tiny legs pulling Kameron along, when suddenly Kameron saw Asia and instead of lighting up with a smile the way she normally would, she froze in place with a sense of dread running over her.

Everything that had happened the night before flooded her mind and instantly a look of fear and worry painted themselves on her face. The sudden stop, made Vanessa do a 180-degree spin on one foot.

"Why the hell, you…” Vanjie suddenly noticed that Kameron looked spooked, and stopped herself from giving Kameron shit for almost ripping her arm out of the socket. “ Wow Kam, what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

"I can’t go upfront today Vanj. Can we just go to the gym?” Kam asked in a soft and shaky voice.

“Uuhh, yeah. But do you mind maybe explaining to me, why you don’t want to go and see your girl, like every other day. And lookin like death is waitin for you up there?”

Kameron could only stand there and stare at Asia from the shadows and pray that Asia couldn’t see them. When Vanjie realized who Kameron was staring at things began to make a little more sense.

"So like, did you guys fight or something?” The shorter girl asked, when Kameron hadn’t spoken. Nodding her head was the only answer that Kameron could give, words utterly failing her. “Did she hurt you? Cause I will kick her ass if she broke your heart.”

Kameron scoffed, and shook her head no in response. “No, I broke my own heart.”

“Why don’t we go to the gym babe and you can tell me what happened.” Vanjie wrapped her arm around Kameron and slowly began to direct them towards the safety of the gym. Somewhere that Asia would never go if it wasn’t to see Kameron, somewhere that she knew the weeping redheaded girl would feel safe.

It took Vanjie and the other girls who worked at the gym a while to calm Kameron down enough, for her to be able to fully explain the situation. Thankfully, the gym didn’t open for a while, so they had time to spare.

“I was so stupid.” Kameron sniffled as Plastique handed her a kleenex from the desk.

“Babe, you ain’t stupid for wanting to show your girl some love.” Vanjie wrapped her arm around Kameron’s shoulders reassuringly. “ Look I do stupid shit all the time that pisses Brooke off.”

“That’s cause you’re an idiot, who never learns.” Yvie chimed in.

“I can’t help it, I’m a hopeless romantic, but no one asked you anyways, Yvie. You don’t even work here, so why are you here?” Vanjie sassed.

“I happened to be dropping off Scar, when I saw you bring in Kameron and thought that I’d stay to see what the tears were about.”

“She’s so caring about other people.” Scarlet beamed.

“I’d say it’s more like being nosy, than caring.” Vanjie rolled her eyes in Yvie’s direction.

“Guys, can we please focus.” Plastique urged, motioning towards a sobbing Kameron.

“Yeah, Yvie don’t you have better places to be? Can’t you see we trying to help our girl, who’s in emotional distress.” Vanjie questioned, her patience wearing thin her attitude making itself known.

“Nope. Think I’ll stay right here and help you find a way for Kameron to get Asia back.” Yvie sneered, making Vanjie’s back straighten like she was getting primed for a fight.

Plastique could feel the tension and knew that she needed to step in and change the subject. Something that Kameron would have normally done, but was currently in no state to have to deal with. “So I was thinking that it would be so romantic if maybe you just filled the info desk with flowers.”

“Oh my God! Yeah, and heart balloons!” Scarlet added, a bright beaming smile lighting up her face.

“What’cha ya think, pretty romantic right, mami?” Vanjie asked, making sure that her friend was still present in their current conversation and not just wallowing in self-pity. Kameron nodded her head and seemed to perk up a little bit.

“You could even get a banner made that says Sorry I’m an idiot,” Yvie threw in, for good measure knowing that Vanjie was already about to snap.

Vanjie did her best to ignore all of Yvie’s comments, and focus her attention on her friend who needed her the most right now. “Don’t listen to her Kam, she wouldn’t know romance if it hit her in the face.” Vanjie squeezed Kameron reassuringly, whispering in her ear, “plus she’s dating Scarlet, which is basically like dating your dog.”

Kameron went from sobbing to laughing, but the noises that she was making hadn’t really changed, but the smile on her face let Vanjie know different.

“Nah, too many people with allergies around here. Plus how the hell you going to get into the complex when Asia the one that opens the doors every morning? I say ya rent an orchestra to stand outside her apartment building and play Love me Anyways by Pink,” Vanjie announced. “Or maybe ‘Please Forgive Me’ by Bryan Adams would be better.”

“Yeah I’m so sure that working here, Kameron makes enough money to rent an orchestra, or fill the front lobby with flowers and balloons.” snided Yvie, rolling her eyes at the outlandish suggestions. “Not that they weren’t thoughtful ideas.” Yvie quickly added, seeing that Scarlet had started to pout, which quickly put a smile on the girl’s face.

“Okay, I have seriously had enough of you and your mouth!” Vanjie was promptly standing next to Kameron, making her way towards Yvie.

Kameron instantaneously was on her feet, putting a hand on Vanjie’s chest to hold her back, ”Sit down, NOW!” Kameron had heard enough of their ridiculous suggestions, and bickering. Vanjie slowly sat back down in her chair. “I DO NOT want to sit here and listen to you bicker like children. So if you don’t have something constructive to say, KEEP YOUR DAMN MOUTH SHUT!” Kameron yelled, anger burning in her eyes, hand balled into a fist at her side.

Without thinking the words, just escaped Vanjie’s mouth ‘Damn Asia was right when she said it’s hot when Kam gets angry.” Instantly her hand flew up to cover her mouth, as Kameron whipped around, eyes wide before glaring death beams at the loud-mouthed girl.

“Good job, Vanjie. Way to piss off Kameron when she needs us the most. Couldn’t just keep your mouth shut and your legs closed for once.” Plastique playfully remarked. “You still got a boner for Kam or something?”

“Shut your whore mouth, Plastique!” the small Latina girl erupted. “The only feelings I have for Kameron are friend related! How dare you try to insin-u-ate that I ain’t faithful.”

Kameron was already at her limit and didn’t want to sit here and listen to anymore of this stupidity. She needed some air and maybe a cigarette. God, why did I have to quit smoking? She thought, taking one last look around at her friends, arguing like children, “God, you’re all useless.” she breathed under her breath, then stormed out of the gym, leaving everyone confused.

“Geez, what’s her problem?” Scarlet wondered. “We were trying to help her and she just stormed off for like no reason. Seems pretty rude if you ask me.”

Everyone just stared at the appropriately named scarlet haired girl, who seemed completely clueless as to what just happened. “I’ll explain it to you later babe,” Yvie said, kissing the top of Scarlet’s head.

—————–

Kameron took the last inhale of a cigarette she had bummed off someone walking by, relishing in the familiar sting. She let out a dry cough before putting the butt out on the brick wall she was leaning against. She was trying to calm her nerves after having to sit and listen to those idiots, when she heard a familiar voice.

"I thought you quit smoking cigarettes?” The voice came from a lean blonde walking up holding a gym bag on one shoulder and pulling her sunglasses down with the other. She stepped off the pavement and into the shade of the building.

Kameron quickly recognized her old friend. “And I thought that getting up before noon was against everything you stand for?” She couldn’t stop the half-smile that pulled at her mouth. She straightened up to greet Nicky with some more enthusiasm.

The blonde pouted in vague disgust. “Yeah well when two of your co-workers start fucking like rabbits and decide to go on vacation, you get scheduled to do the early shifts.” She rolled her eyes.

“Welcome to the adult world of having to get up early and be responsible.” Sarcasm dripped from Kameron’s every word.

“WOW!“ Nicky’s eyes widened in faux-shock, her free hand going to her chest. "Since when have you been such a bitch?” She demanded with a smirk

Kameron let out a deep sigh and rubbed her forehead, hoping to smooth out some of the stress-creases. “Look, the past twenty-four hours have been shit, and my…” She stated pointing towards the building behind her “loving, yet useless coworkers-slash-friends haven’t made things any easier.” She barely paused before grunting and declaring “God I need another cigarette.”

As Kameron stood leaning with her head back in what seemed utter defeat, Nicky saw for the first time how tired and stressed Kam really looked. She could only imagine what had happened to make the normally perky and happy girl look so worn down.

This was not her friend.

Nicky took on a more serious tone. “Okay first of all, does Asia know you’re smoking again?”

Kameron scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t matter anyway!” Her tone was worryingly dry, prompting another cough.. “Since I fucked everything up, and those idiots can only think of the most useless rom-com ways to try and fix it.”

Nicky slung her bag off her shoulder and approached the wall Kameron had gone back to leaning on. “Woah woah woah hold up. Start from the beginning and explain to me, how you of all people, could fuck anything up with Asia.” Nicky gave a slight shake of her head. “The girl worships you – all you have to do is make puppy dog eyes at her and you get literally anything that you want.”

“Yeah well when you go behind your girlfriends back and have her roommate steal her sketches so that you can show them to her idol, thinking that it might change her mind to magically enter some contest that she had told you like a hundred times that she didn’t want to enter. All because I thought that I was being sweet and supportive and pushing her outside her boundaries, the way she does for me…” Kameron dragged her fingers through her hair, getting snagged on tangles. “It kinda fucks things up."

Nicky let a beat pass to make sure Kameron was done talking. “That is quite the story.” She nodded before taking a deep breath, ”But do you want to know what I got from all that?”

Kameron only shrugged, unsure of what else she could do at this point.

“You care enough about Asia to want to do something above and beyond for her,” Nicky said. “And if you’re willing to do that for her, then you’re not just going to sit on your ass and mope around, waiting for her to forgive you. Plus what are you going to do if Asia decides to come and talk to you?”

“Asia won’t come and talk to me right now, especially if she’s still mad. We also know when to give each other space to cool off, though we’ve never had a fight this big before, so I’m not sure how much space we’ll be needing. But you’re right, I’m not just going to sit on my perfectly toned ass and wait for Asia to forgive me..” perking up, Kameron stood a little taller. “I’m going to make sure she knows just how important she is to me.”

“Of course I’m right, but good for you girl." Nicky was suddenly shoved by her shoulder. “Now the question is, what are you going to do to get her back?”

“That’s a good question.” Kameron suddenly deflated a little, remembering that she still had no idea what she was going to do to prove to Asia how sorry she really was.

Nicky grabbed Kameron’s hand and squeezed, “Don’t worry babe. I’ve got you. So this is what you’re going to do if you want to prove that you’ll never make the same mistake again….”

———–

It was finally time for Asia to take her lunch break. Something she normally would have looked forward to, as Kameron normally took her break at the same time so they could eat together. It was strange sitting in the back office alone. The silence almost too much for Asia to handle. The constant ticking of the clock on the wall, reminding her of every minute that had gone by that day without seeing Kameron. It made her wonder how much longer she would have to go before she got to see her again, speak to her. Apologize for the things she had said. She didn’t mean to take things so far, she was just taken off guard and was already stressed about making her piece look perfect for Binaca. Asia knew that Kameron and her needed space to figure things out, she just hoped that Kameron wasn’t so upset that she never wanted to see or speak to her again.

Asia had been sitting at the table staring at her untouched food, having lost her appetite sometime ago. Her stomach doing somersaults at the thought of losing Kameron. Thoughts that were all so new and scary. Feelings Asia had never experienced over anyone before. She decided that since she wasn’t going to eat and needed to break the silence she would call one of her friends. Without thinking she picked up her phone, went through her contacts and hit the call button. It rang 3 times before there was an answer.

“Hey, girl.” Jaida’s voice was slightly more upbeat than Asia was used too.

“Hey, how are you? Anything new happening?” Asia tried to play off the call, like it wasn’t completely strange for her to call her friend in the middle of the day.

“What’s wrong?” was Jaida’s only response.

“How do you know that anything is wrong?” Asia asked

“Look, you know as well as I do that you did not call me on, I’m guessing your lunch break, to ask me about my life. Now tell me what’s wrong?”

“So Kameron and me got into a fight last night. Like a really big fight.” Asia let out a sigh.

“Uh Huh.” was all Jaida said waiting for Asia to continue.

“And like, I said some things that I really didn’t mean cause I was mad and hurt and lashing out. I really wanted to tell her how sorry I am today, but I haven’t seen her yet and I’m scared that she hates me now. I want to give her space but I also want to apologize to her and text message just seems like it’s not good enough for this kind of situation.” Asia’s words spilled out like an emotional dam breaking open.

“Uh Huh. So you were an idiot with your head up your ass, when all your girlfriend was trying to do was help and support you and now you could be losing the best thing that ever happened to you? Is that correct?” Jaida asked.

Asia blinked. “How did you get that from what I said?”

“First of all, answer the question.” Asia muttered a yes before Jaida continued. “Second, Monét called me earlier to give me a heads up about the situation at hand. I guess she figured you might call me to try and figure out how to fix this little mess.”

“I’m so glad that my roommate has a habit of going behind my back.” Asia snarled.

“Don’t be getting mad at Monét for trying to be a good friend. I know you hate it when people get involved in your personal life, but sometimes it’s for the best. So pull your head out your ass and take the support and help that people are trying to give you. Stop trying to do everything on your own.” Jaida snapped.

“Yeah I know that maybe I can be a little bit overly independent, but–”

“No buts!” Jaida interjected. “You gotta learn to take help, even if you’re not asking for it. Which reminds me. Monét also said that Bianca gave you her business card.” Jaida’s voice morphed from stern concerned mom to excited teenager.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m going to call her.” Asia sounded defeated. “I already told her that I wanted to put out a line of my own without havin’ to work under anyone.”

Jaida rolled her eyes, even though she knew Asia couldn’t see her, “Child, what did I just get done telling you about gettin’ your head out your ass and taking help when it’s offered. When do you think you will ever get another opportunity like this again? You think THE Bianca del Rio is just going to wait for YOU to decide that YOU’RE ready to work with her? NO!!!”

Asia had to take the phone away from her ear for fear of going deaf, “Okay okay, I get it alright. I’ll call her when I’m done with work. I promise..”

“Child you better. Or I’ll have to drive two hours to come whoop your ass.” Jaida’s normal attitude had returned. Asia could almost see every action that went along with Jaida’s voice. She snickered under her breath

“Calling Bianca isn’t going to fix things with Kameron though,” Asia’s voice wavered. Jaida could almost see Asia nervously fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“Look I understand wanting to give Kam some space at this point, but the only way to fix this is to talk to her. You’re going to have to talk to her at some point.”

“I hate to say this, but I know you’re right..” Asia sighed deeply, the admission almost painful. ”It’s just I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and that shit scares the hell out of me. Saying I’m sorry just doesn’t feel like enough,.” Asia let out heaving breath, her feelings truly getting the best of her. She never knew how draining all of these emotions could be, until she was forced to confront them head-on. Asia was finally getting a taste of what it must be like everytime Kameron had even the smallest of anxiety attacks. The older girl made a mental note to tell Kameron that she really understands what she goes through now.

“I know that this is some scary shit, but telling her that you’re sorry really is a good place to start.” Jaida was silent for a moment before adding, ”Maybe get her talking to you again before you just throw all of these extra feelings at her. Chiiiild, Lord knows how easily Kameron gets overwhelmed.”

“So I guess I should just text her and see if she’s even willing to talk to me first?” Asia asked, already knowing the answer. She said it more to hear Jaida’s reassuring “mmhmm” that she was making the right decision.

“Okay well, I’ll call you later and let you know how things go. Thanks for everything Jade, sometimes I just need a good kick in the ass, you know..”

“Sis, I’m only too happy to be of service.” Jaida snickered before saying her final goodbyes and hanging up.

Asia was left staring at her phone. She opened up her text messages and tapped on Kameron’s name. The last messages they had sent to each other were from before the sewing class the night before.. They seemed so insignificant now. Kam asked if Asia had wanted to stop for fries on their way to the class and that she would be there shortly to pick her up. They were things that Asia had never known she would want someone to text her now so badly.

As she stared at the blank message box, the text cursor flashing at her, almost mocking her and her inability to think of what to type. Finally, she wrote the only words that would come to her mind and hit send before second-guessing herself.

12:34pm Hey

12:35pm can we talk?

#rpdr fanfiction #asia x kameron #kameron michaels #asia o'hara #blair st clair #monet x change #nina west #vanessa vanjie mateo #plastique tiara #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #nicky doll #jaida essence hall #angst #humor #lesbian au #stitch us back together #crazy4kameron

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ghost-nabbers-imagines · 6 years ago

Text

First I love you: Sal x reader

~his POV~

I stared in my bathroom mirror a funny feeling in my chest. I've had the feeling that I love (y/n) for a couple weeks now but hadn't been ready to say it. But every time I see their smile, or hear their laugh, or when we head bang with Larry I felt it in my chest. And every time we kiss? It was like my slowly beating heart stopped.

Today would be the real test though. It would determine whether or not this relationship would continue, whether I would marry them someday as I secretly hoped or break both of our hearts and leave. I had invited (y/n) over for a jam session and a sleep over with Larry which occurred often with the three us being so close, but that's not all I had planned. Today would be the day I fully take off my mask and show (y/n) my face.

Although we've been dating for a couple months I've been very cautious about them seeing my face. I've only ever lifted the bottom enough to kiss (y/n), and I always made sure the room was dark or that it was quick enough that they hadn't seen very much. But today I'm gonna change that.

"You can do this. They won't leave. They're not like everyone back in New Jersey." I repeated trying to reassure myself. I felt so nervous boy my heart must be going a million miles a minute. My phone buzzes next to me so I pick it up to see a message from Larry. 'You've got this little man! Don't listen to those voices in your head!' I couldn't help but smile shaking my head at my goofy best friend trying to hype me up.

I returned my stare to the mirror feeling the familiar feeling of self hatred boiling in my chest. I moved one of my cold hands up to trace a particularly deep and jagged scar. "This is pointless. She could never love a monster like me." I sighed putting the prosthetic back on.

While I called it my prosthetic it was really just a mask. A mask I used to hide away from the cruel world. I'd put up my mask and with it came a wall. A wall that separated me from pain, sorrow, and torment. I was safe behind it. It protected me.

With one last look in the mirror I decided I was ready. I grabbed my bag from my bed and pet Gizmo goodnight before making my way down to Larry's room. I opened the door to see my two favorite people already dancing or rather head banging. They both looked so happy and in the moment. Moments like this with my two favorite people were my favorite kinds of days.

I couldn't help the small but weak smile that appeared on my scarred face. "Babe you're here!" (Y/n) cheered dancing over to me. I sat down my bag as they took my hands and pulled me into the small mosh pit. The three of us smiled as we thrashed around to the music. This continues on for a few more songs till Larry eventually turned it down flopping himself down onto a beanbag chair. I copied his actions with (Y/n) just sitting on my lap. Which honestly made me blush hard. Luckily they couldn't see that.

(Y/n) was dressed in pajama pants with an oversized band tee that used to belong to Larry. They had their head tiredly leaned against my hoodie covered body. "Sal dude (y/n) totally rocks. Glad you're with them instead of some fuckin poser." Larry chuckled. (Y/n) blushed letting out a small giggle hiding their face my hoodie. Larry's eyes met mine and he tried to signal for me to get on with it. 'Do it dude' he mouthed. I shook my head lightly pulling (y/n) up so we were both standing. "I'm gonna go get changed into my pajamas." I mumbled excusing myself quickly.

~your POV~

Sal had ran out of the room so quickly. What happened? I turned to look at Larry confused. "You should go check on him." Larry suggested winking. Although confused my worry towards my boyfriend was too strong so I walked out of the metal head's bedroom. I walked out and made my way to the bathroom where I could hear Sal mumbling to himself. I stood in the doorway listening to what he was saying. "You're such an ugly monster how could she ever love you?" He spat his voice riddled with pain.

Confused I crooked my head to see that he had his mask off and was talking to the mirror. Sal was saying all those things to himself? I was not only hurt but confused. How could my sweet, caring, see the best in everyone Sal Fisher hate himself so much? Sal glared at his reflection with such hatred. "Nothing but an unloveable freak." He spat his voice cracking. I watched as his body began to shake with sobs. Small sniffles and sobs started to escape from him.

I couldn't stand back and watch anymore I pushed myself all the way into the bathroom. I clearly surprised him when I wrapped my arms around his body making him jump slightly. "(Y/n) wh-what are you doing here? I don't want you seeing me like this." He sniffled hiding his face. I gently turned him around engulfing him in a hug. After a few moments he pulled away enough for me to get a view of his scarred face.

I smiled warmly tracing his cheek with my hand. My eyes welled up with tears as I thought about how beautiful he was. Sure his face was horribly broken and missing skin in some parts like around his top lip, and he had a glass eye, and his nose was missing the very tip but all I saw was my beautiful Sal. "Oh Sal you're-" before I could get another word in he interrupted. "Disgusting I know. I understand if things are over now. Or if you'd rather date someone like Larry. You guys are close and his face isn't fucked up. I won't stand in the way of you being happy." Sal rambled still crying. "Sal Fisher calm down. First of all I have no interest in dating Larry. He's a great friend. Like a brother to me even but he's not the one I want to be with. You and this beautiful, beautiful face of yours are who I'd love to spend my life with." I smiled using the pad of my thumb to wipe away some of his tears.

"B-but my face it's-" before he even finished his sentence I quickly pressed my lips against his. "A face I would love to look at for the rest of my life. I love that face Sal." I confirmed. Sal was clearly taken back, he blinked a few times taking in my words. The next thing I knew he pulled me closer and passionately pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was sweet filled with love and desire. When he pulled away Sal was staring into my eyes. "I love you." He breathed feeling a weight lift from his fragile shoulders. "Oh Sal I love you too!" I laughed wrapping my arms around him. Sal may not be the strongest man but he lifted me slightly off the ground holding me tightly. "I love you so much." Sal kept repeating. The pain In his voice had been replaced by happiness.

"Let's go back to Larry I'm sure he thinks we're doing something inappropriate." I giggled as Sal sat me down. The two of us returned to bedroom Sal just sticking his mask in his bag. Seeing the way Sal had taken down his walls around us made both Larry and myself quite happy.

"Told ya they wouldn't run little man, loves ya too much." Larry said with a small laugh as the two of us returned to our seat. "You were right." Sal said holding me tightly. Larry stared at us for a moment before reaching up and grabbing his sketch book. "Stay still love birds." He mumbled putting the pencil to the page.

We made quiet conversation as Larry focused on his sketch. I couldn't help but notice that he kept blowing hair away from his focusing face. "Here hold on a second Larry." I said crawling off of Sal's lap. I stood behind the long haired metal head gathering his hair up. Sliding a hair tie from my arm (if your hairs not long enough they’re for Sal's hair) I pulled his hair into a semi messy ponytail. Another thing that happened quite frequently between the three of us was me doing the guys hair.

"Thanks dude." He smiled continuing his drawing while I returned to Sal's lap. The three of us stayed in these positions till Larry was done. "Finished." He smiled setting the pencil aside. Sal and I walked over to his sides admiring the portrait. "It's beautiful Larry!!" I cheered hugging our tall friend.

"(Y/n)'s right dude another masterpiece." Sal boasted patting Larry's shoulder. "I don't know I think my lines are too heavy, maybe if I'd-" "Larry its awesome! You're really talented!" I tried to assure the self conscious artist. Larry smiled a small blush on his face. He was always so nervous showing people his art. "Can I have this one?" Sal asked suddenly. Larry just shrugged pulling the page from the book.

"Just promise me you won't jerk off to it." He teased handing the paper to the blue haired boy. Sal shook his head embarrassed before placing the page carefully in his bag. Larry slid over in the bean bag allowing both Sal and I to sit down with him. Sal sat between the two of us looking quite happy.

#sally face x reader #sally face imagines #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson #sanitys fall

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jflashandclash · 6 years ago

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Tales from Mount Othrys

Say “NO” to Cruise Ships IV

Axel lunged.

As he suspected, Julian deflected Axel’s sword with ease. What Axel didn’t expect was how quickly the javelin tip redirected to his chest.

The sharpened gold jammed into Axel’s leather armor.

His little brother screamed somewhere nearby.

Axel didn’t feel pain as the muscles in Julian’s arm tensed. Axel stumbled backwards, almost slipping on the mounds of dust.

Five seconds and you were almost skewered. Exactly how I wanted this fight to start, Axel thought.

He retreated. His heartbeat thudded when he saw the javelin slide out of his armor. There was no blood on the tip. That had been too close. Reflexively, he grabbed the empty hole with his hand.

He needed to close the distance between he and the praetor. When Lapis, his little sister, had beat the snot out of Ajax in Soulcalibur, the range of a weapon mattered. Julian’s weapon was long-range. Axel needed to get close to level the playing field.

Unfortunately, every muscle in his body said to stay far away and have a nice chat from opposite sides of the cage, maybe about how he’d whip his little brother if he lived through this.

Julian warily examined the tip of his javelin. “Tyche doesn’t favor me,” he muttered. “You really aren’t a demigod.” His gaze shifted upward, flicking around the different weapons dangling above them.

Axel didn’t know why Julian seemed to think he needed a different one, but Axel took the distraction.

Ignoring his mounting panic and the way his head thundered with his pulse, Axel dashed forward. His foot dug into the wood of the stage. The screams of the crowd faded into a din. All he had to do was shove the javelin out of the way. Then he could close the distance and—

Axel positioned his sword in front of him.

The leather hilt vibrated under his grip. It should have cued him in that something was wrong, but Julian’s movement was so fast that Axel didn’t see the maneuver. One moment, he was raising his sword to close the distance. The next, Julian must have batted the tip of his sword away. It was aimed at the floor, exposing him. He could only watch as the tip of Julian’s javelin sank into his dominate forearm.

And did no damage.

Like the bullets had phased through the monsters, the golden metal went in and through Axel like a mirage.

Axel withdrew. His breath switched to pants. He clasped his sword hand with his free one, waiting for blood to gush out or a bone to ache. Had that really happened? There was no blood. No pain.

The screaming of the crowd came back into focus.

Axel felt dizzy.

“What a dodge from the newcomer!” Jack shrieked. Somewhere in Axel’s peripheral, the redhead jumped.

Julian grunted. “Damn it. You appear to have me at quite a disadvantage.” His eyes darted from weapon to weapon dangling above, before settling back on Axel. That gaze dripped of pity. “Double sorry now. I wanted to give you a quick death, but if none of my metal is going to cut you, I’m going to have to beat you to death with the butt of my pilum.”

Beat you to death.

Axel tightened his fingers around the sword hilt. His hand was fine. “None of my metal will cut you.” Focus on that part, would you?

But his brain wouldn’t. His eyes felt moist at the thought of who he’d seen beaten to death. His breath threatened to get out of control.

Axel emitted a growl. No. I’m not going to be a victim. I’m not letting anyone else in my family be a victim.

This sword strategy wasn’t working. Julian was too quick with a pilum and could predict Axel’s sword movements.

There had to be something Axel could do that Julian couldn’t predict, something that Axel was skillful enough to pull off and close the distance. He had been a performer; he could do what he, Ajax, and the Tumbling Six had perfected: tumbling.

Axel let instinct take over.

This was not a game. This was not a performance. That didn’t mean it couldn’t look good.

He sprinted forward, positioning his sword like he had for the last two swipes. As he suspected, Julian repeated his prior process. He parried Axel’s blade and repositioned his javelin so Axel would run right into it. This time, though, Julian waited an extra moment to reposition, as Axel hoped. The metal seemed to do no damage, so Julian needed him closer, to hit him with the wood, two feet further down the javelin.

When Axel felt his sword vibrate with Julian’s parry, Axel let go of the hilt. He leaned forward, dropped, and tucked into a roll past Julian’s legs.

As he also suspected, Julian slammed the wooden shaft of the pilum into Axel’s side. An audible crack shook his body as one of Axel’s ribs broke mid-roll. Calculated risk.

That was his cue that he had rolled close enough, and his cue to where Julian’s weapon was.

Like Axel was reaching for a prop mid-tumble, he shot his hand out. He smashed his palm against the spike in Julian’s calf, imbedding it further.

Julian grunted.

Axel heard Julian thump to one knee at the same time that Axel finished his roll. Now, Axel couldn’t waste his momentum. The next two seconds were vital.

Once Axel’s feet touched the dusty stage, he sprang upward with as much power as he could put into the jump, extending his hands towards the cage’s ceiling to snatch—

Pain flared in Axel’s chest. The way he’d stretched out his torso and gasped—it felt like someone dug a spade into his rib. The world blurred.

No. Focus! He wanted to scream. Focus on the match—not the rib—not the—

His fingers wrapped around the hilt of a dangling dagger. The icy chill of the dagger’s hilt reminded him of what he had to do.

The rope holding the dagger snapped under Axel’s weight.

While coming back down, he twisted, making his side flare white-hot. Each breath felt like he was inhaling flames.

Julian will be prone. Pin him. Dagger to throat. Say you want him as a prisoner of war. You can both live. Figure out escape later.

Julian had partially recovered from the pain in his calf. He had pivoted his pilum so Axel would impale himself upon falling. Axel clasped the wood with his free hand, using the shaft to aim his fall on top of the praetor. Sword fighting? Unfamiliar territory to Axel. Doing acrobats with moving poles and ropes? Routine.

As Axel hoped, he crashed into Julian. Without having his second leg functional for balance, Julian tumbled backwards onto the ground.

Julian released the pilum and flopped onto his back. Axel landed with his knees on either side of the praetor.

Axel tried to jab the blade at Julian’s neck. Before Axel could get the dagger within six inches of Julian’s throat, the praetor grabbed Axel’s wrist. The man’s callused, scarred fingers looked large enough to crush Axel’s whole hand.[1]

Julian reached his other hand down to his leg—

Axel didn’t have time to dodge the spike. Julian withdrew the six-inch black barb from his calf and jabbed towards Axel’s chest.

Axel did all he could: he twisted.

Someone tried to shriek. Had it been him? There wasn’t enough air in his lungs to make the full sound. He couldn’t tell if it was from the burning in his broken ribs, or the new, horrific pain searing his stomach.

The blow had landed.

Whichever it was, Julian’s stab knocked Axel back, far enough that Julian could lift his functional leg and plant a solid foot on Axel’s chest. Like a cartoon, Axel felt himself lift off the ground.

Sound whirred to a hollow squeal. Sight blotched into colorful, brilliant orbs. Any sense of gravity vanished.

Awareness didn’t return until something cold collided with Axel’s back. He clutched it with his hands and slipped his feet against the curves—the bars—the bars of the cage. They must have skidded closer to the cage’s edge, where the dome was lower. Either that or Julian could kick a man ten feet into the air. What had they called him? Son of Mars?

Weakness made all Axel’s limbs tremble, threatening to shake his hold. Each breath was ragged, spiking pain in his ribs and stomach. A throbbing made his ribcage feel like it was cracking more with every movement and like a little piece of his stomach would slither out if left unattended. His head spun. Below, he could see red droplets drip down to splash Julian, who was rising to his feet.

Droplets. Axel’s blood.

The spike could hurt Axel.

Axel didn’t understand the difference between the spike and the pilum, but Julian had a weapon that could kill him.

Axel wanted to touch his stomach, to see what the wound was like, but he feared letting go of one bar would send him tumbling down, where the praetor could slit his throat.

Through a maddening din of noise, Axel could only discern one thing: Ajax, his little brother, shouted at him in a sobbed mix of Spanish, Mayan, and English. “Axel! Axel, you’re awesome! You’re the strongest! You promised you’d protect me and—and--you’re better than this! Are you going to let this coatimundi’s butt break you the way Dad wants to?! I know you’re not!”

The pain dulled alongside the other noises and smells of the stage. A sweat droplet lingered on his lip before slowly cascading down.

Last time Axel broke his ribs—when their papá broke them and Axel’s arm with a cane—Axel had gotten back up without realizing how much pain he was in.

This couldn’t be the end of someone—someone else. If I die, they’ll send Ajax in and Julian will kill him too.

Axel clenched his jaw. He thought about the days after their dad found them, the way Ajax, choking back tears, snuck into Axel’s room with handmade crafts and sketches of their old home and terribly devised jokes, anything that might make Axel smile again. Ajax promised that he’d never stop trying to make him laugh, no matter how bad it got.

Axel would never stop trying to keep Ajax safe, no matter how bad it got.

Julian palmed the spike in his hand. He could barely move on his single functional leg and definitely not quickly. This was someone’s lover, someone’s proud son, an entire troop’s loved leader.

Axel let instinct take over.

There were several weapons dangling from the ropes in front of Axel.

With as much strength as he could muster, Axel lunged off the cage bars. One rope had snapped when he put all his weight on them, but three—

Held. Only one of Axel’s arms would respond. The side with the injured ribs dangled uselessly. He only needed one arm to work.

He swung behind Julian—

—dug his heels into the cage’s bars on the other side, released the ropes—

—and pounced down at Julian’s exposed back. The praetor couldn’t turn fast enough. Axel accepted that Julian would get another stab in. He would have to worry about that later. For now, he had to land on Julian’s back, hoping Julian thought Axel had no apparent weapons—

Axel’s feet smashed into the praetor’s back as his claws dug into the praetor’s shoulders.

All thoughts crashed to a halt when he used the last weapon he had: Axel sank his teeth into the back of the praetor’s neck.

Something popped under his jaw. There was an audible crunch.

Blood went everywhere: up his nose, down his throat, into his eyes. For a moment, that’s all there was. Just the reek of iron and the inability to breath.

Then, they were falling. Something massive smashed Axel into the dusty ground.

Julian wasn’t moving.

Axel choked. He reeled back, trying to disentangle himself from the limp body. Clawing his way out felt hopeless. The thing was too massive, too heavy. One of his arms wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t breathe.

Someone pulled the body back, releasing him.

Axel tried to roll away. Instead, he was on all fours, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the dusty stage. Pain clenched him with each retch of red-tinted bile. It felt like someone was kicking him in the ribs every time he breathed and upchucked. One of his arms wouldn’t move to push him further away from the vomit.

The stage lights felt hot. People were screaming. Cheering? Chanting his name?

Blearily, Axel moved to look around, but his body didn’t want to respond. All he could see was the back of Praetor Julian Kouadio’s mangled skull and brain matter. A man never to return to the arms of his lover. A son never to inspire pride in his parents again. A leader unable to protect his troops.

There was nothing left for Axel to throw up. The pain in his chest was so intense, the world felt light. Had he been stabbed again? How bad was the first wound? He had to get up, to get Ajax out of here, but, he couldn’t feel anything to make his body move, anything but the sensation of sinking his teeth—

Axel hiccupped back his emotions, spiking another wave of pain, nausea, and wooziness. Focus on Ajax. Move.

Someone had knelt down beside him. Some desperate, childish whisper in the back of his mind said, Tío Frasco?

But, Uncle Frasco was like Julian. He would never be there to support his family again.

The person’s laugh was just as infectious and jovial. A caring hand gently took Axel’s chin, raising it. He felt a cloth brush away some of the vomit and blood.

It was that lanky, maniac redhead. Jack dabbed the ends of his shirt against Axel’s face, like a father brushing away stray pudding for a child. “Kid!” he cheered, “I’m going to make you into a star!”

The redhead pulled at one of Axel’s arms. Axel choked back a cry. More pain exploded in his torso. His vision was tunneling. He felt a surge of vertigo when Jack dragged him to his feet for a victory bow. More blood dripped to clot and intermix with the dust of the stage. More screams and cheers.

Then the stage lights vanished. A curtain had dropped and the noises muffled.

When Jack gently lowered him, Axel collapsed back to his knees, then his side. The world fuzzed in and out. His breath was shallow and spittle sputtered down his cheek.

Axel could hear the snap of latex gloves as Jack slipped some on. Jack took a pair of scissor out of a kit on his belt and began to snip away the ends of Axel’s shirt. The whole time, he was still blathering, “—new home! You’re going to do so well here! I’ll make sure of it. It’s going to be so exciting. I’ll make sure you and your little—”

“Ajax,” Axel whispered.

Jack nodded.

Someone stumble-sprinted to Axel’s side. Hands grabbed his. Familiar sobs made his rasps easier. “Axel! You asshole! You weren’t supposed to get injured while being a badass!”

“… wash your mouth out with sand…” Axel said, unable to get all the words out. He tried to give Ajax a comforting smile, but could only repress a scream of pain.

Jack had jerked something from his side.

If Axel could still vomit, he would have. The six-inch spike was slathered in blood. Jack tossed it behind him carelessly.

The panic in his little brother’s hazel and brown eyes made Axel’s condition clear: Axel was dying.

His little brother’s tears felt cool against Axel’s forehead. Ajax must have pulled Axel’s head onto his lap. “You can’t—you can’t go like Uncle Frasco and Aunt Nilley. I—I won’t—I won’t let you. You’re only here because—”

“Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Jack said. The older boy put a comforting hand on Ajax’s shoulder. Then, he reached back for Axel’s torso. “I’m adopting both of you, and I can’t very well adopt a corpse. You see, I just found out—oh, sorry Axel, this is going to hurt a lot. I need to find the tip of the spike before I heal you. It broke off. Anyway, I just found out Flynn and I can’t have children unless we adopt, and you two—”

Axel couldn’t hear the next sentence. Someone had pressed something between his teeth. He wheezed and shrieked into it as Jack must have fished his fingers inside Axel’s stomach wound, like someone was prodding him with heated coils, stretching his skin and organs. Pain made the world go white. There wasn’t enough air.

When Axel could think again, an angelic voice lifted his consciousness to drift in a gentle breeze, easing all of the searing agony. Maybe this was it. Maybe he was losing the fight. But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to leave Ajax. He promised to protect him.

The song cut short. Aches spread through Axel’s stomach. He inhaled, relieved at the agony it brought. Unless death left him with the same pains as life, then he was still here. Axel wasn’t ready for a trip to paradise or Xibalba.

“See! He’s doing just fine. There’s a refreshing breath, right? That should stabilize you, my boy. My boys? Can I call you my boys? Oh! I can’t wait to tell Flynn! We’ll have to get you a room adjourning ours—I’m sure we can make that work. Luke will think it’s a great idea—”

None of that made sense. Axel blinked the crusty tears from his eyes. Above him, his little brother sobbed with a smile.

“Axel, can you speak? Your stomach wounds are closed! It’s—it’s a miracle! This guy just preformed a miracle!”

“I’m whipping you when we get home,” Axel said. This time, there was no pain with the breath, just a dull ache. He flexed his fingers and toes. Everything moved, though not much. He felt like he hadn’t slept in three days.

Jack grinned broadly. “You are home!” His smile fell and he waved a bloody, latex-covered finger in Axel’s face. “But no whipping your little brother. This is a house of God, and I don’t condone that behavior.”

Axel rolled his eyes. “The nuns at our primary school would disagree,” he wheezed.

Ajax choked out a laugh, squeezing Axel’s fingers again. His little brother didn’t seem to realize that Axel definitely meant it: he was going to hurt him when Axel managed to stand again.

“Then they haven’t heard the good word of Kronos!” Jack cheered.

Of course. Not only had Ajax found them a cult. He found them a psychotic religious cult. “Why couldn’t you have just run away to the arcade? Or joined a street gang?” Axel said. He rolled his head away.

On the other side of the cage, the bear-man had lifted the praetor’s body.

Axel’s heartbeat raced. “No!” Although there wasn’t any more pain with his breathes, his voice still came out weak. “Drop him!” Axel rasped, “That’s—Julian is mine!”

That’s all he could think of. Despite that, the bear man pretended not to hear him.

“Hey!” Jack said. The redhead stood and folded his arms. “If my son wants to eat his prey, than he has every right to. You put that body down right this second, Agrius.”

The taste of vomit and blood was still too fresh in Axel’s mouth. Eat his prey. That was exactly what Axel wanted to avoid.

The bear man whirled towards Jack and snarled. He dropped Julian’s body, letting it thump disrespectfully to the ground. Watching the limbs flop without any control was terrifying.

Agrius stormed up to the lanky announcer. The beast towered over him.

Jack’s body began to tremble, but he didn’t back down.

“I just had to let the brats of Poseidon go and that runt of Athena. You’re lucky I don’t eat you!” the bear man yelled.

Jack glared. “Agrius, we talked about this. Remember? You can’t go around threatening to eat every demigod you see. Why don’t we talk about this during our night-time circle ups? We can repeat the calming mantra together. Or do we need to get Luke or Flynn involved?”

The bear man flinched at the last name. He huffed, turned, and stormed off, muttering about “wasted meat.”

Jack relaxed.

Although Agrius was gone, Axel couldn’t get his heart rate to slow.

Axel tried to get up or, at least, to drag himself towards the crumpled heap of Julian’s body. All he accomplished was a grunt of exertion. “Ajax,” Axel said, “Bring me one of Julian’s medals.”

Ajax didn’t ask questions. He nodded his head, brushed some tears and snot off his face, and scurried across the stage.

This wasn’t something Axel wanted his little brother to do—to loot around a corpse. But, Axel could feel a sense of panic mounting in his chest. He didn’t want to kill people the way their father did, like lives meant nothing, like he’d forget about them as soon as the dead person became a name checked off a list.

He wanted some part of the person that Axel could cling to as a memorial; a physical piece that Axel could look at every night and remember Praetor Julian Kouadio of New Rome had a lover named Ari, a mother that had high expectations for him, and a Cohort that Julian cared about. That was all Axel knew about this man and all he could cling to until he delivered the message to the Third Cohort.

Axel swallowed, thinking about what he’d taken from all of those people.

Within a few seconds, Ajax scurried back over, offering Axel a leather crisscross of straps that dangled with at least nine medals.

“Oh! A trophy,” Jack said, kneeling down beside Axel. “I took a trophy from my first kill too.”

The redhead shook his wrist out to show off an intricately braided and knotted metal wire around his wrist.

Axel shook his head. “It’s not a trophy!” he snapped, horrified at the thought. He took the medals from his teary-eyed little brother. The gold felt icy; the leather, rough.

Jack held up his hands. “It’s okay, kid!”

But, what he said wasn’t. Axel’s fingers trembled. One hand clutched the bottom half of the medals to his chest. The other held the top medals up for examination. There was a repoussed bull running on the largest circlet of metal. Julian’s blood speckled the design.

What have I done? Axel thought, trembling.

“I want to remember those that die in order for me to survive,” Axel whispered, his voice threatening to crack.

A sense of instability made Axel dizzy. He and Ajax really weren’t going back to their father’s. He had no idea why there were bear men or snake women here. Some random kid, only a few years Axel’s senior, wanted to “adopt” them and keep them on this cruise ship going God knows where, inhabited by some crazy Kronos cult members that pinned demigods against each other as an initiation ceremony. Their real home wasn’t much better. If anything it was worse, and—if Axel did drag Ajax back—they’d both be whipped and beaten for weeks for running away.

But, Axel couldn’t leave Lapis, Kouta, and Hiro there by themselves.

Tears threatened to choke Axel when he thought about saving all his siblings, dragging them back to their real home with Chiich, their grandmother, and her boyfriend. If they went there, their father would find them and drag them all back to California.

Don’t, Axel scolded himself, You don’t deserve to cry. You couldn’t help when papá took us the first time. You don’t get to cry until you’re strong enough to make sure it never happens again. And you need to take care of Ajax.

Axel clenched his jaw. Right now, he couldn’t do anything to take care of Ajax. All he could do was try to make idle threats to assure Ajax’s safety before he drifted off to sleep. He tried to look fierce as he glared at Jack. “What are you going to do with us?”

Jack grinned. “I’m going to make sure you get cleaned up, rested a little, then the two of you are going to meet your wonderful, new mother, and we’re all going for celebratory donuts!”

A nervous smile crept on Ajax’s face, one that made Axel groan. His little brother was too easily won over with the promise of sweets. Axel, meanwhile, realized something about their presumed new caretaker: this guy was off his rocker.

At the time, there was nothing Axel could do about any of it. Not knowing if they would be safe or bear-man-food when he woke up, Axel drifted out of consciousness.

*******

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! (I’m sorry I’m running so far behind this week T.T It’s been murder—er—but not the Jack or Axel kind—eh whatever. Take it as you will). Stay tuned next week for Flynn’s short: Surprised Parenthood.

*********

footnote:

[1] Mel betanote, “He’s like a kitten fighting a bear.” Jack, “Axel would be SO indignant at this. And then I’d have to pet his ears and coo, ‘it’s okay. One day, you’ll grow up to be a fierce jaguar!’ And then he’d bite me.”

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #fanfiction #PJO #HOO #TFMO #Axel #Julian #Ajax #Jack #Jack dropping inappropriate surprises on his girlfriend #As you'll see later-she doesn't understand why he couldn't have just suggested a dog #for real bro-baby steps

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realityhelixcreates · 6 years ago

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 29: Fear in Finery

Chapters: 29/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), On The Road, Horse With A Side Of Extra Horse, Shut Up Todd, Summary: You're having second thoughts about sitting in a courtroom with a man who tried to murder you, no matter how many gods are between you.

You were absolutely, completely, off your head drunk; a condition for which Loki was solely to blame.

“No work today.” He had said. “We must speak with lawyers, and that is work enough.”

He's been right. You had thought about teasing him for his perceived laziness: imagine calling off all your princely duties, just because you had to talk to someone!

But talking to the lawyers was excruciating. They were frighteningly serious, determined to get every last bit of information out of you, calm, cold, and unsympathetic. They had to be; it was an important part of their job. You didn't blame them for it, but having to re-live the experience two separate times-one for the prosecuting lawyer and another for the defending-was exhausting.

They hadn't let you and Loki be in the same room while they were asking their questions, leaving him irritable, and you an anxiety-riddled mess by the end of it all. The sticky honey buns you had made that morning hadn't stayed with you, and so, after they lawyers had satisfied themselves and left, he had whisked you away to one of the little private dining rooms to the side of the banquet hall, and ordered a lot of food, a lot of drink, and one of Beli's apprentices to provide music.

Loki himself had served you, in a reversal of his usual role. And you had allowed him, and now you were totally drunk.

He'd served you something he called 'crystal mead'; a sparkling, bubbly drink that changed color depending on how the light hit it.

“This is very young.” He had said. “So it should not be too potent for you.” It was so delicious, that you couldn't seem to stop drinking it, and even the food had not saved you from drunkenness.

You swayed to the music, unfamiliar but beautiful, trying to hum along. You thought you were doing pretty well, but Loki snickered every time you tried.

“It appears you have proven me wrong, my dear. Be proud. Precious few have ever done so.”

“Ooohhh, I'm Loki, and I'm soooo smart, and never wrong!” You snarked thoughtlessly. “I'm sooo strong, and soo handsome, and I've got everything under control.”

Loki grinned widely. “Your accent is off. If you are to impersonate me, you will need more practice. Tell me more about how handsome I am.”

“You hush! You know how scared I am? I don't wanna go! I don't wanna see that guy again, and I'm tired of almost dying! Can I stop?”

Loki sighed. “You have my permission to stop almost dying. I...well, I can't say I'm exactly the paragon of not almost dying, but I'll do what I can to keep you from also almost dying.”

“Howwww many times have you almost died?” You asked.

“Eh, three or four times.” He shrugged. “Not that often, in the long run.”

In the long run. In a life of thousands of years, perhaps that wasn't very many. Still, you were pretty sure that Saldis had never almost died, so maybe it was much worse than he was trying to make you believe. To you, it was still an unacceptable number of times. Surely Loki could not be allowed to die before you did. It just didn't seem right.

You patted his hand sloppily. “Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki.” You repeated. “That's way too much. Don't do that any more. You've used up all your turns, so you have to stop.”

“Well, since my Seidkona commands...”

“That's right! I'm Seidkona, so listen to me!...I still don't wanna go. But I'll go. Gotta do the right thing.”

“Well, not always...” He trailed off. “But if you're feeling brave, then yes. Do the right thing. In this case, it seems that duty commands it.”

You started to take another drink, but Loki stole the mead right out of your hands, and replaced it with an apple juice.

“Wha? Hey! Gimmie that back!” You protested. “I'm not done!”

“I'm afraid you are my dear. We can't have you so drunk this early in the day, can we? It's not even dark out yet!” The teasing was heavy in his voice. You crossed your arms and huffed.

“It doesn't get dark anymore!” You grumped. “Night time doesn't exist! The stars are lies, and the moon is a ghost!”

“Poetic, but you still cannot have any more. Here, have some bread instead. This one has that jam you like so much.” He always seemed to make sure that jam was there. You chewed the bread as if you were angry with it.

“I miss Phil.” You mumbled. Loki crooked one perfect eyebrow.

“Who is Phil?”

“My philodendron. He's special. He's as big as me, and he had variegated leaves. That's pretty rare. Normally they're really expensive, but Tara got me a cutting from her aunt, and I raised it...raised it up...I hope he's doing all right...” You choked the words out around the sudden lump in your throat, and Loki went from teasing to concerned in less time than it took to look.

“_____, I-”

You buried your head in your arms and let the tears burst out.

“I haven't talked to Tara in months! I haven't even sent her a letter! I almost got killed, and I didn't even leave her a note to say I was okay! She's my best friend, and I just forgot her!”

“N-now, now, _____,” Loki quickly, giving your back an awkward pat. “I'm sure she understands that your life has taken an unforeseen turn, and that you simply aren't as available-”

“I haven't paid my rent!” You wailed. “They probably sold all my stuff! Or trashed it! My plants! My cookbooks! My sketches! I can't replace them! My plants counted on me, and I abandoned them to go play fairy tale in some mythical world, where it's never night!”

A gesture from Loki sent the minstrel away, leaving just the two of you, you still sobbing onto the table, and Loki at a loss for what to do. Finally, he settled for draping one arm over your shoulders, and letting you decided the level of comfort you wanted.

“If you would like, we can contact your father, to see if he salvaged any of your belongings.” He offered. “If not, I intended to take you into town to get a few things for yourself anyway. We are going to be providing you with a cell phone, so you will be able to contact your friends and family. You haven't abandoned anyone, you've just been temporarily unavailable. Don't fret now, my dear, let all that stress go...”

He let you cry yourself out, offering the occasional coo or murmur of encouragement, and a handkerchief, as soon as you were done. It was, of course, brilliant green, with golden embroidery, and you almost felt bad for utterly wrecking it with your nose. Loki seemed to think it could be salvaged though, tucking it away somewhere in his magic pockets.

“Here, eat your bread now.” He said, pushing the plate at you once again. “And no more mead for a while. We will have to find a formula you can withstand. Your mortal blood is far too thin for our alcoholic accomplishments.”

“Rude.” You muttered, gobbling bread.

*****

“Which do you think?” Loki asked from in front of the full length mirror, holding up two sets of his horns. “The full helmet, or the hollow top?”

“Perhaps we should avoid wearing anything that could be considered martial in nature?” Thor suggested, sounding terribly bored.

“Hm, you think so? Well, I do have a set that more of a coronet-”

“Just braid your hair and be done with it, you insufferable dandy!”

“You can't call me a dandy!” Loki huffed. “You have beads in your beard.”

“They hold the braid in place, and they make me look dashing.” Thor preened.

“They make you look like a barbarian.”

“You are simply envious that I have a beard to put beads in!”

“Oh yes, so greatly do I regret my inability to fully cultivate the 'filthy vagrant' look! Whatever shall I do, with only my impeccable fashion sense to back me up?”

The brothers bickered and debated every thing from armor, to accessories, to footwear, eventually settling down so that Thor could wind green ribbons into his brother's hair.

You had been provided with a weeks worth of dresses, each finer than anything you had ever worn. You had never even imagined your wedding dress-if you ever got to have a wedding-would be of such high quality. Gratifyingly, you could tell that some of them were older, altered pieces, which you tended to prefer for practicality's sake. Even more gratifying: they weren't all green.

You, and Saldis, and Brunnhilde, and Borgliot had all been gathered in the King's chambers very early in the morning-or very late at night, with the sun misbehaving so, it was impossible for you to tell anymore-to prepare for your journey to the city. The king had said that it would take the better part of a day on horseback, and that the trial would likely not last long, as the defendant had pleaded guilty, with no remorse at all for his crimes.

Reservations had been made for a weeks worth of time, and Loki promised you that, whatever moments were spent outside the trial, you could chose to spend however you wished. Saldis would be coming along, for she spoke Icelandic as well as English, and could read it too; she would be there to translate things for you during those times that Loki had to be parted from you, and she was to see to your care and attire. She bubbled with an excitement you thought it was far too early-or late-for, showing you the intricacies of wearing a snake-shaped pen-annular brooch that twisted and turned in your hands like the very reptile it resembled.

“How...again?” You asked, unable for the life of you, to get the long pin in the right place. You'd been gifted a gorgeous deep blue cloak that was sure to keep you warm; Loki had been very solemn and proud to wrap it around your shoulders, but he hadn't bothered showing you how the pin worked when he'd handed it over.

“Just like this, my Seidkona.” Saldis said, fastening the brooch with a quick movement. It looked so simple when she did it.

You sighed. “I feel like a child.” You complained. “Can't even dress myself.”

“High class clothing is complex.” Saldis explained. “Most nobles cannot dress themselves.”

“Besides, you kinda look like a child too.” Brunnhilde said, offhandedly, as she twisted her braided hair into a tidy topknot. “Mortals are all pretty small, but your little body, on that little horse...you're going to look like an elf.” At your crestfallen expression, she hastened to add. “But that's fine. Elves are considered lucky. All of the shorter Asgardians you see have Alfar in their backgrounds.”

All of the shorter Asgardians were still half a foot taller than you. Being short wasn't something you'd ever really noticed, before coming here. Among other humans, height variance felt far less pronounced.

“Methinks thou hast 'hashed it', my general.” Borgljot jested. “Our dear mortal is surely no child.”

You caught her gazing appreciatively at the way the diagonal elements in your clothes flattered your figure, and you grew a little warm. You hadn't been awake long enough to be able to appreciate flirting from anyone, let alone a six-foot-three warrior woman from space.

Brunnhilde nudged her sharply. “Mind your manners.”

“She is not incorrect.” Loki called from near the mirror. “I happen to know that my Seidkona is very much a woman.”

You took in a deep breath, but decided not to tell him off in front of everyone. Later. Borgliot's impudent grin faltered as she glanced from the prince, to you, to Brunnhilde, who simply gave her a very pointed look. Her face fell, and she said nothing else.

Loki came to guide you to the horses, while Saldis gathered your luggage. Thor had convinced him to wear no armor at all; instead he had girded himself in an intricately beaded tunic made of velvet so plush that your hands itched to touch it, and trousers so well-tailored that your eyes simultaneously screamed to keep looking and to turn away. It was practically scandalous, and you were embarrassed by how intriguing you found just this one set of clothes.

Thor was also resplendent in his finery, with his doublet and red cloak, and shining buttons, his ribboned hair an opposite color match for his brother. It was a nice touch, in lieu of crowns.

In fact, the entire entourage was absolutely majestic, and you felt like a dog someone had dressed up in a matching costume. Your clothes were right, but you were out of place.

Maybe it was just the apprehension you still felt towards seeing your would-be murderer again, or towards being in a court of law. Being out among humankind again, knowing that some of them saw you as a traitor to your species.

“Would you like to ride the same horse as before?” Loki asked you, as the stablehands led Leynarodd out to him. You nodded. Technically, that horse deserved justice as well.

A loud and happy whicker caught your attention and you glanced around in search of the animal that could have made the sound.

“Who was that?” You asked. It wasn't Leynarodd, who was contentedly munching the apple Loki had offered her, and it certainly wasn't the shaggy, placid little beast that had been brought to you.

“Oh, that was the other horse I rescued from Ragnarok.” Loki said with a little smile, stroking Leynarodd's broad forehead.

The thumping of hooves grew, odd-sounding, almost like striking iron. The animal that approached was enormous; bigger than Leynarodd, bigger than any horse ever was or could be. He was shining silver-gray, ribbons and bells in his mane and tail. Thor perched atop his back like a scene out of legend, and, if all eight hooves striking the ground with the sound of metal were any indication, that's exactly what this was.

“Is...is that...?” You breathed out in awe. This creature was equal parts beautiful and terrifying, his perfection and wrongness impressed into your mind. It occurred to you that no one had ever said animals could not be gods as well.

“It is.” Loki said proudly. “Saddle up, my dear. Not all of us can keep Sleipnir's speed, and we have a long ride ahead of us.”

You mounted your sweet, small horse, who seemed not at all perturbed by the legendary beasts she was expected to travel with. Perhaps you ought to try to be more like her.

“Can you tell me this girls name?” You asked.

“Believe that one's Acorn.”

“Acorn?” The horse's ears perked, and you hugged her neck. “Oh, that's so cute!”

“And somewhat ironic, considering there are no oak trees here, so she's likely never seen one. Onward! The day is young.”

The procession wended slowly through the streets, the people gathering to solemnly wish you all well. This was not a situation that called for celebration; instead, the people waved squares of gray cloth, and played slow drum beats on the corners.

“It's to symbolize that we are going to a battle who's outcome is uncertain.” Loki explained. “Legal battles should be able to go either way, in the nature of fairness. But we know how this will end, if not all the details.”

The drums faded behind you as you reached the edge of the city, replaced by a slightly different sound; that of chanting. Angry chanting.

Past the gate, past the increased number of einherjar, blocking the road out, was a crowd of people, chanting louder and louder at the approach of your little cavalcade. Most of them were carrying signs, and too many of those had your face on them.

Dread rolled down your bones. Was there any possibility they were there in support? The red slashes you saw through your own face put those hopes to rest.

What had you done to deserve this?

It looked as though Loki was suffering the same treatment, with signs and chants, but aside from a slight scowl, he showed no signs of acknowledging the hostile crowd. Trying to take a page from his book, you turned away from the people, and fixed your eyes on Leynarodd instead.

Beautiful, shining Leynarodd, and her beautiful, statuesque rider. Just stay next to them, and you would be safe.

Someone broke free of the chanting ranks, darted into the procession, and grabbed you by the hand. You turned to look down into possibly the least expected-and least welcome of faces.

“Todd?” You squeaked, disbelieving. He couldn't be here. You didn't want him here! You hadn't seen him in over a year, and there was a good reason for that!

“_____, baby, I'm so glad I found you!” Todd exclaimed, as the horses came to a halt. He gestured at the einherjar currently closing the gate. “These clowns wouldn't let anyone into the city, even though I told them about us.”

You yanked your hand out of his. “There's no us, Todd. What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

The huge head of Sleipnir shoved between the two of you causing the ruckus from the crowd to calm in awe of his presence.

“What the hell? The fuck is wrong with that horse?” Todd nearly shouted.

“He's probably a little peckish.” Thor said dryly. “Oh, you mean the legs, of course you mean the legs, everyone means the legs. It's simple really. It's because he's twice the horse you'll ever be.”

“I...what...” Todd stammered. Loki reached down and placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, either comforting you, or holding you in place so that you could not hop off your little horse and run off with Todd. Little did he know that nothing was further from your mind.

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” Thor said. “I am Thor, king of Asgard, Avenger and defender of Earth. And you are?”

“Uh, Todd Emmerst, sir, your Majesty. Big fan of your work, sir. You see, I've come all the way from Iowa to see _____ again. Now, I don't know the whole story about why she's here, but everyone back home misses her a lot, especially me. I gotta ask; do you really need to keep her? I miss her so much, is there any way you could make it so you could give me my girl back?”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm not your girl, Todd!” You snapped. “The only thing I am of yours is your ex!”

Thor glanced at you, then back. “It appears there is some discrepancy.”

“We had a disagreement.” Todd said. “She was taken away before we got the chance to make up.”

“Did I take you away from him?” Loki asked in a low whisper. “You never mentioned anyone.”

“He's not my boyfriend.” You hissed. “And I never wanted to see him again! He's a total jerk!” He was exactly what you didn't need today, or any day. “Make him go away!”

Loki's prefect eyebrows scaled his forehead. “If my Seidkona commands it.” He said, a wicked grin growing. You barely noticed a little twiddle of his fingers before the crowd started screaming.

With Sleipnir's enormous bulk between you and everything else, you couldn't see what had set them off, but if the shrieks of “Snake!” were any indication, you could certainly guess.

“Everyone get to a safe distance!” Thor shouted, and the crowd obeyed, opening up enough for the procession to pass.

“You know, Brother...” Thor said, when you were all far enough away not to be overheard. “You have been here long enough to be aware that there are no snakes in Iceland.”

“Oh, I am.” Loki said, oh-so smugly proud of himself. “But they clearly aren't.”

“They nearly trampled that man.”

“Oh, that's too bad. Nearly? I shall have to try harder next time.”

“Loki!” Thor scolded.

“I asked him to.” You piped up. “Todd can hold up a debate for hours. He would have tied us up all morning. So I asked him to hurry things along.”

“My Seidkona demanded it of me, and I was helpless under the power of her voice.” Loki said, and your face burned.

“You really dislike him?” Saldis asked. “He seemed pleasant.”

“Oh yeah, he always does when he's in public.” You said hotly. “Then you're left to wonder what happened to that guy when you get home. Why he's like this behind closed doors, why he gets so controlling and insulting when no one else can see him. Or worse, if it's all in your head, if you're really just making it all up, or if it's just you. Yeah, no thanks. Not going back to that.”

“He sounds exceptionally huglausi to me.” Loki huffed. Borgliot murmured her agreement. “And you wanted to scold me.”

“He is behind us now, and will remain that way.” Thor said. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption for the day. We have reservations to meet.”

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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cecilspeaks · 6 years ago

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144 - The Dreamer

It’s turtles all the way down. But man, it’s kittens all the way up.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Our top story today is the PTA bake sale from 4 until 8 PM at Night Vale High School. There will be cakes, pies, cookies and all sorts of desserts available, and the money goes to a great cause: funding for the blood space war. PTA officers Steve Carlsberg, Susan Willman, and Diane Crayton expect this to be the largest bake sale in more than a decade. This is because the City Council, in cooperation with the Sheriff’s Secret Police, in cooperation with a vague, yet menacing government agency, in cooperation with the world government, in cooperation with the lizard people wing of the Bilderburg group, has mandated that all citizens participate in this spring’s PTA bake sale. A group of men in black suits wearing sun glasses and earpieces gathered around City Hall this morning to confirm this. “Perhaps bring some moist blueberry muffins,” one of the mysterious men announced. “Or invisible pie,” said another. “Oh, oh, oh! If you have one of those special pans that makes only brownie edges,” said another. And each of the men squealed and clapped their hands saying: “Yes! Those are the best!”

So head on down to the high school and buy and sell some tasty baked goods for a valiant cause. It’s illegal not to.

In related news, more than 200 soldiers died yesterday in the bloodiest battle yet of the ongoing blood space war. Not all have been identified, but we have learned that Corporal Waymon Davis and Sergeant Yasmine Alfonse, both residents of Night Vale, are believed to be among those killed. Officials from intergalactic military headquarters said no armistice is in sight, as they are not certain who they are fighting, what they are fighting for, and when the fighting is even happening. “Time is super relative, man,” said senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald. “Like prrrrrrr, mind-blowing how some of the people who are fighting this war haven’t even been born yet! My head hurts just thinking about that. Spacetime, can you even believe it, just woooow!” Archibald concluded.

Why are we fighting this war and who is involved, and beyond bake sales and online crowd sourced donations, who is funding this conflict? Over the next few weeks, I will try to do my best to answer some of these questions, but beware that these questions may have no answers. Or worse, have answers that make no sense. Today we will start with what we know. We will start the story of – Eunomia.

Eunomia grew up on a farm. Her parents planted invisible all corn. All day, Eunomia would work the fields. This was the early 1800’s, so there were no gas powered tractors or tillers or combines. Eunomia would plant each invisible corn seed one by one in long rows over several acres. She enjoyed this work, because she loved the fresh air, the insects and the birds, and the dusk, her favorite moment. The stars would come out. During the late summer she would lie down in the corn fields, hidden among the tall invisible stocks of majestic corn. And she thought of all the possible worlds beyond this one. Eventually, her mother would call her home for dinner, and the next day Eunomia would dream about those worlds while culling the ripened corn, anxiously awaiting the disappearance of the sun, so she could comprehend the infinite possibilities of a life that was not this one.

On her 17th birthday, Eunomia went out to the corn field, but never returned. When her parents went to look for her, they found a large perfectly round clearing. There was no corn in this circle, only flat dirt, Eunomia’s packed lunch uneaten, her diary, her tools, and the clothing she had worn that morning, the last time anyone saw her.

In the 1980’s, librarians at the Night Vale Public Library found Eunomia’s diary, which historians had long thought to be either or legend. The librarians said they found it underneath the second floor Dr Pepper machine. A bibliophile or historian must have hidden behind the vending machine, trying to escape hungry librarians, but left the artefact behind when that person either escaped or was eaten. The librarians who found the book placed it on display in a new exhibit called “Early Night Vale Life: Quotidian scrawlings of delicious mortals”. It took many years of armed expeditions into the public library and cost many lives for historians to read this entire diary. But their brave efforts eventually paid off, as most of the diary has been transcribed or photographed. Here are a few sample entries from Eunomia’s journal.

“July 15, 1815. The star I have named Wolfgang has moved from its constellation. I believe it to be an artificial vessel. I shall send it a message somehow.

August 1, 1815. Wolfgang has grown larger and now changes colors. Tonight, it is azure. Last night it was turquoise. I predict it has seen our Earth.

September 4, 1815. Tonight I have carved a message into the corn. It is not in English, but in patterns, concentric circles connected by sharp angular lines. I have carved this message quite large. I do hope it is legible. Tomorrow morning I shall find out.”

And just below this entry, Eunomia has sketched this cornfield pattern into her diary. Her final entry was on September 5. “A man with a mirror for a face has come for me. Does not speak. Farewell.”

More on the story of Eunomia in a moment, but first, breaking news from city hall. Pamela Winchell, the city’s director of emergency press conferences, called an emergency press conference to announce, and I quote, “some crazy black bull blanks going down over here, y’all. Whooollyyy blank,” she added. Winchell was standing near a cornfield on the property of John Peters – you know, the farmer. She was covering her mouth with one hand and pointing with the other while jumping up and down. Winchell said, “Y’all have to see this mess, but also like don’t come aaanywhere near here, no way. But still like, it’s kinda beautiful with all the lights and stuff, you really have to see it but you can’t, don’t. Definitely don’t come out here, nothing to see,” she said firmly, only to continue: “Cooool, oh blank that’s raaaaad.”

City Council quickly ushered Winchell away from the microphone and said that they have formed a secret exploratory committee to investigate the lights coming from John Peters’ land. More on this story as it develops.

For weeks after Eunomia disappeared, townsfolk mourned the loss of a young and vibrant girl. The city declared her dead, and her church held a public funeral service. Her mother spoke about Eunomia’s vivid imagination and penchant for drawing and painting. Her father, through halting sobs, said Eunomia was a smart girl who loved astronomy and physics. The crowd gasped at this. Some of the congregation vocally protested saying: “He should not be accusing the dead of paganism. Eunomia’s father calmed them and said: “Science is not a fringe religion, Eunomia taught me this. She wrote about the movement of stars and planets every day. She dreamed of a time that human beings could leave this gravity and travel into deepest space. I, too, thought science was Satan’s checker board but now, thanks to my dear daughter, I think science is neat.” The congregation grumbled, but ultimately accepted that a grief-stricken parent must be given room for the madness of sorrow.

The people of Night Vale moved forward with their lives. Like all tragic loss, they remembered Eunomia, sometimes even see her, only to realize it was a shadow or a mistake of the mind. They felt sad and empty, but over time the sadness waned and the emptiness filled, as they always do.

Her parents sold the farm and moved into the city. Consciously, they wanted to be closer to their community, but subconsciously they feared having to endure the weight of public empathy, so they mostly stayed indoors. One year after Eunomia’s physical disappearance, the memory of Eunomia had all but disappeared as well. Night Vale was back to normal. No one was thinking about Unomia that day, that anniversary. They were thinking about something else: the visitor.

More on this soon, but first traffic. Christina and Ricardo Alfonse had just exited Route 800 toward Pike Street, when they planned to turn left toward the hospital. Ricardo was driving quickly as Christina was in immense discomfort. She was eight months pregnant when contractions began only half an hour ago. Fearing the complications of an early birth, Christina did not outwardly panic, she inwardly panicked. She grew quiet and still, as her body began to convulse and her guts begun to churn. She turned to her husband and calmly stated: “Ricky, the baby’s coming.” Ricardo, having read nearly a dozen books, including “The Physiology of Pregnancy”, “The Psychology of Infancy”, and “The Anthology of Relevancy”, felt prepared for even this most unexpected of moments. Inwardly, he did not panic. Outwardly, he was a blubbering mess. He rushed his wife into the car and onto the hospital going well over the speed limit, asking Christina if she was remembering to breathe, Christina repeatedly asking Ricardo to slow down and confirmed she was breathing. A minor accident between a top secret military transport truck and a 2011 Honda CRV along Route 800 near Exit 12 had slowed the couple down by a few minutes, and during that traffic jam, Christina turned on the radio to take her mind off her body. She heard a news update about the blood space war and the tragic deaths of two Night Vale soldiers, one of whom was named Yasmine Alfonse. Christina and Ricardo Alfonse knew they were expecting a girl. They knew they would name her Yasmine, because it is a beautiful name. Ricardo laughed at the dark humor of the improbable coincidence, but Christina never laughed nor believed it to be a coincidence. They arrived at the hospital with plenty of time to spare and three hours later their daughter Yasmine was born. Christina had decided to give her a different name, but when the nurse who was filling out the birth certificate asked, Christina said “Yasmine,” as she was unable to say anything else. It was like that moment had already happened and she was only remembering it.

So, expect 15 minute delays on eastbound lanes of Route 800 near Exit 12. This has been traffic.

On the anniversary of Eunomia’s disappearance, an astronaut arrived in Night Vale. The early 19th century villages did not know what an astronaut was. So what they saw was a puffy silver humanoid with a mirror for a face. The astronaut suddenly appeared in the center of town, roughly where the Dog Park is today, and walked silently through the dusty streets. Crowds gathered and followed the stranger, all the while pointing and warmly shouting “Interloper!” in hopes that the frightening figure would show signs of benevolence.

The astronaut, bow-legged and slow, walked without speaking toward the outskirts of town. It took hours, and by the time the visitor stopped, nearly the entire city had followed. There was a greenish aura about the astronaut as they turned to face the gathered mob. The astronaut lifted their gloved hands to their neck and unlatched the helmet. There was a loud hiss and a pop, and the mask lifted. The crowd tentatively approached the stranger, and as the helmet came fully off, the townsfolk cried out in horror. The face of the visitor was nearly skeletal, a rotted corpse, long white hair peeling down the back of the skull, an incomplete set of elongated teeth visible with no lips to hide them, startled eyes ever staring with no lids to express anything else, and what was left of the skin had shriveled and yellowed.

The crowd had begun to step backward, but one woman stepped forward – a tired and pale woman approached the decomposing astronaut and said: “Eunomia?” The astronaut opened her mouth slowly and spoke in a hoarse cough. “Mother,” the astronaut said. Eunomia’s young mother touched her elderly daughter’s face. Unomia broke into dust. And the empty space suit collapsed into the ground.

More news, but first, The weather.

[“The Only Thing” by Ali Holder, http://aliholder.com/]

Dozens of astronauts appeared in Night Vale over the centuries that followed. They still occasionally do, but it has been 36 years since the last appearance. These astronauts are time travelers of sorts. They are Night Vale citizens who fight for humanity in the blood space war, but are returning home to recruit or retire. Those who have returned from battle have told us about Eunomia and her incredible leadership and diplomacy. Her death in the timeline of those fighting his war has get to occur, but in our earthly timeline she died 200 years ago in a cornfield. There is so much more to say about Eunomia and the beginnings of the blood space war, but we cannot cover all that here. It is much too complicated a story. [nervously] Plus, an empty-eyed messenger child from the City Council just showed up in my radio studio to tell me to get to the important news of the day. [gleefully] Thank you, child! Here’s an iPad, go play on Tick Tock and stop staring at me! I’m really creeped out!

[clears throat] The City Council organized a press conference this afternoon, but before it could begin, Pamela Winchell grabbed the microphone from the City Council and shouted: “Surprise emergency press conference! Hey, so a space craft flew down into John Peters’ cornfield, and these beings of astonishing structure emerged with two floating pods, and inside these pods were dead bodies! Ie was sad, but also the bodies looked pretty old, so maybe it was just their time. Sometimes that happens, you know, actually it always happens. No one has ever not died. Anyway, if you lost an elderly friend or relative, maybe come identify the bodies! Sorry for your loss.” Winchell then reached up into her hairline and pulled down a zipper that ran from her head to her waist as she opened herself, a Pamela-shaped cloud drifted up and away over the crowd, a faint voice saying: “Pamela out!” could be heard in the sky.

Several Night Vale residents came to view the bodies. One body was identified as Waymon Davis by his great great grandson Melvin. Melvin brought a daguerreotype photo of Waymon from 1980. In the photo, Waymon was 33 years old. The body Melvin identified looked to be in his sixties, but it was clearly Waymon. Christina Alfonse, holding her newborn baby in her hospital bed, saw the footage on television. When she saw the other body, she saw a woman in her seventies with Yasmine’s eyes, Yasmine’s lips, and even the same thick low forehead. Christina held her baby tight to her chest. “You are a brave woman,” she said to the infant Yasmine as she kissed her tiny cheeks.

Stay tuned next of the sound of an alarm click that cannot be turned off and a dream that cannot be awoken from. Good night, Night Vale,

Good night.

Today’s proverb: Talk to your kids about the birds and the bees. “Never look directly at birds,” you should say to them, “and bees? Don’t get me started.”

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 144 #the dreamer

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shinymixedbag · 7 years ago

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Given chapter 27 summary

I’m back ~ @things-all-love, Thank you SO MUCH for the raws~ ♡＾▽＾♡ ♡＾▽＾♡

I'm not quite sure how to proceed with the summary this time around because this chapter is a beautiful mess of thoughts and feelings and I wish I didn't have to spoil it. 80% of the chapter is 3 characters' thoughts (Mafuyu, Aki, Ugetsu) and it randomly switches from one person to another :/ I apologize in advance for doing a crap job of summarizing such an incredible chapter.

***spoiler alert*** I came across many comments on aggregator websites outright spoiling the story for other readers. Please don't do that without warning :/

Before I begin, Kizu Natsuki Sensei had tweeted that she had an opportunity to talk with Yama-San, the guitarist of the J-Rock band WHITE ASH, shortly before the release of chapter 27. So, as a way of expressing her gratitude, Sensei has sketched him among the audience in this chapter. And that we could try looking for him if we have a lot of free time (LOL) Needless to say, I tried [kind of] and failed.

WHITE ASH ->

They disbanded in 2017 (._.) Yama-san is the one wearing the hat!

Alright then, let's begin :)

Given is on stage and begin their sound check. Akihiko- the drums, go first. The bass, Haruki- follows. There is a palpable nervy tension among the audience and on stage. Take-chan, Shizu, Hiiragi, Itaya, Ueki and Yayoi are all present.

Cover page: "I want to let you know. To those who are beyond this bright light and those who are in its shadow"

Akihiko recalls what happened the day before with Ugetsu. He could not reply immediately when Ugetsu demanded to know if he was going to "abandon the violin". He couldn't deny it on the spot.

After Haruki, is the sound check for the Guitar- Uenoyama, and finally it's done after the vocal- Mafuyu's turn.

Lost in his depressing thoughts, Akihiko drops his drum stick, he looks upset [and a bit unsure?] Haruki picks it up and hits him on the head with it and remarks on his miserable face expression while returning it to him.

[Ugestu needs a haircut.. and some sleep? Also, is that YAMA-SAN behind him?!]

Given is about to start performing. Mafuyu stands facing the audience, holding the mic, obviously nervous. [These few pages really get you pumped] The buzzing crowd noise is replaced by Mafuyu's breathing. He slowly breathes in and out several times. Meanwhile, he's thinking about a lot of things simultaneously (About his feelings, Uenoyama, music, love.. and how to resonate music with emotion.) He starts singing a capella and the band starts playing. The audience are stunned [even Ugetsu] Akihiko is reminded of Ugetsu playing his violin and he lets out a laugh thinking, "wow"

[Ugetsu really needs a haircut but he's still gorgeous damnit!]

Continuing with Mafuyu's thoughts, he wants to convey his feelings because he knows that he might not always be able to. He thinks that "(intertwined) hands will be separated" no matter how much he wishes it wouldn't [The panel shows Yuuki and Mafuyu’s hands, barely touching] He thinks of Yuuki and the feeling like he (Mafuyu) is moving away one step at a time from the past [ie, "Yuuki" is fading] And the fact that a new day will come and he wouldn't be able to return back- he was afraid of.

Akihiko's internal monologue picks up from there. He's got goosebumps and wonders how long it has been since he felt like that, and when had he begun to think that music was a burden, even though he had loved it so much. He thinks that this is exact same feeling he'd had when he first listened to Ugetsu play the violin. And then Akihiko realizes that he does indeed love music

Next, Ugetsu's thoughts as he watches them perform [looking thoroughly blown away] reveals that as he watched Given's first performance, he had a hunch that Akihiko could also improve by leaps and bounds if someone influenced him strongly and he realizes that Haruki is the one who did [influence Akihiko, that is]

Mafuyu's internal monologue [yes, again. 80%, remember?] He thinks once again, about Yuuki and how intertwined hands will be separated, even though he cannot go anywhere and he doesn't want to either, things will change [this line is interesting because the actual word used here can mean "to dawn" or "to end" or "to begin"]

Scene cuts to a conversation between Ugetsu and Mafuyu. Ugetsu tells him that he's often asked himself "What if Akihiko doesn't come back?", yet he's unable to imagine what it would actually be like. But all the same, he wants "this suffering" to end. He's conflicted because he doesn't really want his jam packed room to become empty. He thinks that even if they cannot go back to what they were like, and even if they're far away, it would be okay if music alone remained.

Cut back to Mafuyu's thoughts. While thinking of the people currently in his life, he says that "it's okay", no matter what, dawn will come and it is okay because he can certainly go wherever. Given’s performance thus ends on a powerful note. And when they're done, the audience responds with thunderous applause. Mafuyu says "thank you very much." Ueki and Itaya look stupefied. Hiiragi has his face buried in his hands [and he's shaking] Take-chan is in tears and he cheers loudly, whistling [Take is such an amazing guy :D] The performance is over and the audience is still cheering loudly. Given is getting ready to leave the stage. Akihiko notices Ugetsu leaving and asks Haruki if he could "accompany someone to the station" and promises that he will return immediately. Haruki wishes him a safe trip.

Ugetsu is descending a flight of stairs alone out on the streets and Akihiko rushes after him shouting his name. Ugetsu does not stop and continues walking. Akihiko tells him to wait but Ugetsu cuts him off without turning to look at him, and says "no," "because if I do you're going to talk about breaking up aren't you?" Akihiko is surprised. Ugetsu pauses and tells him that he played the drums well but it was "as delicate as ever" and tries to walk away. Akihiko reaches out, grabs his arm and shouts "listen to me!" Ugetsu stops but does not turn to face him. Akihiko quickly tells him that he loves the violin and he has fun playing drums. And that all the effort he "poured into playing the violin until now" wasn't a lie. Ugetsu looks surprised and asks "what, this isn't about breaking up?" and then understands that it was. Akihiko stares at him, and apologizes to him for "hurting him so much until now" and thanks him. Ugetsu replies after a long pause that he will be cheering for him [I assume he meant the band] Akihiko looks down at their intertwined hands. Ugetsu says, "I get it, so let go of me." Akihiko squeezes his hand tightly for a moment and slowly lets go and turns around, heading back the way he came. Ugetsu finally turns to look at him, tears streaming down his face and sobs as he watches Akihiko's retreating figure and stops himself from calling out when he recalls Mafuyu saying "it's okay" standing in front of the mic. Ugetsu watches Akihiko, looking dazed and says "Bye-bye, Akihiko."

That's it. Chapter 28 will be out on the 30th of November 2018 ^^

Soooooooo...My heart is broken. This is undoubtedly my favourite chapter of Given this year. Mafuyu's thoughts were overwhelming. I know I did a poor job of explaining it, I'm sorry~~!! Aaaaand... As much as I wanted Akihiko and Ugetsu to break up, it still hurt a LOT. I hope this isn't Ugetsu's exit from the story. I'd definitely love to see more of him.

Once again, I'm in awe of Sensei. The attention to detail, oml（￣□￣；） The sound check in the beginning and Mafuyu breathing to calm his nerves had me on the edge of my seat! And every single panel was so beautiful! *sigh* I could go on FOREVER about this chapter!!

Hopefully, the next chapter won't be as depressing and I'd really like to see the boys have some fun and celebrate after all their hard work. We have been stewing in angst ever since chapter 16 came out- on the 30th of November 2016 !! Idk about you, but I'm EXHAUSTED! And now that Akihiko and Ugetsu are over, will Haruhiko happen? IDK, I hope sensei will take her sweet time with ships.

Until next time~

Chapter summaries (14-26) here

P.S. I'd like to apologize to that one anon who shipped Ugetsu with Take, tbh, there's a 99% chance of that ship never sailing but YOU ARE free to ship whomever you like!!! (￣ー￣)ｂ

Also, DID ANYONE MANAGE TO FIND YAMA-SAN?!?

#given #kizu natsuki #chapter summary #spoilers

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lombax-lombardi · 7 years ago

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Protective~

Summary: Sometimes you need someone to protect you, to keep you safe when times get hard. And sometimes that someone is closer then you think.

Genre: Fluff, self insert x canon, slight angst

Based on a lovely piece of art made for me by @xeensbin bless you~

She usually had to fend for herself, in most cases. Against all types of people, even her own family. You name it.

Then one day, during Duelist Kingdom she met the gang. They helped her out of a tricky jam, been friends with them ever since. Luckily she lived in Domino and not far from the school either so even after all the events that passed, she saw them every day.

Every single member of the group were like another piece of family to her.

Yugi was like a brother to her, and by proxy Yami his counterpart was as well. The two of them would do what they could to make her comfortable around them, well mostly Yami. Not everyday you meet an ancient ghost but he seems kind and Yugi would always give her a bright sunny smile every time he saw her.

Tea was like the sister she didn’t really have. Maddi does have an elder sister, named Janelle but with custody issues regarding the student herself, Janelle and her Aunt are always fighting over the young girl. And Tea was an outlet for her to have some girl time. Much needed girl time and of course she was very thankful for that.

Tristan, oh Tristan, was like another older brother, that big brother who would tease you but ultimately be there for you when things got rough. During Duelist Kingdom, her legs would give out sometimes due to the fact she never got much exercise so he would always give her a piggy back rise, much to her dismay. But it was worth it.

Then there was Bakura Ryou. Madilyn only met him a few times and some of those times were with that weird Ring around his neck, much like Yugi’s Puzzle. It also has a spirit in it and he was...not the kindest person ever but she can see that he was good at some point. But Bakura himself was a nice young man, much like Yugi would always give her a smile when he saw her.

And finally there was Joey Wheeler. What to say about him? Well he had an accent which got thick sometimes, a no can do attitude but has a huge heart. A very huge heart. She was surprised at how a street smarts kid had so much kindness. She heard through someone that he used to give Yugi a hard time but he saved him and that single act of courage changed him for the better.

The brunette was sitting at her desk, shuffling her Deck before she was ready to walk home. Well home is a loose term. While the custody battle still droves on between her elder sister and her Aunt, Madilyn had been staying with Yugi and his Grandpa which she was always thankful for.

On the walk home she heard a question from Tea. “You don’t think your Aunt will do something crazy to try and get you back would she?” the other brunette shakes her head.

“No I don’t think so. My Aunt may be controlling yes but, I’m like a piece on a chess board. A very important piece. She can’t afford to lose me so she is just biding her time, waiting for my sister to make a mistake”

“Eh, don’t ya worry ‘bout dat Maddi” the sound of Joey’s drawl caught her attention. “Not when ya got us to keep ya safe” she felt her mouth curl into a smile.

“Hahaha, thank you Joey, and the rest of you guys. You are the best~” she had never felt close to this many people before as her Aunt never left her have much of a social life. This was good.

Yugi smiled. This was really good, her mind was off the things that could happen, the things that haven’t happened yet. It was nice. That’s when he noticed his best friend Joey.

He couldn’t really tell what emotion he was displaying but he could sense something. It made his own heart feel at ease, mostly for her. They arrived at the Game Shop, both residents waved their friends goodbye as young Yugi opened the door for her.

“Aww you are such a gentleman Yugi” Maddi laughed again and he returned with another sunny smile. “I am still grateful for you and your Grandpa Yugi”

“It’s alright, I’d do the same thing for anyone else trust me”

The afternoon continued as normal as Maddi was focusing her attention on other things, to keep her mind off of the things going on in her life. She was mindlessly doodling in her sketch book when her phone next to her started going off.

On the screen it was a message, from Joey asking her how she was really holding up. There is that big heart of his, wondering about her well being. She felt a smile creep on her face as she replied to him.

A few seconds later there was another reply and she sent another back. It went back and fourth for a few minutes or so, well into the night. She was putting herself down to sleep when her phone went off again. She looked again to see one final message.

If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me

She felt her heart swell. He was so so sweet, she thought as she placed her phone on her nightstand, laying her head against her pillow and staring at the roof. Her face turned red, she grabbed her pillow and pressed it against her face.

Silly Maddi! Silly Maddi! When are you ever going to admit that crush you’ve got so bad on him? Knowing herself probably never.

The next few weeks proved hard but stable, with court hearings and restless nights and some threats of kidnappings that Maddi was afraid to sleep at night. Good thing for that the gang, upon hearing this news, all decided to stay at Yugi’s with her to keep her safe.

“You guys don’t have to do this-” her voice got cut off when she saw that Tea pressed a finger against her lips.

“Shush. We are doing this because we care about you, no way is your Aunt going to take you away” she stood there with her hands on her hips, radiating some kind of strong energy. Maddi knew there was no point in arguing when she got like this.

“Fine fine! You win” she threw her hands up in the air, falling on her back in defeat. Tea chuckled. “Oh Maddi enough with being dramatic...now are you sure all the windows and doors are locked?”

“Yes Tea. Now go to sleep you dummy” She launched a pillow at her friends face, who grumbled in response while Maddi headed back upstairs. Tea was preparing her things when she noticed Joey sitting up, staring at the staircase she walked up.

“Joey? Are you okay?”

“Eh? Y-Yeah! Yeah I’m fine” he saw the look she was giving him. A look as if to stay ‘that is a terrible lie Wheeler’.

He sighs.

“I’m really concerned bout her Tea. I have this sinkin’ feelin’ in my gut dat something terrible is gonna happen” He felt her give him a pat on the back. “Then go upstairs and talk to her. Go on! You look sad enough as it is sitting there just get moving”

As if those were the words he was waiting for, the blonde got up and headed upstairs after the other female. He walked down the somewhat small hallway when he stopped.

Crying.

He heard crying.

Oh no!

He opened the door to her room to see her on the mattress, body shaking due to her sobs. She lifted her head at the sound of her door opening, to see a blurry image of Joey standing there, due to her tears.

“Are you okay Maddi?” he knelt down beside her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I....I’m.....” It was hard for her to speak.

“I’m scared Joey...I’m so scared....”

That was it.

That was the breaking point for him.

“Hey....Hey it’s gonna be okay...don’t you worry bout dat...” his tone of voice changed as he brought her into a hug. A very close hug, she could feel him run his fingers through her hair.

“But...”

“Don’t. I’ll protect ya. I promise”

And by his tone, it sounded like he meant it. “You won’t leave right?”

She felt his grip on her grow tighter.

“I won’t.”

#assdfghjjkl'#asdsfjkfkjs #i have feels my dudes #bless xeen #the ending didn't turn out the way it was intended in my head but asdfghjkl #maddi writes

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