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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"The Mantis" Medic/Sniper - Chapter 1

Summary: Ludwig Humboldt, a renowned geneticist with an unconventional understanding of ethics, begins an ambitious project to evolve mankind through genetic modification. With the help of his lab assistant, Mick, he introduces praying mantis DNA into his body, eventually transforming him into a exceptionally powerful and highly intelligent human/mantis hybrid.

This does not come without costs, however, as in time, the cold, efficient ideology of insects – being to survive, thrive and breed – takes over completely. His once noble goal of improving the lives of mankind distorts and twists within his altered mind into something far more sinister...

You can also read the fic on ao3 here

This fic is co-written with Murder_Media on ao3. All chapters from Sniper's POV have been written by them. I have written all of Medic's POV.

All I will say is, monsterfuckers this is for you.

Her prodigious size alone could have easily dwarfed the rest of the collection, but it was her beauty that transformed her into a fearsome, tyrannical queen amongst mere servants. Her emerald skin, complemented by a pleasing cerise blush speckled on her limbs shone as though it had been lovingly polished by dutiful, worshipping hands. Her eyes, marbled with lush greens, followed his own with miniscule pupils imbued with predatory focus, as if she lusted for him with the same lethal passion. He put on his best smile – which was often enough to frighten even the most fearless men – and brazenly reached out to touch, expecting her to cower in fear, but if anything, she doubled down. The praying mantis reared up tall, raising her scythelike forelimbs as her wings opened wide to reveal fine, lacey wings adorned with beautiful vermillion eyes, beckoning and challenging him in one carefully constructed expression.

At his corrupt, rotten age, Ludwig often thought he was incapable of love beyond his unprofessional interest in the human form and all of its gloriously efficient organs but this creature made his heart flutter so violently that it seemed to bleed with love. He felt a sort of kinship with this slave of ruthless instinct and baser desire, one he had never quite experienced with another man. He decided then that she would be his bride, a match made in heaven, or perhaps hell – it did not matter either way to him, for the only smile that he cared for was his own, not those of the gods.

He was not referring to matrimony in the traditional sense, rather, he was intending for a marriage on a genetic level, a fusion of Ludwig’s own DNA with that of this fantastic creature to construct an entirely new being, one that would be knighted with the prestigious title of progress or better yet, evolution . From his stately example, a new species would emerge, irrevocably changing the course of humankind’s history from perniciousness to greatness, until the old, pitiful definition of men fell into obsoleteness.

He would be heralded as a genius, one worthy of being a leader of the scientific community rather than just another dreadfully average pawn. His past work, though many swore on its brilliance, had merely got his foot in the door. This ambitious project, should it succeed, could grant his name the respect and awe it deserved, landing himself alongside the greats and in time, perhaps with a fine vintage in hand, he could bear witness to the fruits of his hard labour; an ideal, utopian world, inspired by his vision.

His assistant let out a wolf whistle, treating their subject as if she were any other pretty thing, yet to realise her true importance. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” He lauded, turning his hand over to demonstrate the fearlessness of the creature hanging from the hands of a figure she would likely consider a god from her small, unknowledgeable eyes.

“She’s perfect.”

“Thank fuck for that, eh?” Mick replied, kicking up more of a huff than he truly meant, as betrayed by the slight but perceptible levity in his tone. “Here I was thinkin’ you’d send me back to the forest again to find ya more bloody bugs.”

His lip twitched in disapproval at Mick’s flippant attitude, but quickly forgave it; he was just a boy, after all. “Can you really blame me for being particular? You are forgetting that it is my body being subjected to this experiment.” He rebutted, raising a brow to his assistant. “We are not toying around with lab rats and bunnies anymore.”

“Right, of course.” He straightened up a bit, his body apologising in the place of words. “I’m glad you like her. I nicked a bunch of pretty sheilas for ya, but I think she might’ve…” Mick crouched down beside Ludwig, looking inside of the makeshift habitat. “Yeah, she’s eaten ‘em, so it’s her or nothin’.”

“Excellent!” He exclaimed with inappropriate enthusiasm. “It saves us from having to pick out the inferior specimens ourselves.”

“Survival of the fittest and all that.” Mick ran a hand through his overgrown hair, picking a stray twig out from his umber locks, the minute tremor in his fingers making the task far more difficult than it should have been. “Do you want to hold her?” Mick outstretched his hand to him and the mantis tensed, ready to strike if he dared to come any nearer.

Ludwig humoured Mick, if only to bite into his boyishness and savour the taste. “Please. It would be a little rude of me to harvest our subject’s DNA without properly meeting her first, don’t you think?”

He encouraged the insect to climb onto the back of his hand and after some protest, she did, curiously crawling all over his arm, her feet sticking to the dark hair. Ludwig pushed up his glasses, getting a better look at her most intricate features – her delicate antennae, the coarse spikes on her raptorials, the leaflike pattern of her tegmina, the softness of her underbelly…

“You made an excellent choice. She is… hah, I don’t even have the English words… Schön, Prächtig, Königlich… And gott, I can’t even begin to imagine the end result!” He grinned, suddenly overexcited, as if a fire had been ignited from under his skin. “We should get to work at once. Prepare her for the procedure, bitte.”

He offered their subject back to Mick, and she scurried back to the safety of his knuckles. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now. We have far too much work to do and to be honest with you, I am much too excited to delay it any longer.”

Mick tried to hide it, but his hesitation was as obvious as the stubble he had neglected to shave this morning. He glanced down at the praying mantis, his downturned lips laden with pity.

“Getting attached already, are we? I thought I taught you better than that.”

“I can’t help it, I’ve always had a soft spot for these little guys.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” He chuckled, finding his sudden softness to be endearing, if not a little aggravating – he did not have the time for this. “You have done far worse before and have never had a problem.” He did not consciously intend for it but his voice fluttered playfully, demeaning the younger man. “What’s the matter with you today, hm? Normally you’re so good for me.”

“Nothin’, it’s just a bit… cruel, isn’t it?”

“I assure you, my dear boy, it’s anything but.” The scientist replied, dismissing his concerns with a casual wave of his hand.

Mick opened his mouth, whether he was about to interject or agree was inconsequential; Ludwig was not yet finished.

“It is relatively quick, and remarkably painless. For a mindless, simple insect, I would go as far as to say she won’t feel a thing.” He licked his lips, detecting the comforting familiarness of those words. Perhaps Mick did too. “Go on, say your goodbyes if you must and be done with it.”

The bushman averted his gaze. “Yes, doc.”

“Good boy.” He patted him on the back, offering him a single honeyed drop of comfort to whet his appetite for when he would inevitably return for more with woefully bitten, bloodied lips, chewing them even still, burdened by it all. “Meet me in the laboratory when you are finished.”

Mick grabbed the jar and eased the insect back inside, effectively sealing her inside of her soon-to-be coffin, devoid of the energy he had arrived with. He wordlessly headed towards their makeshift walk-in freezer, disappearing behind its hulking metal doors.

He breathed out the last of his irritation and collected a lab coat from the rack beside the staircase. Ludwig slipped into it with habitual ease, feeling far less bare than before. He scowled at a purplish bloodstain on one of the sleeves and thought to gently remind Mick of it later, once he was in a better mood.

He strode upstairs, bounding up each one and tapping at the railing, unable to wait any longer. It would only be a few minutes before their specimen was ready for the procedure, but in this state, time would crawl along, much like the hours, if not the days prior to this moment.

Ludwig flicked the switch and the dazzling, almost blindingly white lights of the laboratory stuttered to life, emphasising the pearliness of the tiling, the sleekness of the slate countertops, the glint of oiled machines and the pristineness of his tools. If he did not adore the disgustingly excessive cleanliness and sterility, he would surely be driven mad by it. There was a comfort to be found in seeing one’s own reflection in every freshly sanitised surface, the smells of latex and chemicals, the blissful quiet away from the apartments below. For Ludwig, this place may as well have been a personally tailored paradise, even if others considered that sentiment unusual.

Unlike their humble living quarters, the laboratory sported the finest, latest technology, most of which had been especially designed for his use. He had called in a few favours with a good friend of his, a fellow visionary of the future who only asked for a public endorsement for his company when the time came to speak to the press in return for his work. As promised, a fine leather case rested on the workbench, complete with handling instructions for the courier, demanding the utmost care and attention as to not break the device within – he sincerely hoped Mick too, had abided by them when taking it inside. Ludwig placed his hands on the case, his fingers hesitating on the golden latches, tempted by their heavenly shine.

He told himself to wait, and instead, he made the necessary preparations for their experiment, snapping on a pair of red gloves as he did so. He wanted Mick to be there as he unveiled their brilliant machine to light stars in his tired, once hopeless face. Ludwig remembered the sadness tainting his distractingly vibrant viridian eyes all too well, the very same misery that had carved deep lines into Mick’s once youthful visage. Upon meeting the Australian on those squalid, filthy streets, he had initially believed the man to be only a few years his junior, but deceptively, a life of outcastment and misfortune under the Australian sun had left the poor thing to wither away into a disgustingly haggard, rapidly ageing derelict.

It seemed absurd in retrospect but he had been uninterested at first, even when the boy struck up conversation as he passed him by on the way to work, excited by a familiar, friendly-looking face, or perhaps more accurately, a well dressed, wealthy man. It was upon learning that he was only twenty-six that Ludwig stopped to spend his change on him for the opportunity to discreetly assess him. Day by day, coin by coin, he had interviewed him during their short talks, asking questions as they came up. His education; as minimal as the system allowed, his housing; a quiet bench usually safe from the elements, his relationships; profoundly harmful to all parties involved, his prior work experience; odd jobs, physical ailments; nothing he cared to admit, ideal job; anything that would take him.

He had offered him just that, and the stench of urine and grime had been enough to make him weep when his new assistant hugged him, praising him endlessly for his kindness. Many of his colleagues questioned his choice and his competency, whispering of his proclivities to one another, like a flock of talkative, prying birds. He never cared to argue the fact that they were all fools, not out of the kindness of his heart, rather, in the interest of preserving his reputation. They did not see that he had found the perfect candidate for the job – a man who would nourish his creativity and respect his decisions rather than hold him back with conflicting opinions and moral boundaries.

Mick returned minutes later, clutching the jar in his hands, which had frosted over. His fingers, like strokes of paint on the glass, revealed artful glimpses of the carcass within as they unwittingly wiped away the ice. He brushed by the older man, looking at him for approval as he opened the jar and carefully positioned their specimen on the prepared tray. The scientist leant down, looking closely at the mantis, expecting the resilient creature to spring back to life any moment but she remained motionless, defeated by the cold hand of death at last, unaware that she would soon be defying it, or at least, her DNA would be.

He rested a hand on Mick’s shoulder, the touch startling him, though it was not unwelcome. “I have something to show you.” He met Mick’s eyes, smiling warmly at him. “I think you will like it.”

It intrigued him, as evidenced by the parting of his lips, just enough to reveal the tips of his yellowed front teeth. “I’ve been wonderin’ about that thing.” He nodded towards the box, its lid still closed tight, withholding its mysteries from the world.

He pulled away from the younger man, gently stroking the leather surface with his fingers. “Oh, I imagine you have.” He unclipped the latches, deliberately taking his time with each one. “Would you like to see what’s inside?”

“That’d be good, yeah.”

Ludwig slowly lifted the lid of the case, revealing its embroidered silk lining and it took his breath away to see the machine of his own design resting regally on top. The medical professional’s attention landed on the sleekness of the handle and the elegance of the trigger, while the sadist’s eye went directly to the collection of sharp needles of varying shapes and sizes, their gleam as dangerous as the radiant smile of the moon.

He couldn’t help but hold the ingenious device, running his hand along the barrel, the handle, and finally to the glass chamber on the end, feeling its immense power at his fingertips. He peeked inside of the glass, noticing the blocky, jagged shapes of mechanical components inside, which worked in perfect harmony to turn bodily fluids into pure, usable genetic material before they were stored in the canister to be injected into the desired host.

He hoped it would function as he had outlined. His associate, as brilliant as he was, was no geneticist and from time to time, things got lost in translation from frantically muddled English and German to idiomatic, colloquial American English. This time, he had exhaustively explained every aspect of it to prevent such a mishap from occurring. They could not afford errors of any kind – a faulty machine could be replaced, but his body and mind could not.

“Are we gonna give it a crack or are we just gonna stare at it all day?”

“My, my, someone’s eager.” The scientist crooned, not daring to look away from the wonderful contraption for a second. He was fascinated with it to the extent where he wanted to lick it, something he recognised as potentially dangerous, for many reasons. He would have tried it, if Mick was not there to cause a fuss. “Perhaps I should test it on you, hm?”

His assistant instinctually stepped back. “Nah, you don’t want this DNA or whatever, it’s a whole lot of shit.”

“I would argue otherwise.” He stepped a little closer, a gloved hand cupping the boy’s chin, tilting his head from side to side as he stared, wide-eyed and horrified, unsure of whether he was serious or not. “You have perfect eyesight, healthy skin, flexible joints, keen senses and many aesthetic features most would consider desirable, or at least would be if you took better care of yourself.”

The bushman blinked once, twice. “Wait, what’d you just say?”

He released him, giggling with glee. “Come on now, we have an experiment to conduct!” He clasped his hands together, eliciting a strangled groan from the rubber of his gloves. Ludwig browsed through the provided needles, all of which could be installed and removed on a whim for different sized specimens. He collected the smallest of them all – about the size of a pin needle, if not thinner – and screwed it on the end of the barrel until it was tightly in place, careful as not to prick himself.

“Stand aside, bitte. For all I know this thing might explode the moment I turn it on.”

Mick peeled away from him. “You’re jokin’ right?” He asked, nerves plaguing his normally laid-back intones.

“Of course I am. When was the last time something exploded in my laboratory?”

“Last week, you wanker.”

“Really? I don’t recall.”

“That’s ‘cause it knocked ya out cold.”

“Ah, yes! I remember now.” He sang cheerily. “Well, I’m sure it won’t happen again.” He grinned, flicking the switch on the side, eliciting a whirr from the harvester as it surged with energy.

“I’m not scoopin’ your brains off the floor if that thing pops like a bloody balloon.” Mick shielded his face with his hand, daring to peek through his fingers.

Ludwig lined the device up with the insect’s thorax and pierced her soft underbelly, going deep into her guts. Partially frozen haemolymph to oozed from the incision and he grinned, his fingers trembling on the trigger, unable to be still with the anticipation blitzing through his bloodstream. He gave it a firm pull, hearing it click as it locked in place. Seconds later, an inhuman groan rumbled from the depths of the machine and a light radiated from within, casting a red glow around the glass chamber. The metal warmed in his hands, and motion spurred from under his fingertips, as if the device were truly alive.

The machine grew louder with every passing moment, the whine of its insides rapidly heightening into a pained scream. A harsh thunk sounded as the machine sucked in the creature’s fluids and organs, turning them all into an unrecognisable liquid as they passed through each section and into the chamber. The light burned brighter into a blinding vermillion sun, causing heat to seep through his gloves, becoming almost unbearable. He turned away from the glow, the shriek of the harvester rising to deafening levels. Inside, the spinning cogs and mechanisms crackled, popped and snapped, chewing each other up into unrecognisable, useless hunks of metal, filling the air with a putrid burning smell. The machine shuddered and trembled in his hands and as though it could burst at any moment, unable to take the strain of its final processes.

But a mechanical hiss, the harvester powered down, steam whispering from its ruined form. He was ready to jot this down as an astronomical failure when he noticed the fluid sloshing around within the storage tank. It was entirely colourless, meaning it was no longer tissue or haemolymph, rather, it had been miraculously purified. Despite the machine burning itself out, it had managed to completely harvest her DNA, as indicated by the green light weakly flickering from inside the glass.

“Incredible… it actually worked.” He breathed out.

“Are ya sure? I think it’s cooked itself.”

He tapped the glass, making a thoughtful sound. “The completion light is on.”

“Bugger the light, the bloody thing’s fucked.” He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the greatness of his invention.

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that we’re better off safe than sorry.”

“It sounds to me like you do not trust my judgement.” He snapped, shooting the boy a glare over his glasses, reminding him of his authority.

“That’s not what I meant, I was–”

“Oh, so you want to talk back to me now, do you?”

“No, doc.”

“Of course not.” He whispered, his tone flipping to sickly, taunting sweetness in an instant. “Now that you have finished insulting my work, would you mind helping me with the injection?”

Mick took the syringe from him but hesitated, his fingers freezing in place. He refused to meet his eyes, instead looking at the miraculous liquid bubbling inside of the machine. “Look, doc, I don’t want to get in the way, but is this really a good idea? I mean, these things eat each other just for the fun of it. I don’t know if turnin’ into one is the brightest move.”

“Ah, I should have known that was the thing bothering you.” He sighed, steepling his hands. “You see, Mick, I could argue the same thing with mankind. Every one of us is capable of despicable acts, but for most, our unique ability to feel empathy and rigid laws – written or otherwise – keep us from tearing each other to pieces.” He made a crushing motion with his hands. “All that is to say I could easily kill and eat you right now if I so desired, I am certainly physically capable of doing so, but not on a psychological level. If this procedure goes to plan, my mind should remain perfectly preserved.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very. You will not have to worry about being eaten, I assure you.”

“Alright, that’s… that’s good enough for me.” He breathed out, finally readying the syringe. “Where do you want it?”

He shrugged off his coat and undid his tie before undoing the buttons of his collar, exposing his neck. “My neck, bitte.”

He breathed in deep, calming himself. “Pray I don’t stab an artery or anythin’.”

“Relax, it is no different to what you have done before.” He tilted his head to give the younger man better access to his veins.

The silver eye of the needle inched closer until it nervously kissed his skin and sunk in slowly, injecting the liquid without any of the professionalism he had grown used to. A pained hiss escaped him and the bushman apologised feverishly, the sting worsening to a burn, as if his blood were boiling, melting him from the inside. The needle withdrew, and in mere moments, the pain passed into a faint, dull throb.

“What happens now?” Mick put the now empty, useless machine aside.

“We wait.” He replied, uttering the two words pleasantly despite how much he despised them – he would much prefer instantaneous results. “A celebratory drink would be an excellent way to pass the time, don’t you think?”

Next Chapter

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theaterism · 2 years

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✏️!!! for wren and fox but also anyone else if u'd like bc all our characters have fantastic dynamics actually ABKXBBKD

incorrect quotes - accepting!

Wren: Someone care to explain why we have 6 dogs in our apartment?

Foxtrot: They're golden retrievers. They retrieve gold. I did this for us.

Foxtrot: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail.

Wren: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station.

Wren: Don’t worry, I have a permit.

Foxtrot: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

Wren: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes?

Foxtrot: For the dogs.

Wren: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs?

Foxtrot: They don't know how.

Wren: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight.

Foxtrot: Actually, Wren, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.

Wren: If I run and leap at Fox, he will most certainly catch me in his arms.

Wren, running towards Foxtrot: Coming in!

Foxtrot: No! I’m holding tea!

Foxtrot: *Drops tea and catches Wren*

Foxtrot: Thought I was meowing back at the cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Wren meowing at each other from different rooms in the theater.

Wren: I am 39 cheetos tall.

Foxtrot: Why... are you measuring your height in cheetos?

Wren: Because we're out of doritos.

Foxtrot: It’s a powerful artifact. We’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Wren: That sounds like a dare to me.

Foxtrot: Oh my god.

Wren: Pick a card, any card.

Foxtrot: Alright.

Wren: Wait, that's my credit card!

Foxtrot: You said any card.

Foxtrot: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli.

Wren, eye wide: I know what I saw.

Foxtrot: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

Wren:

Foxtrot: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?

Wren: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&Ms.

——

…. bonus cerise and farren quotes bc i appreciate them too okay agdgdgdgd

——

Cerise: What do I get?

Farren: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.

Cerise: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one.

Farren: It won't be you.

Cerise: I'll get my coat.

Cerise: I made tea.

Farren: I don't want tea.

Cerise: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Farren: Then why did you tell me?

Cerise: It's a conversation starter.

Farren: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Cerise: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Cerise: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism.

Farren: And you came to me?

Cerise, trying to comfort Farren: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there.

Cerise, to Farren: If you can ever manage to get over yourself, I would highly recommend being me.

Cerise: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

Farren: Which one? I can't do both.

Cerise: Are you mad?

Farren: No.

Cerise: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Cerise: That sounds lovely! Doesn’t that sound lovely, Farren?

Farren: No.

Cerise: I think I speak for Farren when I say it sounds really lovely.

Farren: Someone will die.

Cerise: Of fun!

Cerise: You know what I’ve realized?

Farren: Some thoughts are better left unsaid?

Cerise: Nice try, anyways-

#magickedhat #(!!! hi i would love to format this to make it look nicer but unfortunately i am stuck on mobile so AGDGDGDG)#(IM SORRY)#(OFFERS THIS TO U ANYWAY!!!!)#(all our characters DO have fantastic dynamics you’re SO right-)#(i was going to do florist & gilmore ones too but i ran out of energy unfortunately agdgdg SOMEDAY I WILL THO)#|☆| inbox #|☆| to the stars || fox & wren #|☽| foxtrot ( clever fox )#|☽| cerise ( actress )#|☆| ic

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alchemic-elric · 2 years

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@sanguinehaven asked:

*I'm not too well versed in the struggles of those outside of this world, but if you'd like, you're free to talk and I'll do my best to understand. It's the least I can do, I feel.

Cerise says, carefully placing a tall cup of fruity bubble tea in front of Edward.

Somehow he doesn’t want to yell at this person - this overly pink person and he’s come to find himself in a tea house that is entirely all too very much not Amestris. He’s stopped asking questions when it comes to his appearance in strange locations by now but when you’ve met God or the World or Truth or whatever the hell it claimed it was when you were only eleven you’d stop asking questions too.

So he’s pulled the offered glass closer to himself and he lets his hands cup it as he holds idly in his grip. He can feel the condensation building on the outside of it’s surface running against the mounts on the palm of left hand and it’s a sensation that simply something else to focus on. A sensation that makes this entire situation all the more real but with everything he’s seen - how couldn’t it be?

It’s an offer to vent. It’s an offer to simply release the building tension in his chest that he keeps hiding behind a wide smile and false proclamations of I’m alright. Alphonse’s pain is a million times worse and Papa’s? Hawkeye’s? They’ve seen war. His problems seem like nothing in the face of all that. Is it okay from him to hurt too? He hurts too.

“It don’t feel right ventin’ when ev’ryone else I know’s life sucks more than mine. Al’s got it the worst’a all but Papa’s got it pretty fuckin’ bad too. Fuck ‘e took us in, that’s bad enough. We’re a walking precession'a bad fuckin’ luck. S’all we ev’r bring. Nu’hin’ good happin’s when we’re ‘round. Me n’ Al I mean.

I’ve been fuckin’ up fer as long as I c’n remember. Mom, Alphonse, Grandma, Winry, Teacher - somehow I’m ei’her fuckin’ it up ‘er pissin’ somebody off but settin’ ‘ere belly achin’ ‘bout it ain’t gunna fuckin’ solve nu’hin’. What fuckin’ good does it do ta say I hurt too? Fuck’s that accomplish? Nu’hin’.

I jus’ gotta keep goin’. Keep pushin’. If I stop, I die. It’s that simple. If I go down it’s the end’a me. The people ‘round m’ c’n’t afford that shit. I c’n’t afford that shit. If I stop, I break. If I break, I die. That simple. There ain’t nu’hin’ fuckin’ complicated ‘bout it. Cryin’ ‘bout m’feelings ain’t gunna accomplish shit. So there ain’t no point in layin’ out. Jus’ gotta work through that shit on m’own. No one else needs ta deal with m’bullshit.

It ain’t their bullshit ta work through. I ain’t no one’s fuckin’ burden. I got less chance’a fuckin’ breakin’ sum’hin’ ‘gain the less I touch anyway.”

#ask || Edward Answers #Unprompted || Surprise Orders #sanguinehaven

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stoopsbookstore · 5 years

Text

Fansite

Synopsis- After months of being fanboys, Hyunjin and his friends arennew fansites for the girl group, Hue, and after several misadventures, the group is starting to recognize them, Hyunjin in particular, as the most memorable fanboys they've met.

"None of these photos came out right, they're all blurry," Jaemin slammed his laptop shut in anger, "how am I supposed to be the best Cerise fansite out there if I can't even catch her in moment? Look! Her hair looks amazing, but her face is all blurry because Lil-"

A pillow hit the boy in the face as Hyunjin looked up from his laptop, "Don't blame Lilac! It's not my fault your camera is 4 years old and there's dust inside of it."

"At least he didn't drop our gift to them. Starbucks aren't cheap, that order had to be like 30 dollars," Gai pointed out to the group, fixing the TV signal, "I'll never forget the look on Bai's face when that black coffee with 2 sugar packets fell the group."

"To be fair, it was only 20 dollars because Cerise isn't supposed to have caffeine since she was in the hospital back in February and the doctor told her to cool it."

"Stop being such a fanboy," Hyunjin swatted Jaemin's hair as he collected the pillow from the floor.

Hyunjin, Jaemin, Gai and Jongho were having a monthly meeting for their favorite girl group, Hue, and this is their first meeting as official fansites of the girls. Gai's bias was Emerald, Jaemin's was Cerise, Jongho couldn't decide between Cierra or Bai and Hyunjin immediately fell for Lilac, as known as Y/N. The boys sat around the tv as Hue's interview started.

"Color the sky! Hi, we are Hue!" The girls cheeted in unison, each dressed in their respective color.

"We are so proud of our Shades. Because of you all, we have our first win for 'Borealis,' and we couldn't be anymore thankful," Cierra, the group's leader, dressed in a black tanktop, black shorts and fishnets with boots, spoke.

"We also have another announcement!" Cerise, the main dancer dressed in a short pink plaid skirt and a matching t-shirt, pointed to the camera.

"Yes, we do, Cerise!" Emerald, the main rapper clad in a green outfit similar to Cierra, continued the prepared speech, "we're inviting several fansites to an exclusive fanmeet!"

"That we are!" Bai, the maknae in a white, off the shoulder dress spoke, "Lilac is going to announce the 40 fansites who are coming to this special event happening in 2 days at Thalian Hall."

As soon as the girl in the purple v-neck t-shirt with matching high-waisted shorts and garter belts came on the screen, Hyunjin was mesmerized. A chorus of birds spinning around his head as he imagined his life with Lilac.

"Oh, Lilac! I love you so much!"

"Hyunie! We're getting married! Please call me Y/N!"

"Oh Y/N, my bride! My princess!"

He broke out of his daydream as Jongho started shaking him.

"We're going to the event! This time as official people! We're going to get passes and get to see them up close!" Jongho yelled in Hyunjin's face.

"We can make up for all those fanmeets where Hyunjin destroyed a set piece!" Gai cheered, running to clean his camera.

"Or accidentally hit a bodyguard!" Jaemin kissed the TV screen when Cerise showed up, disgusting Jongho as he patted Hyunjin on the back, "or all the times we tried to give them little gifts, only for Hyunjin to get them taken or ruin them."

"Bro! This is our chance! We actually get to talk to the girls for a little bit and even hold their hands! We finally get to have photos that we can edit! We can make our own gifs!" Jongho cheered, jumping up and down on the sofa.

Hyunjin sat stunned, he has an opportunity to make up for his slip-ups. He still doesn't forgive himself for accidentally spilling a unicorn frappuccino for Y/N down a bodyguard's back.

'Hopefully she has forgotten about that incident'

"Ok, guys," Hyunjin opened his laptop on the table, hyping the group up, "if we're going to impress the girls, we should practice!"

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

"Color the sky! Hi, we wre Hue!" The girl group announced their presence as the small 40-person audience cheered.

"We are so proud of you Shade, that we had to do something special," Cyan spoke in the microphone, a small amount of feedback fading in and out.

"I already see a few familiar faces out there," Emerald waved her lightstick in the air, "Emmy's World, who has been to every event since pre-debut! A legendary Shade, if I do say so myself."

The crowd laughed as the sound of shutters and the bright flashes went off, capturing the girls in every moment. Hyunjin watched as the crowd had different techniques to get the girls' attention. Emmy's World had a sign above their camera that said "Emerald, over here!" Another fansite called Light Cream for Bai had a polar bear plushie taped to the top of their camera and Jaemin was dressed head to toe in hot pink for Cerise, becoming the fansite Neon Flamingo.

Hyunjin felt like he was disassociating, this isn't his real life, it's just a dream and he's going to wake up soon, Gai is going to freak out because he found a cute picture of Emerald that actually allowed editing, Jaemin will be attempting to DM Cerise and Jongho will be making a pros-cons list of having a double bias.

Hyunjin heard his fansite name, Field of Lilacs, through the speaker. He walked to the front of the crowd, shooting photos of Y/N as she posed in a purple mid-thigh skater skirt, her off-white lilac-hued button up tucked into the skirt.

"Hey," Y/N pointed at Hyunjin, "you're the coffee guy, right?!"

Hyunjin wished to shrink in on himself as he felt everyone's eyes on him, some burning holes into his head. Hyunjin kept his head down, looking at the pictures he took, ashamed of the fact he's known as the coffee guy. He wanted to run away, but he continued to take photos.

A wave of guilt came over Y/N. Maybe she shouldn't have brought that up, she just wanted to make the cute guy with the light blue shirt knew he was actually one of the fans the girls knew and talked about all the time.

'Does he feel bad about the coffee? It was just an accident...'

Y/N whispered to Emerald, no one could tell for Y/N had hid her mouth by her hand. After Emerald had talked to one of their managers, Y/N kept her eye on Hyunjin, who felt awkward the rest of the event.

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

"Guys! Holy shit, we have so many good photos! Look at Cyan!" Gai flipped through his camera roll as Jaemin and Jongho were looking at each other's photos.

Hyunjin sat on a bench outside the event hallway, kicking his feet as he played with the camera strap. The other three boys were running around like chickens with their heads cut off when Hyunjin was approached by a tall man.

"Ms. Y/N is asking for you," the bodyguard towered over Hyunjin, the intimidation factor causing Hyunjin to go wide-eyed, "Nothing bad. She just wishes to talk to you privately."

Hyunjin took a glimpse at his friends, who were still comparing photos and talking about their favorite moments, "Uuhh, yea, sure."

The pair walked down the hallway, heading towards a double door which led to the Hue tour bus and the five members standing outside the bus, making sure they have all their luggage.

"Thanks Davey," Y/N dismissed the bodyguard as he patted Hyunjin's back, the boy lurching forward, Y/N's hands catching his shoulders and helping him avoid falling.

"Umm, sorry," Hyunjin kept curled up in himself.

"No, oh my God, I should be sayimg sorry to you. I didn't realize you were embarrassed by the whole coffee situation," Y/N apologized, feeling genuinely awful about the situation, "I know some of the fansites were plotting your demise by the way they were staring at you."

Hyunjin sported a small smile, "honestly, it's okay. I just wasn't expecting it from my ultimate bias."

"Oh?!" Y/N dramatically put her hand over her heart, "little old me?! Your ultimate bias? I think Neon Flamingo may be my favorite fansite."

Hyunjin and Y/N started laughing, the awkwardness fading as they continued to stand around each other. They shared glances at each other until Y/N reached into her bag, pulling out a piece of paper and a purple pen.

"Here. It's my personal profile," Y/N handed Hyunjin a piece of paper, hiding it under Bai's camera, "be careful, if it gets out, Davey is going to blame you and he knows your face very well."

"I can buy him a coffee if it would make him feel better," Hyunjin adjusted the bag on his shoulder, easing his fidgetiness.

Y/N and Hyunjin stood in comfortable silence as the three other boys started shouting for their missing friend.

"I should probably go as well, we have rehearsals tonight," Y/N softly smiled at Hyunjin, "it was really nice actually getting to talk to Mr. Disaster."

Hyunjin chuckled at the nickname, realizing he's still holding Bai's camera, "if you don't mind, may I get one photo?"

"I don't think Bai would mind," Y/N took the camera, putting her hand on Hyunjin's waist as she extended her arm out.

The camera flashed and she kissed Hyunjin's cheek, the photo printing out as she handed it to Hyunjin. Hue's manager started yelling for all the girls to get in the bus, Y/N running and waving back at Hyunjin.

"I'll see you later," Y/N shouted as the door to the bus closed, leaving Hyunjin with the photo of the pairing.

Putting the small photo in his phonecase, Hyunjin unlocked his phone, opening an app and adding Y/N. After a short bit, his phone pinged with a notification he never thought he would see.

"LilacLovesHue has added you!"

#stray kids au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin

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kpop-sprite · 6 years

Text

WooYoung x Reader

Nasty AF Wooyoung smut for ANON!

The smoke in the air clouded my vision more than the alcohol did. Bodies pressing up against one another. The aroma of body sweat swirled with the endless scent of Bhang bleaching the air. Everything was fuzzy tonight, but the light that did manage to seep through burnished only you; illuminating you.

His body moved towards me, the sway of his hips popping into people, creeping closer to me.

“Hey!” He half shouted, the bass booming through the club, beating through my chest.

“H-hey!” I leaned in, reciprocating in loudness, hoping he heard me.

“A bit crowded tonight, huh?” His voice barely being heard through my ears, his smile the only thing I could communicate with, a smirk.

“Wanna dance?” I read his lips that time, nodding and taking his hand that reached out for me.

His fingers interlaced with mine, him pulling me in between people, my breasts rubbing against other girls, my hair swishing across bare backs of men without their shirts on, glitter embedding itself across my naval. He pulled me close to his body when he found a spot to press our existences together. The smell of cognac on his breath mixing with the earthy sandalwood in his cologne.

I pressed his hands into my hips, my bottom burying itself in his crotch as we rolled together. Long digits sliding up and down my well curved frame, trailing into my long locks of black, pulling my head back allowing supple cerise stained lips to press deeply against my throat. I allowed him to press petals into my skin before spinning around, rotating around his body, dragging my fingertips from pectorals, to abs, sliding down to his waistband, snapping his crotch back into me. Heavy breathing mouths inches from touching, highlighted cheekbones accentuated features only God could have created.

“You live near-by?” He breathed in my ear.

“About a block.” My eyes staring into his mind.

My back crashed into the door as I fiddled with the knob to open it, his lips buried into mine, our tongues creating the infinity as if it was already our thing. The door slammed open, my keys falling to the floor, shoes being kicked to the side as his hands dug into my satin skin. Fuck.

I snatched his shirt over his head, dark eyes burning into me before ripping open the button up top exposing my breasts. I pushed against his chest allowing the couch to catch his fall. I slipped off my skirt and tights, my cheeky cut panties sliding down my sticky with sweat thighs.

His breathing was heavy, heart pounding, and fuck that bulge was there for me. I straddled him, my hair curtaining us into our own space in time, his hand reaching up to rub my cheek before planting to the back of my head and pulling me in for another savage kiss.

My hips rolled into his sweaty body, my essence leaving skid marks across his black leather pants, his dick pounding against the fabric, that guttural sound from his chest embarking a new endeavor for us. He slid me to the side snapping his pants off quickly, his erection standing tall and twitching against his happy trail, small black hairs guiding the way. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the couch his body flat against the cushions I anchored myself over his face his fingers teasing the folds that were wet just for him.

I mewled for him to do more, my pussy folds dipping to his lips, his tongue lapping up the slit irritatingly slow. I squirmed above him, my hands holding onto his sculptured abdomen. His smirk was burning through my core as he took my nub into his mouth sucking it hard. Shit shit shit.

He pulled back momentarily, allowing me to slide down to his cock lifting my body so my core was barely kissing the head of his erection. I began to sit slowly, my walls stretching to fit him inside of me, his hands gripping my hips, my bare bottom blessing his view now. I cocked my head to face him, “tell me, handsome. Whose name am I going to be screaming?”

The smirk to burn a thousand stars spoke out, husky and seductive, “Wooyoung, baby girl.”

His hands gripped my skin tighter, assisting my core to be filled repeatedly with his cock. I bounced mewling and groaning, desperate to keep the fire from pooling out from inside. His cock rubbed against the most sensitive of my nerves, the bundle being rubbed feverishly. Bruises being left into my skin as he pounded me up and down, not letting up, his dick reaching the outer parts of my cervix, my stomach feeling full now. Fuck, he fills me up so good.

I breathed heavy as Wooyoung placed slaps across my ass, his hands grabbing it aggressively leaving his imprints to label me his, and tonight, I was. I fucked his cock like it gave me life, bouncing up and down, my thighs burning from the exercise of it all, tears spilling out of my eyes, drool starting to pool out from my lips. “Fuck, baby girl. You’re so good for my cock.”

His words of praise pushing me over the edge, my fire pooling out of my core as I tightened around his dick, my orgasm hitting me like a freight train. “AH, FUCK ME, WOOYOUNG!” I arched my back his hands keeping me up, his cock pounding upwards into my worn-out frame until his own arousal spilled into my core its heat the only thing being felt anymore.

Wooyoung smiled as he came down from his own high, “So, tell me baby girl, what’s your name?”

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theliterarywolf · 6 years

Note

... You may have made me want to get into Monster High a little. I was never a doll kinda person, but some of the MH designs are really appealing. Which are your favourites?

*shoves the reboot off of a cliff*

Oh, anon! Oh anon! You have given me a gift! Oh, I could talk about -- G1 -- Monster High and the character designs for hours!

And I personally didn’t even actively collect the dolls. The only ‘High’ (Monster High and the ill-fated fantasy spin-off Ever After High) dolls that I own are an ‘Art Class’ Abbey Bominable and the ComicCon Collector’s Edition Cerise Wolf.

But my overall favorite designs from Monster High are as follows:

Abbey Bominable, the daughter of the Abominable Snowman

Clawdia Wolf, a werewolf writer (doesn’t take two guesses to figure out why I loved this character despite the movie she appeared in being AWFUL...)

I also loved what they did with her since, being a writer, she moved to the series’ equivalent of England (Londoom) to study. So she was literally an American Werewolf in London.

Avea Trotter, one of the ‘Hybrid Monsters’ introduced during the Freaky Fusion movie/campaign. She’s the daughter of a centaur and a harpy.

Honey Swamp. God, her hair is to DIE for. She’s the daughter of a swamp monster from Boo Orleans.

... Yeah, when it comes to the locations in the Monster High franchise, they’re all puns.

Casta Fierce. This design, that name!

Kiyomi Haunterly, the daughter of the Noppera-Bo, or ‘faceless ghosts’, of Japanese mythology.

Isi Dawndancer, an exchange student introduced during the Monster Exchange program. She’s a deer-spirit from... *sigh* Boo Hexico...

Operetta! G1 Operetta was a fucking QUEEN in regards to her design and I will not hear otherwise! She’s the daughter of the Phantom of the Opera who’s going through a bit of a Rockabilly counterculture phase.

Marisol Coxi, another Monster Exchange foreign-exchange student. She’s the daughter of the Maricoxi, a sort of South American (’South Scaremerica’ in MH canon) version of Bigfoot from Monster Picchu (PUNS!!). There was a bit of a kerfluffle with this character’s design when her doll launched because, I shit you not, people didn’t like how big her feet were.

Despite the fact that her whole character motif is being proud of her extravagant height, hair, and feet as well as the fact that SHE’S LITERALLY A SOUTH AMERICAN BIGFOOT!

Neightan Rot, another hybrid monster. He’s the son of a zombie and a unicorn and he is gay, Mattel, you are not going to lie to me and tell me this boy wasn’t gay, MATTEL!!!

Vandalla Doubloons, who I believe was the daughter of the Flying Dutchman.

River Styxx (GET IT?!), the daughter of the Grim Reaper who was one of the Monster High franchise’s 3 or so answers to characters like MLP: FiM’s Pinkie Pie in regards to her personality.

In the movie she appeared in, Haunted, she had even fitted her father’s spectral boat with party cannons.

Gooliope Jellington, a 15-foot slimegirl created in a lab to be a circus performer. Introduced during the circus-themed Freak du Chic campaign. Interesting tidbit about her (dollwise): her doll, to keep the theming of her character, was 2-3 times as tall as any of the other Monster High ghoul characters.

Honestly, though, if you have Netflix the best way to experience Monster High is through the movies. I would say through the G1 webisodes as well, but the official Monster High YouTube channel is so chock-full of spam reuploads of crappy stuff from the remake that I wouldn’t send anyone to sift through that mess.

If anyone is interested, I can post a guide of what movies are worth watching in response to another ask. This post got pretty long -- Oh GOD, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT ALL OF THESE EPIC DESIGNS GOT RETCONNED INTO THE ABYSS THANKS TO THE SHITTY FUCKING REBOOT..!!!

#Anonymous #replies

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knock-me-out · 6 years

Text

panic! in the hallway

genre - big phat mess tbh I dunno

characters - p much everyone + some random girl

word count - 1748 words of sheer garbage

requested - nope ! request stuff tho, guys !!

summary - hyun gets cornered by a pretty girl, the other members are shook, ryeo’s possessive and jealous...ki gets hit a lot. it’s a mess. not proofread, some references to shit we haven’t really posted about but there’s enough there that everything should be kinda self explanatory anyways? we’ll get to it.

there’s some crass language and sexual innuendos, keep that in mind.

“It’s Hyunseok-sunbae, right?”

He’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t physically jolt outright, the unfamiliar let liltingly melodic tone catching the leader unawares as he exited the bathroom, blinking vapidly at the owner of the voice for a few ticks longer than appropriate before recognizing, yes, a very attractive girl was looking at him expectantly, and no, it didn’t seem she was being bribed to approach him. He didn’t recognize her, but that was nothing new, Hyun was normally about as clueless about new groups and their debuts as he was when it came to biomechanical engineering, but it didn’t take recognition to acknowledge visuals. She was shorter than he was by quite a bit, petal lips glossy and rose-tinted, a stray speck of glitter from her eyeshadow adorning a high cheekbone, her hair dyed cherry red. He hadn’t said a thing yet, shit, he hadn’t said a thing.

“Yes!” Too enthusiastic, too pressured, and Hyunseok backtracked rapidly, stumbling over his words for a moment, hurriedly bowing briefly in greeting and using the opportunity to clandestinely wipe the palms of his hands on his pants, having already nervously started sweating despite the fact that he’d washed his hands not even two minutes before. “Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before?” It was hard to make the question sound as polite as it should have been, but the simple fact of the matter was that he didn’t know this girl, and it wasn’t altogether too normal for her to approach him the way she had...especially considering their location. The SBS Open Hall was teeming with idols, certainly, but normally groups tended to stick to their own unless absolutely necessary.

“No, we haven’t. I’m Eunmi, I...your sister and I went to international school together? I didn’t hear about what happened until recently, I’m so sorry.” Hyun’s smile faltered at that, but only momentarily, and he cast a somewhat panicked glance over her shoulder to where his members were clustered obnoxiously in the middle of the corridor and diverting the flow of other people, meeting Remi’s eyes and being graced with an inquisitive raise of the brows from the oldest member.

“Ah, I...appreciate that.” What was someone supposed to say to that, now of all times? He’d hardly managed to process through any of it himself, and he wondered for a moment how the information might have gotten out if W.C. insisted on keeping it all so tightly under wraps, at least until they finished promotions.

“Your stage tonight was incredible, by the way! You really are topping the charts right now, especially after such a long hiatus…” Eunmi’s lips pursed, her affect just screaming that she wanted more information on that nebulous ten-month break, but Hyunseok wouldn’t bite. He was far too caught up on the shift in topic; how could someone go from expressing condolences for the loss of a supposed school friend to what seemed like….it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be trying to flirt with him, could she? Hyunseok felt heat crawl to his face within milliseconds of the notion, and he curled his fingers into his palms momentarily. It was ridiculous to even consider; the girls tended to flock towards Dohwan and Remi before himself, even Kiyong when he seemed in an approachable mood...Hyunseok was an afterthought, usually too busy looking nauseated with anxiety at large-scale events to receive more than a perfunctory nod in his direction or a friendly but distracted greeting.

“Everyone’s been working hard, we’re lucky to have such loyal fans, that’s all.” The compliment was brushed off instinctively, but he couldn’t fight back a nervous laugh that was more of an excuse to exhale a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding up until that point...a breath that devolved quickly into a somewhat undignified cough as she reached out.

“Give yourself more credit!” Her hand was on his shoulder, she was touching him, and the heat of her palm was like a brand through the thin and silky material of his shirt. Thank God for makeup, otherwise he was sure anyone within a ten mile radius would have been able to register the cerise hue of his face. Hyunseok shifted his weight, another anxious laugh passing between them until she lowered her hand, ghosting long fingernails maybe just a bit more directly than necessary along his upper arm as she did so. Or was he just imagining that?

No, he couldn’t possibly be imagining the obvious interest in her gaze, the way she flicked her hair over one shoulder, the tilt of her hips.

“With a leader like you, it’s no wonder you guys are right back to your old success, right?”

Yep, he was screwed.

“Is she being paid to talk to him, or what?” Kiyong was bored, and had been announcing it every ten minutes like clockwork, but the introduction of a new potential topic had piqued his interest the moment he witnessed what was occuring. When Hyunseok had been stopped outside the bathroom, it was almost comical how the conversations amongst the remaining eleven members had ceased to spy on the leader maybe a bit less inconspicuously than could be hoped.

“Oh boy, she wants a piece of that.” It was Dohwan’s turn to interject as the mysterious redhead put her hand on Hyunseok’s shoulder, letting it fall only mere seconds after, but it was a touch nonetheless. “Her name’s Eunmi, her group debuted just a few months ago.”

“And how would you know?” Ki snapped immediately, and even though it was more than plausible that Dohwan knew what he was talking about, he’d take any excuse he could to push back when the other knew something he didn’t.

“The leader of her group and I, uh…long story short, they all hate me now, I’m surprised Eunmi’s talking to Hyunseok-hyung at all. She’s gorgeous, though, I’ll tap that if he doesn’t.”

“We aren’t talking about mom’s sex life right now. Or ever, thanks.” Owen spoke up for the first time in a while, having been too distracted by his side conversation with Dae, the latter of which looking as confused as he always did.

“Who are we talking about?”

“Dae-yah, you’re like ninety feet tall, how are you still that unaware of what’s going on?”

“Wait, where’s--”

“Oh my God.” Kiyong’s sharp tone cut through Daesung’s question, and he spoke in English this time around and continued to do as he kept going. Whether or not he was aware of it was unclear, and he grabbed onto Remi’s arm and leaned heavily into him. “She definitely just hit him with the ‘ooh shouldn’t you go back to your members?’ He waved her off, he waved her off. Is it just me or does he look less like he wants to fling himself out a window, now? Ooh, boy, there’s that posture shift -- he’s going for it. It’s like watching some weird exotic bird doing a mating dance.”

Owen and Remi were clearly the only two to pick up on the majority what he’d said, but Dohwan’s brows drew together at the word mating, at least he knew that one.

“Guys, leave him alone.” Seungjae didn’t bother glancing up from his phone as he spoke, thumbs a blur on the screen as he typed out what looked like an aggressively long-winded rant in Japanese. “He’s an adult and can make his own stupid decisions.”

“Your mom’s a stupid decision.”

“Ki, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does your face.”

Both Jui and Seungjae raised a hand to hit him at that, but only Jui followed through, landing a heavy smack between Kiyong’s shoulder blades that was forceful enough that he choked on the water he had brought to his lips, spitting the majority back out into the bottle and unceremoniously onto his own hand...a hand he subsequently wiped on Dohwan’s jacket.

“She just gave him her number, I think, lady, there are sandwiches for a reason. Good thing hyung's always too nervous to eat during these things or he would have thrown up all over her by now.”

Owen had a point. It was curious, however, that Hyunseok’s affect seem to have shifted in only a few minutes. He’d gone from standing stiffly, face a lot redder than he probably thought it was, and expression akin to being confronted with a dead baby bunny to...confident, at least in Kiyong’s opinion. Hyun was laughing, genuinely laughing at something she said, when Ryeokwon suddenly removed himself from the group and approached Hyunseok and Eunmi without having said a single word.

“Well, shit.”

For once, Ki had to agree with Dohwan.

“No, no, it was the second time he got caught with a girl that--” Hyunseok’s anecdote was cut off succinctly by the approach of Ryeokwon, and he watched as a hardened expression only worsened as the blond reached out for Hyunseok.

“Hyung, we need to go.” He was used that tone again, the ‘I’m going to seem borderline casual but you know I mean it’ sort of inflection Ryeo liked to adopt in public, but it was apparent that Hyun’s hesitation wasn’t good enough for him. Hyunseok’s attention was diverted not only by the dancer now holding his hand, but also by a yell from the direction of the others, to see Jui repeatedly swatting Kiyong upside the head with what looked like an empty and half-crushed water bottle. He didn’t notice the caustic and possessive glare Ryeokwon shot at Eunmi, nor did he witness the nervous manner in which she shied back half a step. When he returned his attention to the blond and the redhead now picking uncomfortably at one of the many bracelets adorning her slim wrists, it was only to concede.

“I, ah, should get back to…”

He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his tone. Eunmi was trying hard to look nonplussed, but there was a tenseness to her jaw that he interpreted only as regret.

“That’s alright...I should get going too anyways, yeah? Well...you know how to reach me.”

Hyunseok wasn’t given an opportunity to respond properly beyond an awkward half-wave before she turned and he allowed himself to be half-dragged somewhat barbarically back to the others, where he was met by an enthusiastic clap on the back from Dohwan and a look of unguarded confusion from just about everyone else.

Seungjae only had one thing to say.

“Your fly was halfway undone the whole time, by the way.”

#🦋#writing #doesn't reflect my usual style and I'm iffy on it but I have to feed the masses #alternative title: ki gets smacked like forty times #alternative alternative title: dae is clueless 24/7 and needs help

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thebigshotman · 2 years

Note

*Sooooo, I assume everything went well with all of you?

Cerise says, with a light, relieved smile. They have a tray of drinks for all of them, tall glasses of colorful and fruity tea, tapioca pearls and pieces of aloe sitting at the bottom.

*I'm glad to hear it~ And I'm happy for you all~

They said, setting the tray down and pulling out a clean white damp cloth to wipe up the salty tears on the table.

Spaul will get his head pat and ruffled, maybe a hug too if he wished, and maybe stick around to answer whatever questions the other addisons had.

Spaul and the others have broken out of their group hug by this point, now listening to the puppet as he explains what kinds of illegitimate products he’s been selling now. As Navy winces about the Broken Swords-the amount of shade he’s thrown their way!-that’s when Cerise comes over.

*Y-Y-Y3AH!! THEY DID!!! TH4NK U FOR [[family reunion]] CERISE!!

His cheeks turn pinker at Cerise’s head pat, and he leans into a hug from them, too. As thanks for being the in between between him and them. Next to them, Coral chuckles.

*…Yeah, everything’s good now. Thanks a bunch, Cerise; you’re not too bad.

Everyone takes their cups of fruity tea, taking their first sip together. It’s…amazing!

*What the hell?? This is great!! God, I need to stop here more often!

*…Do you…mind talking to us for a bit, Cerise? It’s perfectly fine if you have customers to take care of, of course…

#(annnnnd now they feel bad about soaking the table lol)#WANNA MAKE A [deal]?-asks and submissions #ONE WEIRD TIP-in character #CORAL-pink addison #NAVY-blue addison #CLEM-orange addison #STORY EVENT: The Reunion #sanguinehaven

0 notes

fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 6 years

Text

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 26 Reparations

***From angst to resolution...if things can be resolved. I have a certain love for the calm after the storm. With technical difficulties now taken care of, all of my accounts are up to date with current chapters and posting should be much easier! Woo! ~Let's Connect! FFC***

*Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Tagged Chapter Directory*

As his feet hit the ground, the thought struck him that she probably didn't want to be found - not by him anyway. Pure panic flowed in his veins. Breathe. Idiot. Breathe. Vanderwood was forcing himself to move - a gloved hand closing around the ring in his pocket. She was leaving him. Did he even deserve to find her? He wanted to make sure he found her - to make sure she was safe, to tell her it wasn't her fault. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to come back home with him. Or maybe it was better this way. He shook his head. No, he was going to find her and set things right. Vanderwood knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't live without her anymore - not anything that could be called living.

***

Cerise had no idea where she was even going to go. First, she’d headed to the park - sitting on the swing and leaning her head against the chain as the seat swung gently back and forth. There wasn't any real way she could describe how she was feeling. Hurt was only a small piece of the very messy puzzle - both the physical and the emotional pain. Cerise knew that he hadn't meant to hurt her wrists like he had, but the fact of the matter remained that it had still happened. It shouldn't have happened.

This man used to kill people for a living. She'd seen him so easily break someone's wrist on a whim. Couldn't things have gone so much worse? He had been right that night on the stairs all those months ago. What was she compared to someone who wanted something from her? He had demonstrated twice now that she was powerless. Cerise shook her head and sighed - warm puffs of breath visible in the cool air. It was going to be dark sooner or later, and that meant it would get colder. She stood up and began walking towards the shopping district.

Cerise didn't exactly wear the most functional of winter clothes, and in her haste, she hadn't grabbed an actual jacket to boot. Still, at least her arms were covered with the light jacket she had already been wearing. Even that wasn't going to do much good for her if it got colder. Luckily for her, she had stashed a pair of gloves into the pockets of that particular jacket. At least some luck was on her side.

She walked and walked, admiring all the colorful lights and decorations of the various shops. Everything was so festive and warm. People were so cheerful and welcoming if she decided to walk in and take a look around. It almost made her forget about her own troubles. In another stroke of luck, she had actually had her wallet on her from when she had to pay the delivery boy the rest of the money for the cake. She found a squishy little keychain of a new character that was so ridiculous that it was kind of endearing. Pastelle the Prissy Poo - it was so silly that she managed to giggle upon seeing the softly colored, glittery, anthropomorphic cartoon character of the poo emoji.

As she walked around, she kept one hand in her pocket squishing on her new treasure - finding it somewhat relaxing. Cerise stopped walking as she came across a heavily decorated cafe. There were lights in the window, a toy train, a Christmas tree, and tinsel - the whole nine yards. It looked like something straight out of a dream, and she couldn't help but find herself inside at a table looking at the menu.

The inside was decorated similarly - the atmosphere warm and inviting. Christmas music played in the background, and there was even a simulated fireplace with stockings hung over it. It put a smile on her face. As crappy as she felt, this was the type of thing that could still make her smile. In no time, one of the wait staff was at her table to take her order. Cerise looked her over; the woman was dressed in the cutest Christmas themed uniform, and not to mention, she was super nice. "What'll it be, sugarplum~?"

Cerise realized that she was staring at the woman and laughed awkwardly. “I’ll take a gingerbread hot cocoa and a slice of your special Christmas cheesecake.” What she needed right now was something sweet she could enjoy - to help take her mind off things. Before she knew it, her order was in front of her - delivered with a smile by the sugarplum waitress. The taste of the hot cocoa was like heaven, and it definitely warmed her to her core. It almost helped numb the emotional turmoil. Cerise shook her head again, trying to chase the thoughts away - push them into the back of her mind. That wasn't important right now. What was important was this adorable cheesecake in front of her that had gumdrops, little candy holly, other various candies, and sprinkles on it. Man, it tasted like heaven.

She almost didn't notice the sudden rush around her. It looked like the sugarplum waitress and an older man were practically running around trying to keep up. The place was packed now. Cerise really felt bad for them; they were such nice people. A thought crossed her mind. She wasn't really doing anything - didn't have anywhere to go...maybe she could help?

Cerise got up and made her way to the older man who was frantically trying to decorate an order of some sort. "Excuse me? Hi...I was wondering if you needed some help?" The man looked up in surprise. There was a strange air about him but not in a bad way. It was more whimsical than anything. "Oh! Don't worry, you don't have to pay me or anything...I just noticed you guys were busy, and I don't have anything to do. I'd really like to help you!" She bowed, trying to show some respect. Sometimes she forgot the cultural nuances when she was in Korea - bowing wasn't something they really did in Paris, but it felt appropriate now.

The man looked her over, seemingly deliberating. "What a nice young lady~ Who am I to deny such a heartfelt request?" He smiled at her - his eyes twinkling under the lights above him despite the rush he was in. "I don't have any extra uniforms on hand right now, but there's an apron behind the counter. If you could take orders, you can leave the rest to me."

Honestly, Cerise had never worked a day in her life. She didn't know how to take orders, but she was going to do the best she could for these people who seemed so warm and joyful even under stressful circumstances. She found the apron in question and put it on - taking a pad of paper and a pen that was in close proximity. Cerise found out from Ms. Sugarplum which tables she hadn't gotten to yet and decided to start there. She was a quick learner; she would get this. It was a welcome distraction from the train-wreck that was her life. As hours passed, she found herself actually having fun and laughing along with the owner and his daughter as well as the other customers - who obviously appreciated her efforts a Hell of a lot more than other people had that day.

***

He'd made it to the shopping district, chestnut-brown eyes scanning the area for any sign of his Cerise. Vanderwood had realized that he couldn't call her fiancée right now - a sting going through his heart. Every worst-case scenario that existed was flitting through his mind. Panic wasn't just a feeling; it was a living breathing entity that swallowed him whole, and he’d found himself running throughout the streets of Korea - full out running, bumping into a few people and then doing something he'd sure as Hell never done.

"Have you seen her?" He looked like a madman pushing his phone at strangers. "She's really short, super short, absolutely beautiful. Please tell me you've seen her!" Every person he tried was more intent on running away from him than helping him. A 6ft tall, dangerous-looking maniac. A young man was taking off from him again when Vanderwood plopped himself onto a bench, putting his head in his hands and sobbing.

His heart was being wrenched from his chest - his very soul being torn in two, and then he dropped his hands - looking ahead through the blur of his tears…There she was. She looked happy - smiling and talking to customers. Why was she in an apron? Seemed like she'd managed to get a job in a matter of hours. Vanderwood felt his breathing still. She was fine. Cerise was just fine without him. Maybe it was better if he waited for her shift to be over, gave her phone back, said his piece, and walked away. Just tell her it wasn't her fault - then, let her live her happy life. It was too late for him, but it wasn't for her.

Cerise could be happy without him. At least she wasn't choosing drugs like his mother - just a better life without him in it. He was crying again. It was really surreal. People always seemed to think that men didn't cry - that crying was a feminine phenomenon, yet he was one of the most masculine guys on the planet. He snorted at himself - ever the cynical asshole. Always a cynical asshole. Vanderwood looked up to see her again - the smile on her face, and it was like a shard of glass had lodged itself in his chest. He couldn't sit and wait here; he couldn't. It hurt too much. People be damned. World be damned. God or whatever was out there be damned.

Vanderwood’s breath left his body in a rush, and then he was up and running again - into a café covered in Christmas decorations. Uncaring of the people around, he grabbed Cerise up into his arms and held her tightly as he buried his face in her hair. Was that the smartest choice when she was probably terrified of him now - wanted nothing to do with him? No, but he was too busy sobbing into her hair. There was a constant stream of, “I'm sorry,” leaving his lips between the sharp intakes of breath his sobs were causing.

She had barely noticed Vanderwood rush in due to talking to one of the few customers left in the café before she’d been swept up in his arms. It took a moment for her brain to process what was going on. Vanderwood was here in the café. How had he even found her? Right...former secret agent. Her body tensed up automatically, and her wrist suddenly felt like it was on fire - a not-so-gentle reminder of what had happened earlier.

Cerise wasn't sure how she was supposed to react. She wanted to cry; she wanted to be angry - to lash out at him, but that wouldn't make her any better than he had been. It was impossible to find the words to say as he sobbed into her hair - apologizing to her over and over. How was she supposed to react? Her chest felt tight, her heart hurt deeply, but she just didn't know what to do...What was happening right now? Was this even real...?

Her eyes followed him as he collapsed to his knees in front of her. By now people were staring. She was probably causing trouble for the owner. Cerise flashed the man an apologetic look - earning an understanding nod. All she wanted was to cry, to tell him that it was okay - to forgive him. That was what her heart was telling her. The words were in her mind. Even so, Cerise knew that he had a problem - knew that it ran deeper than she had imagined. Things could have gone much, much worse for her, and she wouldn't have been able to stop it. She considered herself an understanding person, but there was only so much she could take - only so much she could have tried to break a barrier that he didn't want to be broken.

Cerise’s voice was a soft murmur. "Let's...go over here." With little effort, she was able to urge him into a nearby booth where she sat opposite of him. Ms. Sugarplum quickly brought over some coffee and put a cup in front of each of them, leaving with a concerned smile. All Cerise could do was stare at the broken man in front of her as she absentmindedly rubbed at her wrists. He had moved along with her with seemingly no struggle at all, even. Seeing him weak and dejected just seemed so wrong. She could at least hear him out.

Vanderwood knew he looked like an idiot, and he was just causing problems for her again, too. He wasn't one to act out like this - certainly not for an audience, but too late now. What was most important was that he told her what had happened, that he explained to her the truth about why his birthday and Christmas were so painful for him, and why it wasn't her fault. Vanderwood sat hunched over in the booth - barely able to meet her eyes as he tore his gaze away from the table.

"When I turned six years old, my mother said she was coming for Christmas. I sat in front of the tree with Caleb for four hours before Caleb fell asleep in my lap and dad went to bed. I woke up the next morning, and she still wasn't there. Turns out she got so high that she forgot or just couldn't make it. Either way, she chose drugs over me on Christmas." He had to pause, taking a breath - feeling winded and his throat raw from the crying.

It was all bubbling out now - too fast to even notice the way she was rubbing at her wrist. "On my seventh birthday, I waited all day for my dad to remember. I thought he was kidding around, had some surprise for me...but nothing happened. Mom was supposed to come again, and I waited...I guess she forgot, too, because when the doorbell rang, it was dad's friends. I put Caleb to bed, and when I came back downstairs..." His voice broke, and he had to shove the rest of the words out like he was pulling a tooth without medication. "My birthday present was finding out what your dad shooting up heroine looks like."

Cerise was silent still as she listened to him - nursing on her cup of coffee. It was a lot to take in; there were a lot of walls coming down. It wasn't the ideal situation or place, but he was finally telling her why he had been so grumpy, so distant - colder than the air outside. Hearing everything just made her hurt more, although almost in another direction. He had been dealt such a bad hand - both him and his brother. It was really no wonder to her that he could be so cold and rough on the outside.

Vanderwood hung his head in shame again as the memory of the way she'd looked at him from beneath him after his snap came back - far more painful than even the childhood ones. "I was trying to shut those memories out - completely shutting myself down...when I...when I treated you like..." He simply couldn't say it; he just couldn't. Bloody Hell, what a fucking prissy ass wimp he was. "I told you to get away from me, because I didn't want to hurt you any further or go down that slippery slope of sex. You are so much more than that to me. You're the only truly beautiful thing I've had in my life for almost a decade. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you were doing everything right. Granted, I don't like being woken up, you almost lit the house on fire, and there were sparkles bloody everywhere, but you cared so much more than any other human being ever has - even my parents. You are quite literally the best thing that ever happened to me...I just couldn't handle it."

So many words, so much to say, Vanderwood just kept going, because if he stopped, it wasn't going to come again. He would just be walling up all over again, and nothing would be different. She needed to know everything - whether she was going or staying. Cerise needed to know. "I'm so much better since I met you, but I'm still a broken man, and I...forgot that I needed to watch myself. I forgot that I'm an addict. I've been doing so well that I've been laboring under the delusion that love is a miracle cure, but it isn't...It's the support that I need to reach being healthy, but as magical as it feels - it isn't the cure. I was stupid. I didn't pay attention, and I should have told you everything from the beginning. This...it's all my fault...and I can't ask you to forgive me, because I wouldn't deserve it. I just wanted to be happy, and I didn't want to ruin all the hard work you went through to make this day something other than the pain it's always been...so I didn't tell you...and I didn't tell you when it was getting to be too much...and I'm sorry, Cerise. I'm so sorry."

Cerise couldn’t quite come up with her own response yet - still trying to sus everything out for herself. It comforted her to know that he hadn't been telling her to leave because he had actually wanted her to, but because he recognized what was going on with himself and didn't want to put her through anything worse. He hadn't trusted himself; he was trying to protect her. She had also been living under the delusion that love was the cure for everything - that that alone could fix everything just like in the movies. Life didn't work that way. Life was a big, fat, bully full of harsh realities.

She was young and didn't have a lot of life experience. For all intents and purposes, she shouldn't get involved with him again. They should just go their own separate ways. Cerise was way too young and inexperienced to be what he needed her to be for him. Maybe he was too broken to be fixed. It was delusional of her to think she could turn around so many years of pain that ran much deeper than she had known.

Vanderwood couldn’t stand the silence - waiting for her to tell him what she wanted to do, that she couldn’t forgive him, just anything. He felt like a failure - like far more than a failure. It was getting to the point where the talking was just as painful as the silence. Reaching into his pocket, he removed her phone and lightly pushed it towards her on the table. "You'll...need this...if you go..." The ring came out next, but he left that in the palm of his gloved hand - the rose gold standing out against the harsh black leather. "You...probably don't want this...That's why you left it, right?"

Moment of truth, a doomed half-life without her or picking up the pieces. His eyes slowly met hers again - chestnut-brown to honey-gold as he closed his fingers around the ring. "Just tell me, and I'm gone. I won't so much as breathe your name." Although, because of how completely insane he was, he would probably follow her to the ends of the Earth - watching like some fucked up version of a guardian angel. If he had the energy, he would have snorted at himself. Bloody cynical asshole.

Her eyes locked with his - those chestnut-brown eyes that she loved so much. The look in his them was pained but full of so many other emotions. She couldn't pick them all out. He did care, and he was sincere. She could see it. Tears began to well up in her eyes again. Too bad she loved him way too much to let him go - to let him continue to suffer alone. There was no way she could bear being apart from him. They needed each other - as broken as he was and as inexperienced and young as she was. She could have handled this so much better, like the adult she was supposed to be. They both could have handled this situation better, but that was part of life, too.

"Marion..." She hadn't meant for his name to escape her lips, but it had, and now the tears were spilling over and running down her face as she began to sob. Cerise found herself moving out of her side of the booth and all but throwing herself into his arms - sobbing into his chest. She needed him; she would always need him. Obviously, neither of them was perfect, and they still had a lot to learn about each other and themselves. For better or for worse - that's what she was promising him when she had agreed to marry him. There were things she could have probably said = like apologizing for going too overboard and for running off instead of trying to calm down and understand. Sometimes she felt like she was still a kid. There was no doubt in her mind that she still had some growing up to do. All that she could get out was that she wanted him to stay - just like she had after that first kiss. "Stay...please stay."

He tensed as her tears began - his entire being in pain to the point that even breathing was a struggle. Vanderwood was fully expecting her to turn him away. That was what he deserved and what was best for her. His heart tore at the sound of her sobbing. Vanderwood held her tightly to him as she cried. She was asking him to stay…She wanted him to stay. He buried his face in her hair; it was all he could do to keep from starting to cry again himself. Damn, it was a good thing she hadn't cut it weeks before. Cynical asshole. He held her tighter.

Even with what he'd done, she wanted him to stay. Then, he would stay, but he would be damned if he didn't do a better job. "Let's do Christmas...the lights, the decorations, the tree...everything. I want to do everything with you." Words were just coming again, but at least this time it was a positive thing. "New memories...with the woman who loves me like no one else...If that's what you want, too." She was trying to calm herself down when he pulled back and cupped her face in his hand. He wanted to celebrate Christmas with her - the right way. Cerise had stopped full on sobbing, but she couldn't help the tears that were still coming down as he brushed them away with his thumb.

"I love you...I want this happy life with you. I promise this time...this time, I'll tell you what's going on in my head." Should he kiss her? He sure as Hell wanted to, and he didn't care whether people were watching. Fuck, he hadn't scanned the room even this entire time, but he was too busy staring into her eyes to be bothered. What a useless agent he would be right now. Good thing he wasn't one anymore - thanks to her. Better to wait...hear her answer first before he did anything.

All she had wanted was to understand him, to get him to talk to her and let her in. He had told her once that he would try, but it had still been hard for him. Now he was promising her. "Yes...I'd really like that." Cerise managed a small smile. She would do her best to try and not overwhelm him - maybe ask him how he felt before she went all out; she could at least do that for him. "I love you too, ma moitié..." Cerise had long ago forgotten all about the people in the room with them. It didn't matter. She'd make it up to the nice man and his daughter somehow, but for right now, she was just a little lost in his eyes. He very much so looked like he wanted to kiss her - which was fine by her, because that's what she wanted, too. Cerise closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against his.

Just like when they'd first started their relationship, she was the one to remove the space between them. Vanderwood held her to him as he kissed her back - nothing rough, but the kind of kiss that made it seem like the world had stopped spinning. Why did it feel like she was putting his heart and soul back together? That's exactly what she was doing. When the kiss ended, he pressed another to her forehead as she nuzzled into him. "Ma moitié..."

Now he finally scanned the room, and there were quite a few onlookers - each averting their gaze when his swept over them. Was he really that frightening after sobbing like a child in the middle of the place? Apparently, yeah. He shifted to open his hand - looking at the ring that had left a small indent in the leather of his gloves and showing it to her. "I'm going to keep this...for now...and I'll propose to you again...um if you'd like that." That was a cheesy thing to do, but it seemed fitting. Maybe this time he'd remember the right words in French. There was another part of him that wanted to whisk her away and say, ‘Marry me right now.’ But that must just have been from the rush of relief he was feeling.

She hadn’t cared to look around herself but turned to eye her ring as it sparkled in the light. He wanted to propose to her again; he was such a cheese-master, but she couldn't complain. Nodding, she gave a brief, “Mhm,” as confirmation. Vanderwood felt like he could finally breathe again. The world seemed more peaceful to him now - quiet. Every time he told her what was on his mind, it seemed like he was lighter - like living was easier, even if it hurt like Hell coming out. So...maybe he was on the right track.

He wasn't about to drop his guard like he had earlier. "Do you...want to come home now?" Could he trust himself in a bedroom with her...Yeah, but he wasn't going to do anything other than holding her - for tonight at least. Best to be on the safe side. Cerise let out a tired sigh of relief - feeling like all of the stress had washed off her rather suddenly. "Yeah. Please, let's do that." She was exhausted - both physically and mentally.

Cerise pulled on Marion’s hand as they were walking out, going to the old man and his daughter to thank them and apologize for the chaos she might have caused. Vanderwood made his own apologies to the owner and waitress. He was awkward and stiff about it, but it was the right thing to do - even if interpersonal stuff wasn't his forté. They assured that it was no problem and had even asked if they could call her if they ever needed the help. She was more than happy to give them her number. The old man sent them off with to-go boxes of something he had insisted on making for them. It looked to be a pasta of sorts from the glimpse she got before he closed the box. That was good, because she was starving, and she was sure that Marion had to be, too. He was probably way too tired himself to cook.

Vanderwood tucked the to-go boxes under one arm - wondering where he'd even put Cerise's dinner plate down from earlier before he went out the window. It was going to be freezing in the house. He wrapped his other arm around Cerise as they walked - in part because he needed the contact, but also to keep her warm. She never seemed to dress for the weather. It was surprising to see she had her gloves with her, but that had probably been sheer luck - knowing her.

Looking up at the stars, he snorted softly. "You know...where I lived in Britain, the ground would be covered in slush right now, but in all the time I've been in Korea, I've maybe seen it snow once. I kind of miss that." Once the floodgates were opened, apparently sharing got easier. "That sounds pretty...it didn't really snow in Paris. If it did, it never stuck." There was a small smile on her face as he shared just a small piece of his life with her...something normal and small, but just as important to her. Vanderwood looked down at her with a small smile in return.

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before he let go as they reached her house, pausing before opening the door. There were thoughts burning on the tip of his tongue, and it was best to share them. "Thank you...for everything you did today. I'm sorry it became...the mess it became..." She'd done so much work, and he'd wanted to appreciate it all earlier but couldn't, because he was so busy trying to keep his feelings under wraps. Cerise shook her head in response. "I should have checked with you to see how much you could handle...You did warn me before that you wouldn't be in a good mood on your birthday. I should have been more sensitive." She looked to the ground, kicking her feet a little. "There are things we both could have done differently, you know?"

That was something he wasn’t going to argue. Still, he was impressed by her. He’d always known she was strong - always known she was maturing. Cerise had proved not only her strength to him today but her ability to grow, too. Even if he thought he didn’t deserve that she was doing so much for him. “You’re amazing; you know that?” She looked up, flashing him a little smile. "Yeah...amazingly cold." Cerise tried joking, poking at him a little. "Let's get inside where it's warmer?"

***

They’d chowed down on the food the café owner had made them, Cerise feeling slightly guilty as she saw Vanderwood putting away food that he’d made earlier. It was just like him to make food for the both of them even if they were fighting. As she looked in the bathroom mirror, she could see that her eyes were still a little red from crying. They would look perfectly bright and cute in the morning.

She threw on her pajamas - quickly brushing her teeth so she could get to bed faster. It wasn’t normal for her to forego her nightly routine, but she was just so exhausted. The bed looked so inviting. Sooner or later, he'd wander in and join her, so she decided to get on her phone to wait. The angle that she tried to hold it at was a little uncomfortable. It hadn't really bothered her before, but that's when she noticed that her wrists had bruised darkly from when he had grabbed her earlier.

It was all an accident. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Sure, she knew her wrists hurt a bit, but she didn't think they'd gotten bruised. She rubbed at the left one - which was the worst of the two and sighed. If he saw this...she really didn't want to make things worse than they had been. Cerise plugged her phone in and decided to lay on her stomach with her arms under the pillow. She didn't think she could hide it from him for forever, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with it that night. "Marion? Are you coming to bed?"

He'd finished up the dishes rather quickly - standing outside by the door to the bedroom as he took a moment to be by himself. Was he absolutely certain he wasn't going to behave like he had earlier today? Vanderwood heard her call for him, replying immediately. "Yeah, just a second." He felt fine...other than being exhausted, so yeah, he was fine. Vanderwood opened the door and laid his jacket on top of the dresser for now before grabbing his pajama pants from off the floor. He'd thrown them on the floor and not in the hamper - a testament to how freaked he’d been. The way she was positioned wasn’t lost on him - making him tilt his head at her. That was...a new one?

After ducking into the bathroom, he went through his usual routine in the exact same way he did every day. The repetition was comforting for his OCD - giving him some semblance of control after a day with virtually everything going wrong. Now that he was more right in the head, everything ended up neatly placed in the hamper like it was supposed to. He crawled into bed and reached for her to pull her against his chest like usual, but it seemed like she was a little reluctant to get out of her current position. Had he scared her that badly that she didn't want to sleep against his chest? It would make sense.

Vanderwood bit at his tongue for a moment as he relinquished his hold on her waist, moving to lay on his own side and staring at the ceiling before he remembered that he was supposed to say what was on his mind. "Are you afraid of me now?" She mumbled softly that she wasn’t, but he couldn't blame her if she was. Vanderwood had told her before that not watching his strength was a dangerous game, and he doubted he'd been watching it when he'd pinned her. Wait...his breath stilled, he rolled once more onto his side, and chestnut-brown eyes met honey-gold - pleading for an answer. "Did I hurt you?" The way she was laying her hands under the pillow in front of her - it was like she was hiding something. Guilt was already washing through him again - already knowing the answer. "Please...Cerise...show me..."

Cerise was kicking herself that she had tried to pull away from him. The man was too perceptive, and she should have been more careful to act normal if she was actually going to hide this from him. As he caught her eyes, asking if he had hurt her, it made her chest twist up into a knot. She had hoped that he wouldn't notice for at least that night; she should have just acted normally. It wasn't like she could just tell him 'no'. Not when he looked like this. Cerise felt like he probably already knew the answer to his own question anyways. Slowly, she turned over onto her side - averting her eyes as she held her hands out to him.

A sharp intake of breath was the only sound as he took her hands in his - his eyes taking in the dark bruising. Her left wrist was much worse, but that observation didn't make him feel any better. "Cerise..." He lightly ran his thumbs over the bruises before he bent his head to brush his lips over them. In his head, he was wondering what he could do to make it better - at least to make them not hurt so much. Vanderwood knew her pain tolerance, but he also knew her medication intolerance. Surely a numbing cream would go over fine. She couldn't get high from that.

He let go of her hands to dig for his kit under her bed - finding what he needed quickly. "This won't hurt...and it won't get you worked up either. It'll just numb any pain." Cerise nodded, trusting he knew what he was talking about. Even if it could affect her, she'd be asleep soon anyway. She still couldn't bring herself to look his way - not because she was scared of him or anything, but she didn't want to see his reactions to this. Cerise couldn't bring herself to look at the hurt in his eyes. This was something she knew he was going to beat himself up over.

At the moment, he wasn't touching on how guilty he was feeling - more worried about making sure he could help her feel better. Almost as soon as he had the cream on his fingers and was lightly brushing it over her bruising, though, there was a lump in his throat as his voice cracked. "I really hurt you..." Bloody Hell, he felt like shit. He'd bruised the love of his life. Fantastic. That was just...never again. He'd sworn never again with that first kiss, but this was a whole different ballpark. This...never again. Vanderwood would rather shoot himself in the foot.

"It's...it looks a lot worse than it feels, really." She felt like his birthday was memorable in all the wrong ways. They both definitely had a lot of things they needed to work on when it came to themselves and each other. Cerise knew that from now on, he would probably be extra careful when it came to his recovery. For her side, she would know that when he said he needed to be alone - it wasn't because he didn't want her around. This sort of thing would never happen again, and she knew it; she trusted him.

She still wasn't looking at him. Cerise had said she wasn't scared of him, but the way she was avoiding his gaze made him doubt that. "This won't happen again." His voice was a little harsh as he said it, and that just made him worry more. Vanderwood bit his tongue before he decided he had to know - slipping his fingers under her chin to tip it. "Please, Cerise...look at me and tell me you're not afraid of me. I want to be sure." Relationships were far more complicated than his life before.

Cerise let her eyes fall on his face at his urging - looking into his worried eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, Marion..." The cream he had put on her wrists did help the pain, but it wasn't very prominent in the first place. It only hurt if she tried to squeeze it or she was holding her hands in an awkward way. Cerise tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it probably came out all tired looking. She certainly felt tired, and her feet were killing her. All that running around and waitressing really took it out of her - not to mention the emotional parts of it all. "Tomorrow's a new day." Cerise cuddled back into the bed and towards him, so he could easily hold her if he wanted to. "So, let's get some rest, ya know?"

His eyes had searched hers, and she was telling the truth. "Okay...yeah." Once again, he pulled her hands to his lips - brushing feather light kisses over her wrists, so soft he wasn't even sure if she could feel it. "A new day with new memories - just for you and me." A little cheesiness to fall asleep with. Vanderwood pulled her close against his chest - taking the offered invitation and placing her where she belonged. "I love you, shortcake." He nuzzled into her hair, his voice coming up much smaller than usual - like it had a few times already that day. "Thank you...for not leaving me." He had some bloody major abandonment issues, but he'd be lying if he said he was surprised. Cerise barely heard him, lightly nodding before she completely conked out - dead to the world.

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artyblogs · 6 years

Text

Launch Date ch 11 Carry That Weight

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Riyo

Launch Date summary: In which Ahsoka mistakes Riyo for an office secretary, Riyo is sometimes too gay to function, and R7-A7 is determined to be a trollish kark.

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Chapter Summary: The Force cracks wide open, as easily as a piñata, as devastating as a skull.

It takes Magnus and Riyo one hour by pickup speeder to reach the outskirts of civilization, and another half hour to drive past all the permafrost farmland that rings around that. The land that stretches out afterwards is thick with forest.

During a Snow Walk, people go out in the wilderness and survive of a few days. They put themselves at the mercy of the Blizzard God. Snow Walks can last between two days to one whole standard year, and male Pantorans earn the right to their first tattoos after the completion of their first Snow Walk.

Hardcore Pantorans do Snow Walks out in the tundra, but these are the same people who do them while equipped with only a hand-blaster, a knife, and the clothes on their back. People attempting these kinds of Snow Walks for the first time are usually brought into hospitals; trapped in pseudo-hibernations. Some don’t recover.

There’s no way Magnus is taking Riyo on a Snow Walk that intense. He’s too old, and as capable as Riyo is, she doesn’t know how to start a fire from scratch. So they’re here in the forest, and in the back of the speeder are two survival kits, one for Magnus, and one for Riyo.

The two Pantorans are dressed in tough pants, boots, and sleeveless shirts, putting their tattoos on display. Like how a few Pantorans can read tattoos like text, so can the Gods. It’s polite to introduce yourself whenever you go into someone else’s house, so Snow Walkers keep their tattoos uncovered so that the Blizzard God knows exactly who they are. Magnus, who has full chest and back tattoos that tell about his decorated military service, sheds his shirt as soon as they exit the speeder.

Riyo hefts her pack over her shoulders. The woods are deep and solemn. Pristine snow dusts the ground and the trees like powdered sugar. Magnus locks the speeder, then leads the way into the forest. They walk in silence for a few minutes, navigating between tall, frozen boulders, over fallen trees, and around other obstacles.

“Where are we?” Riyo asks.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“That’ll do.” Magnus stops in the middle of a clearing and takes off his pack. He kneels with it on the ground, opens it up, and takes out a thermos, and two sets of tracking devices. Magnus unscrews the lid off the thermos, letting out a cloud of steam. He drinks from it then hands it to Riyo. She swirls the contents and smells herbs and something musty.

“What kind of tea is this?” she asks.

“Frost Shield,” Magnus says. She freezes.

“How much do I drink?”

“Not all of it. Not just a sip either. As much as you want.”

Riyo lifts the thermos to her lips and takes a couple gulps of tea. It’s bitter and earthy and she grimaces as she lowers the thermos and screws the cap back on.

“Now what?”

Magnus clips one tracker to his belt and gives the output to Riyo, then he clips the other tracker to the collar of her shirt.

“Just in case,” he says. “Remember to be honest.” He frowns as he looks over Riyo’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She asks.

“I saw something move,” Magnus says. Riyo turns to look, but sees nothing.

“It’s the tea,” Riyo says, but Magnus picks up his pack and steps around her to investigate.

“Of course it’s the tea, but it don’t mean whatever you see isn’t important. If I don’t come back in five minutes, then it’s alright. You have my tracker and you have a comlink.”

“You’re leaving me here?”

“I’ll be….” Magnus trails off and looks into the forest again. “I’ll be back for you.” And with that, he slips between the trees and disappears.

For one moment, Riyo feels cheated. She looks at the thermos in her hand and wonders why she isn’t feeling or seeing anything. At least she isn’t nauseous.

The world tilts and rushes up to meet her. She bursts through the surface of the ground the same way one would fall into a swimming pool and tumbles around, weightless, in the dark. It feels like she’s spinning around in her own skull, like she’s been wearing her body all of her life, but can’t really escape it, and so she sinks deeper into the infinite recesses of her mind instead.

The darkness doesn’t last. Vague flickers of sensation and emotion fire around her in a confusing mix of sound and color. She doesn’t know how she’s seeing or hearing anything without any eyes or ears, but supposes that she’ll miss the point if she dwells too much on technicalities.

The heart monitor flatlines. A younger and smaller Riyo watches the straight line on the monitor and is consumed by how unfair this all this. What will she do now?

An older Riyo holds her hands out to a pretty, red Twi’lek girl, only to have her shy away from her touch.

“Cerise, please.” Riyo says, even though there’s nothing she can do to keep this from happening.

“You keep publishing those damning articles of yours and they’ll come for you,” the Twi’lek says. “You know it. I know it, and I can’t be a part of it anymore. I’m sorry, Riyo.”

But she’s more scared than she’s sorry. Riyo turns away.

“I’d die for our people.” Cho wheezes; that Talz spear must have went right through his lung. “I’d…die….”

Riyo’s thrown for a loop, and when she slows to a stop, she’s lying on a cold, metal table.

Don’t look.

Riyo shuts her eyes and presses back into the table as the flat of a blade taps against the underside of her chin, keeping her from turning away. She gets the sudden urge to talk and quickly.

“I couldn’t stop Chairman Cho from dying,” she says. “I’m not a warrior; my hands were not made for fighting. My weapons are words, and he refused to listen to me.”

The presence in front of her shifts and the blade disappears from her throat. A light shines into her face and she opens her eyes. Someone looms over her, their face hidden in shadow.

“Is she yours to give?” they ask.

Before Riyo can answer, she falls up off the table, out of the room, back into her mind and then up to the tangible world. The surface of the ground solidifies under her, leaving her lying there in the clearing in the forest, breathless.

Above her, Magnus swims into focus and he sits back, relieved. “There you are.”

“Magnus? This is real now?”

“So you saw things?”

“I think He hates me,” Riyo says.

“If He hated you, you would’ve overdosed on that tea,” Magnus says. He offers Riyo a hand and pulls her to her feet. “What did you see?”

“A parade of bad memories. Just one right after the other.”

“That’s how He knows how tough someone is.”

“And I saw…something else. I can’t explain it.”

“He gave you a warning then,” Magnus says. “He must have thought you could handle it.”

BEEP.

Magnus’s comlink lights up and he unclips it from his belt.

“It’s Ahsoka’s droid,” he says as he takes the call.

The forest is filled with R7’s panicked screaming.

Riyo stands at the foot of Ahsoka’s hospital bed, watching. Ahsoka is still unconscious, a ventilator mask pulled over her face. A thin tube snakes in under the collar of her hospital scrubs and roots in her chest. This tube drips fresh Bacta directly into her wound through the sanitized Bata patch. Riyo covers her mouth with a trembling hand and tries to keep despair from welling up in her throat.

“Senator Chuchi?” The doctor, a muscular Pantoran with tattoos covering even their fingers and palms, steps into the room with a data pad.

“Uh.” Riyo quickly wipes her eyes on the heel of her hand. “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Jago. Ahsoka Tano was assigned to my care.” The doctor steps closer, their voice careful and concerned.

“Hello, Doctor. How…how is she?”

“It looks a lot worse than it is. Usually, when patients come in with sternal injuries, they also come in with internal injuries as well. That was not the case with your friend. A large part of her sternum was missing, so we cloned a replacement bone and fit it in with the remains of the original, like a jigsaw puzzle. Then we reattached all the muscles and tendons. The Bacta should knit everything together overnight and once that’s done, she should be able to breathe on her own, so we’ll take her off of the ventilation machine.”

Riyo says nothing.

“Is she Force-sensitive?” Dr. Jago asks.

“Yes, does that help?”

“I’ve treated Force-sensitives before and in my experience, they’re very hardy. Her recuperation period will be incredibly short compared to non-sensitives.”

“When will she wake up?”

“The anesthesia we used during surgery will wear off soon, so she should wake up either later today or tomorrow. If she’s feeling a lot of pain, then let a nurse know and we’ll get her on morphine.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Riyo says. Dr. Jago puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Senator. She’s a tough, young woman and she’ll come around.” Dr. Jago turns and leaves the room, leaving Riyo alone with Ahsoka.

Riyo pulls the visitor’s chair closer to the bed, then sits down. The only sounds in the room are the small beeps of the heart monitor and the steady pumps of the breathing machine. Riyo covers her eyes with a hand and sighs.

The door whooshes open.

“Magnus,” Riyo says, “please, not now.”

“Is that your bodyguard’s name?”

Riyo almost falls out of the chair at the sound of Asajj Ventress’s voice. Asajj oozes danger and grace, with a pointed jawline that’s liable to cut. She sinks into another visitor’s chair that’s tucked into the corner of the room.

“Stop cringing, Senator, I’m not here to hurt you,” Asajj says as she crosses her long legs.

“How can I believe that? You and Ahsoka have a complicated past.”

“I saved Ahsoka’s life. If she dies, I don’t get paid.”

“I forgot; you’re a bounty hunter now. So you went with Ahsoka to Malachor?”

“Yes. The credits made it worth my while.”

“How could you let this happen?”

Asajj sneers. “Excuse you? This was not my fault.”

Riyo opens her mouth to say something, but Asajj cuts her off. “Hush! I will not be lectured to. I understand that I’m an easy target for you to pile your frustrations on, but it does not mean I will tolerate such treatment.”

Riyo almost spits, but turns away and takes a calming breath.

“So Ahsoka almost got a boob sliced off,” Asajj says. “It happens to the best of us. What matters is that she’s here, isn’t she? What matters is that she’s alive.”

“But it’s all about the credits to you, isn’t it? Do you even care what happens to her?”

Asajj and Riyo stare at each other with narrowed eyes for a moment.

“No,” Asajj finally says. Riyo tilts her head.

“Ventress, you…?”

“I said ‘no!’” Asajj says. She shifts in her seat. “I couldn’t care less!”

The both of them fall into a stunned silence. Asajj’s ice blue eyes snap back up to Riyo’s.

“Not a word,” she says. Riyo jerks her head in a way that could be taken for a nod.

“These are hers.” Asajj unclips Ahsoka’s lightsabers from her belt and levitates them across the room to Riyo. They drop into Riyo’s hands and she gasps in surprise.

“What is it?” Asajj asks.

Riyo hefts the lightsabers. “They’re heavy.”

Asajj rolls her eyes at Riyo’s pitiful upper body strength. “All lightsabers are heavy. My last lightsaber was three pounds at least, and that one was on the smaller end of the scale.”

“But she handles them like they weigh nothing.” Riyo pulls open a bedside table drawer to find Ahsoka’s clothes and belongings. She places the lightsabers over Ahsoka’s dress, then rummages a little more. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she turns back to Asajj.

“Do you have the Sith holocron?”

“I do.” Asajj reaches into her tabard and takes it out. “Ahsoka mentioned needing knowledge of this Darth Plagueis ‘for a friend.’ I don’t suppose you know who this friend of hers is?”

“No,” Riyo says, still staring at the holocron. There’s something unnerving about it.

“Oh, so you do know,” Asajj says.

Riyo glares. “Don’t read my mind.”

“So if Ahsoka’s still not awake by the time her friend calls, then you can tell them what I found,” Asajj says, totally ignoring Riyo’s request. She holds the holocron in both hands and shifts in her chair, getting comfortable. “I suggest you be quiet while I do this.”

Riyo nods and lowers her hand over Ahsoka’s. Satisfied, Asajj closes her eyes and begins to meditate. A chill goes up Riyo’s spine, and she ducks closer to Ahsoka. She gets the immediate impression that although she doesn’t know what’s happening, she must not look away, not even for a second. If she does, then Asajj, and the Sith holocron that levitates in her hands, will somehow gut her and Ahsoka both.

The corners of the holocron turn and split from the main part, and the light trapped inside escapes and throws angry red light all over the hospital room. Asajj doesn’t seem to notice and stays silent and still.

After a few minutes, Asajj shudders and closes the holocron. The red light vanishes, and Riyo straightens up. Asajj places the holocron on the small table at the foot of Ahsoka’s bed, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I need a damn drink after that. Do you want to know what I’ve found?”

“Yes,” Riyo says.

Asajj tells her, then sweeps out of the room to get her drink. Riyo grips Ahsoka’s hand a little tighter and eyes the Sith Holocron with unmitigated fear.

BEEP.

That’s Ahsoka’s comlink. Riyo opens the drawer and searches for the correct gauntlet, then takes the call. Anakin Skywalker’s bust appears in the holocomlink.

“Anakin,” Riyo says.

“Riyo,” Anakin says. There are shadows under his eyes and sparse stubble along his upper lip and chin. “I sensed something in the Force from Ahsoka. Is she alright?”

“She’s….” Suddenly feeling rather spiteful, Riyo moves the comlink closer to Ahsoka, so that it’ll pick up her image. Anakin gasps and Riyo moves the comlink back to herself.

“I know you were desperate. I know there was no other way for you to get your information. But this is the last time you send her to that place.”

“I didn’t mean….”

“You sent her alone! She had to get help from Asajj Ventress.”

“She what?”

“Ventress said it wasn’t her fault, and you know what? She might be right. It should have been you with her; you two always protect each other. You could have done it. You could have found a way.”

“I can’t just leave Padmé,” Anakin says. “Not now. She needs me too.”

Padmé, of course. How could Riyo forget? All the fight goes out of her, and her shoulders sag.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Riyo whispers. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Anakin’s eyes soften. “No, you’re fine. I kind of deserve that. I put Ahsoka in this situation. I’m sorry too.”

“Ahsoka’s actually already finished with surgery. The doctor said she’d be alright.”

“That’s good. I mean, good that she’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Riyo says. “Do you want to know about Darth Plagueis?”

“Ventress opened the Holocron?”

“Yes. She’s not here right now, but she told me what she found.” Riyo takes a breath to steel herself. “There is a Sith healing technique that revolves around pain and hatred. It’s not sustainable, and according to Ventress, it’s not as potent as the Jedi technique, because the Dark Side excels at destruction, not creation.”

“Oh.” Anakin looks down, disappointed.

“Anakin, please. I’m…there’s more.”

“What is it?”

“The only example Ventress could find of a Sith bringing a person back to life was Darth Sion. His agony was so great that he used it to fuel his focus of the Dark Side and used it to keep his dead body together so that he could possess it. He possessed his own corpse.”

Anakin stares.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry, Riyo. I’m processing all this.”

“I must ask: are you planning on pursuing this line of knowledge?”

“No! No.” Anakin shudders. “No. That’s not the kind of power I want.”

“Whoever told you about Darth Plagueis must have lied to you.”

“Yeah.” Anakin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I realize that.”

“What are you going to do? Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, that’s none of my business.”

“No, I made it your business when I sent your girlfriend to Malachor. I’m going to warn the Jedi Council about the Sith Lord, and the Council can take it from there.”

Riyo pauses as her mind immediately comes up with five different questions. She decides to go with the least probing one. “You’re not going to do more?”

“Padmé and I are in hiding right now. From the Chancellor, from the Jedi Order, from everyone. It’s actually kind of nice. It’s like we’re on vacation, but not really.”

“That explains your face,” Riyo says.

“You noticed?” Anakin rubs his pitiful facial hair. “Yeah, it’ll help people from recognizing me. Nice, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Riyo lies. “How’s Padmé?”

Anakin beams. “She’s doing great! A little restless though. She’s not used to not doing any work.”

The door slides open and Asajj walks in carrying a bottle of liquor.

“Skywalker?”

“Ventress.”

“If there’s a story behind all this, I don’t want to know.” Asajj settles back in her chair. “You look like poodoo.”

She’s not wrong. Soon-to-be fathers often look like poodoo and Anakin isn’t an exception, with the shadows under his eyes and his rumpled hair. Amazingly, though, he smiles.

“Say what you like, Ventress. Ahsoka’s alive, Padmé’s alive. What more can I want?”

Asajj rolls her eyes as she takes another swig. “Spare me your sentimentality.”

“I’ll call tomorrow, Riyo.”

“Alright.”

Anakin hangs up. Riyo lowers the gauntlet and turns to Asajj, who offers her the bottle.

“You look like you need it too.”

Riyo takes the bottle. “This does not make us friends.”

Asajj has the gall to laugh in her face. She kicks her boots up onto the table and picks up the remote for the holoscreen bolted to the corner of the hospital room. “Whatever you say, Senator.”

She takes the screen off mute and changes the channel.

Anakin Skywalker’s picture is all over the HNN. Underneath is the caption: Jedi General Missing.

“Oh Gods, he is in hiding,” Riyo says. Anakin’s picture is minimized to the corner, revealing the news anchor.

“Have any information about his whereabouts, please contact the Jedi Order at this comlink number. Joining me now is our panel of experts, thank you for being here tonight. I have to ask: Republic forces are spread thin across the galaxy, is it wise to divert manpower from the war effort in order to look for one Jedi?”

“One man? No. But we’re talking about Anakin Skywalker, an incredibly capable Jedi Knight.”

“Boring,” Asajj says. She changes the channel.

CLICK.

"Her whereabouts are unaccounted for…."

CLICK.

"And a high of twenty-three degrees!"

CLICK.

Dyslogia Twang, a gossip reporter, shows up onscreen.

“Dark day for everyone everywhere,” he says. “I mean, who doesn’t have the hots for Anakin Skywalker? And now he’s missing? Who will fill our lives with their brooding good looks now?”

“No one,” one of his co-reporters says. The both of them lounge on couches with two other people.

“No one! There’s a void now. All we’re left with is his picture.”

“Someone’s got to know where he is,” another person says. “I was reading the details of the investigation and apparently, there were no signs of foul play. No lightsaber marks, no blaster marks, it was like he vanished. So wherever he is, he must be okay.”

“You think he went AWOL?”

“No. Well, we can’t say anything for certain yet, but the authorities are also looking for Ahsoka Tano because they wanna question her about what she might know.”

“Wait, why Ahsoka Tano?”

“Because she was his padawan. Like his…pseudo-daughter, little sister?”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Well I don’t know, I’m not a Jedi. But she does know him well, and that’s why they’re looking for her.”

“So where is she?”

“She’s missing too.”

“Oh my God! They can’t find her? What is up with the Jedi Order? They can’t keep track of a few Force-sensitives?”

“Like padawan, like master. Do we have a picture of Ahsoka Tano? Can we put it up on screen?”

“Yeah, she’s really cute.”

“Can you change it?” Riyo asks.

“What’s wrong, Senator? Can’t stand gossip?” Asajj asks, but changes the channel anyway. On the holoscreen, a gritty guitar jingle plays before the camera pans through an office where all the employees are gathered at a particular open cubicle with water bottles and thermoses in their hands.

“Tips have been pouring in all over the goddamn galaxy about Anakin Skywalker,” a Tholothian woman says. “People have been claiming they’ve seen him, but they’re all Bantha poodoo. They’re just full of it. No one’s seen him.”

“Some people are saying that he’s with Padmé Amidala,” a Rodian woman says.

“The Senator?”

“Yeah. Apparently, she just took a leave of absence and no one knows where she is either.”

“So what are you saying, that they eloped together?”

“Whoa whoa,” the boss, a balding human man, waves his hands. “Tone it down, or we’ll be sued again.”

“You can’t think there isn’t anything going on,” the Rodian says. Half of the gathered employees groan. “No, come on!”

A male Nautolan shrugs. “I can see it.”

“Boo!” the boss says.

“No, I’m serious. Senator Amidala’s kind of hot.”

“Anakin’s a Jedi! They don’t do relationships.”

“He’s got eyes, right?”

“No, I’m not doing this,” the boss says. “Moving on, what else you got?”

“Um, Senator Riyo Chuchi attended a Trickster’s Ball wth Ahsoka Tano,” the Tholothian says. Riyo sits frozen in her seat, but Asajj raises an eyebrow and glances over at her.

“Wait, that’s that one Pantoran thing, right? Don’t they eat people at that ball?”

“No, that’s false,” the Nautolan says. “I’ve been to a couple of those balls. It’s fun, you guys should go sometime.”

“But it’s still depraved?”

“Oh yeah, it’s self-indulgent as hell.”

“And Senator Chuchi went to one of these things?”

“Yeah there was a poetry slam, and she did a poem there and,” here, the Tholothian pauses. “It was…it was pretty raunchy.”

“Oh Gods,” Riyo mutters, turning deep indigo.

“How raunchy? Is there footage?” the boss asks.

“No, there’s no cameras allowed in there, so no one could record anything,” the Tholothian says, “but it was intense. Like if Ahsoka didn’t give it up that night, girl…I will.”

“Turn it off,” Riyo says.

“But I want to see what happens next,” Asajj says, enjoying Riyo’s discomfort.

“Wait, wait, wait. Ahsoka Tano, isn’t she that one girl who was dating Barriss Offee?” the Rodian asks.

“The bomber?” the Tholothian asks. “There’s no proof of that.”

“Were they together?” Asajj asks.

“No!” Riyo says. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t care!” Riyo says. “We haven’t discussed exes and Ahsoka doesn’t seem to care about mine, so I don’t care about hers.”

“You should if her exes include Offee. That girl’s dangerous.” Asajj changes the channel to the weather network and mutes it. She checks the time. “I’m going to sleep on my ship, where things make sense. Goodnight, Senator.”

“Goodnight, Ventress.”

Ahsoka dreams of repairing her old Jedi starfighter. There’s a hole in the hull, and she’s fashioned a piece that just fits in it. She uses the Force to hold the piece in place, then spot welds them together. When it can’t move around anymore, she stops drawing on the Force to hold it and begins to weld the seam with overlapping spots. Ahsoka’s hands are steady, and she’s patient, and so each spot comes out identical to the last. Soon, she’s got an even seam, but she doesn’t notice, lost as she is in how therapeutic and hypnotic the repetition is. It’s almost like meditation.

Ahsoka finishes off the weld and lifts her mask to better see her handiwork. It’s beautiful, and she swipes a gloved hand over the seam to feel how smooth it is. No sooner than she does this, a holoscreen flickers on behind her, playing familiar sounds and images of the Jedi Temple.

But this time, it’s different. Padmé no longer features in them. Instead, a familiar voice calls out, “Long live the Republic!” before the vision devolves into a furious storm of blaster fire.

“Riyo.” Ahsoka jolts awake and finds herself in a hospital room. The ventilator mask is no longer on her face, and mid-morning sunlight streams into her room through the plastic blinds and spills onto her bed over her knees. Sitting in a chair at her side is Riyo, fast asleep. She looks extremely uncomfortable, and Ahsoka wonders when Riyo’s gotten used to sleeping in chairs.

Ahsoka reaches out to her, but can’t touch her while she’s lying down. She hooks her fingers into the collar of her hospital scrubs and feels the cottony texture of the Bacta patch stuck over her chest. There’s also a small plastic tube and she traces it down until she feels where it’s stuck in through the patch. Ahsoka gingerly presses on her sternum, testing it. There’s no pain, and there’s no shifting, so Ahsoka sits up and immediately regrets it. Her head spins for a moment from the blood pressure drop, and when she recovers, she lays a hand over Riyo’s.

“Huh?” Riyo blinks awake. “Ahsoka?”

“Hey.”

“Ahsoka!” Riyo leaps out of her chair and envelops Ahsoka in a tight hug. Ahsoka smiles into Riyo’s neck and pulls her into her lap in order to hug her better. She smells like pine and…something else. Ahsoka can’t put a finger on it. Riyo trembles and Ahsoka pulls away to look at her.

“Are you crying?”

“No. Yes.” Riyo wipes her eyes. “I’m just so relieved.”

“I told you I’d come back,” Ahsoka whispers and presses a quick kiss to Riyo’s lips.

“Oh kark.” Asajj rolls her eyes from her place in the doorway. Riyo’s ears turn indigo and she turns away, but Ahsoka hugs her tighter and looks at Asajj.

“You keep sneaking around like that, and of course you’re gonna walk in on things like this. Really, Asajj, people will start assuming things if you keep this up.”

“I’m not wearing a bell, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Asajj says. “You have your trinket and you’re alive and well. I believe we’ve reached the end of our accord?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Ahsoka summons a data pad from the side table drawer and, since she refuses to let go of Riyo, holds up the data pad behind Riyo’s back so she can see it over her shoulder. She accesses her bank account and pauses, then does a few sums in her head.

“Huh.”

“Something wrong?” Asajj asks.

“No.” There’s more credits in her account than Ahsoka expected to get. A lot more. How did Anakin get his hands on this much money? Ahsoka transfers the correct amount of credits to Asajj’s bank account and exits the app.

“Done.”

Asajj checks her own data pad and her eyebrows go up in surprise. “Did you misplace a decimal? You might have given me too much.”

“No, that’s it.”

“That’s…adequate.” Asajj tucks the data pad into her tabard and nods. “It was fun, Ahsoka. Comm me again if you have any other near-death experiences that you’d like to share.”

And with that, Asajj turns on her heel and leaves.

“I can’t say I’m sorry to see her go,” Riyo says. Ahsoka smiles.

“She’s not that bad. Did she open the holocron?”

“Yes.” Riyo tells Ahsoka what she told Anakin and at the end of her explanation, she grimaces. “I used to be envious of you. Of Force-sensitives, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. All of you can do such wonderful things and here I am and I can’t do any of that. But now that I know about the Dark Side, I think I’m over it.”

“I think you’re great,” Ahsoka says. “Even without Force powers.”

“I’m glad I meet your lofty standards,” Riyo says.

There’s a knock on the door, and it slides open to reveal Dr. Jago and a medical droid.

“Oh!” Dr. Jago looks up from their data pad and stops in their tracks. “Should I come back later?”

Riyo swears under her breath and slides off of Ahsoka’s lap. “Good morning, Dr. Jago.”

“I’d wish you good morning too, but it might be redundant at this point. Hello, Miss Tano, I’m Dr. Jago.” Dr. Jago has the medical droid scan Ahsoka and skims the readout. “Do you feel any pain?”

“No, but I felt lightheaded when I sat up.”

“That would be the low blood sugar; you haven’t had anything to eat in more than twenty-four hours. And also maybe the blood loss. Your vitals are good, Miss Tano, and your sternum is healed.” Dr. Jago scrolls down on the date pad. “Your body isn’t showing signs of rejection so far, but if there’s any swelling, or pain, come back and see me again.”

“Does that mean I can go?” Ahsoka asks.

“Yes, the danger has passed. However, your skin still has to form over the wound. You’ll have to wear Bacta patches over it until the skin fully closes up.” Dr. Jago nudges the medical droid forward and it drops a bag full of several thin, single-use Bacta patches into Ahsoka’s hands.

“Change it for a new one every twenty-four standard hours. As for the blood loss, drink lots of fluids. Oh, and try to get some rest. Your body may be worn out from performing all of its miracles.”

“I will. Thanks, Doctor.”

“It’s no trouble.” Dr. Jago wishes them the best and takes their leave, bringing the medical droid with them. Riyo puts a duffle bag at the foot of the bed and unzips it.

“Magnus brought you a change of clothes. I didn’t think you’d like to wear your dress out. It’s all dusty. And there’s a tear in it. Do you need help?”

“I got it.” Ahsoka unfolds her legs over the side of her bed and stands up. Riyo hands the clothes over and turns around to give Ahsoka some privacy.

“What happened on Malachor? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ahsoka pulls a sweater over her head and pulls her lekku out of the collar. “There was a Sith Lord there. Darth Maul. He attacked us.”

“So he was the one who hurt you?”

“Yeah. But that’s okay. I might have hurled him into space.”

“What?” Riyo starts to turn around, but catches herself. “O-okay.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka finishes dressing herself. “Done. You can look. Can we go home now?”

Riyo’s breath catches in her throat. ‘Home.’ That’s what Ahsoka said. Not ‘can we go back to your apartment?’ She smiles so hard it hurts her face.

“Riyo?”

“Yeah.” Riyo takes Ahsoka’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Magnus and R7 pick them up from the hospital and drive them back to Riyo’s apartment. In the backseat, Ahsoka lays her head on Riyo’s shoulder and nurses a bottle of water. The duffle bag, now filled with her belongings, lies on the floor of the cabin at her feet.

“You alright?” Riyo whispers.

“I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll take a nap later. What did you do while I was gone?”

“I visited my mother. She’s buried at the local temple.”

“Oh.”

“And I went on a Snow Walk with Magnus.”

“What’s a Snow Walk?”

Together, Riyo and Magnus explain Snow Walks to Ahsoka. Halfway through, however, traffic slows to a stop as hundreds of people flood the streets. They stand on parked speeders and cheer and shout and hug each other. A few people fire blasters into the air.

“Trickster’s Tongue,” Magnus swears. “What’s going on?”

A Wookie pounds on the window, almost breaking it, and howls in Magnus's face before walking off, howling some more.

“‘The war is over?’” Ahsoka repeats. “How?”

Magnus turns on the radio and tunes it to a talk show. It takes a couple minutes before they get the news that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has killed Separatist General Grievous. The war is over.

“Just like that?” Riyo asks.

“Wars are sudden like that,” Magnus says. “They can start in one second, and end just as quickly. What do you say, Riyo? Shall we have a drink to celebrate?”

“Maybe later, Magnus. Ahsoka needs rest, and I don’t want to leave her alone like this.”

“Very well. Watch out for police, R7.” Magnus flips a few switches and pulls a lever, converting the landspeeder to an airspeeder.

BEEP. It comes from the duffle bag.

“Oh that’s mine.” Ahsoka rummages through the bag and clips the hologram comlink from her gauntlet. When she presses the button, Anakin’s hologram appears.

“Snips! It’s good to see you. Hello, Riyo.”

“Hello, Anakin.” Riyo gives a little wave and Ahsoka smiles. She puts her head back onto Riyo’s shoulder

“It’s good to see you too, Skyguy,” Ahsoka says. “What happened to your face?”

“I’m growing a beard. It’s what guys do when they go into hiding.”

Ahsoka gives a soft, sleepy smile. “You really did it. You left.”

“Yeah. Gonna see if this civilian thing is as good for me as it is for you.”

“It’s pretty dang good.”

“I can’t thank you enough for getting that information for me,” Anakin says. “Did you get the credits?”

“I did. It’s a lot more credits than I thought there’d be.”

“You need them more than I do.”

“I don’t know about that,” Riyo says. “I hear babies are expensive.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re not hurting for money,” Anakin says. “I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Ahsoka mumbles. “Bye, Skyguy.”

She ends the call and tosses the comlink back into the duffel bag. As soon as they get back to the apartment, Riyo sends Magnus off to celebrate, but R7 follows Ahsoka into the bedroom like a puppy, and settles himself in the corner. He turns off most of his functions so as to not be obstructive.

Riyo goes to the bedroom and closes the door behind her, washing everything in inky darkness. She’s not concerned, however. She knows the layout of her bedroom enough to not bump into anything. She drops the duffel bag off to the side just inside the door. Ahsoka’s already in bed, the blankets a cocoon around her, but she must be awake, because her pupils flash green when she looks at Riyo.

“Mind if I join you?” Riyo asks. Ahsoka lifts the covers in silent answer. Riyo shucks her pants and slides into bed. Ahsoka is warm and she smells like Bacta.

The both of them are asleep within minutes.

It’s cold. It’s cold. Ahsoka wakes up, shivering. Sunlight no longer filters under the curtains over the window and instead, a blizzard rages outside. Riyo’s already at the thermostat, adjusting the temperature. When she comes back to bed, she pulls Ahsoka into her arms and rearranges the covers around her.

“I’ll reprogram the thermostat in the morning so that the heater turns on at night,” Riyo whispers.

“Mm.”

Not all of the cold is coming from outside, however. There’s something else and whatever it is, it’s coming for them both. Ahsoka summons her lightsabers from the duffel bag and catches them behind Riyo’s back. Riyo immediately freezes.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka closes her eyes and makes a sweep of the apartment using the Force. Through her lightsabers, everything is clearer and more vivid. A small squad of clone troops crowd the balcony beyond the bedroom window, and stand ready at the front door.

They are not here to catch up.

“There are troopers here,” Ahsoka whispers. Riyo’s fear spikes in the Force.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka really doesn’t. When she tries to read them with the Force, she only gets static white noise, similar to attempts to Force Read droids.

“What are we going to do?”

Ahsoka softly groans as she rolls over, her hand over her chest. “I can’t fight them off like this. We can’t run either, they’d catch us. R7? Wake up, it’s an emergency.”

R7’s camera cycles through colors as he boots up. He clicks and gives a low whistle, then rolls to the side of the bed.

“Several clone troopers are about to trash this place. Slice their com signal.”

BRAAP BRAAP.

“Good. Have they scanned this place yet?”

R7 answers in the negative. They just arrived.

“Slice the life-form scanner. Make it seem like this apartment is empty.”

R7’s camera cycles through colors again, then beeps.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and reaches out with the Force again. When the captain receives news that the apartment is empty, he orders a retreat, and the squad disappears into the night. They don’t take the cold feeling with them, however, but since the physical threat is gone, Ahsoka releases a sigh.

“They’re gone. Good job, buddy.” Ahsoka swipes a hand over R7’s dome before he rolls back to the corner. She tucks her lightsabers under the pillow and returns to Riyo. Ahsoka winds her arms around her waist and turns her focus within her to check her Force bonds.

Anakin’s Force bond is inert, if also on edge. Ahsoka picks up the bond and is overcome with waves of panic.

ARE YOU OKAY? Anakin seems to think at her. Ahsoka sends him images of the clone troopers coming, but retreating back, leaving the apartment untouched. Anakin’s always had a keen connection with the Force, so whatever she’s picking up from It, he must be feeling it as well, only worse. Judging from the level of his paranoia, it must be very bad, and he’s only mildly relieved at the fact that Ahsoka’s alright.

Anakin sends flashes of images too. A heavily pregnant Padmé sits on the kitchen floor with him, a gallon of ice cream between them. Both of them are sobbing. But Anakin drops the bond soon after that, and Ahsoka continues her search.

The bonds Ahsoka shares with Obi-Wan and Plo are dusty and brittle from disuse, but they’re still intact enough to give Ahsoka vague impressions of danger. Ahsoka’s breath shudders in her chest when she feels Plo’s Force bond crack and fall away. It pulls a part of her with it, and she shuts her mouth around a whimper.

The cold bleeds into Ahsoka’s system from a ragged bond, one that she’s torn up before, but has been mended from the other end. Barriss. She’s out. She’s angry. It’s joined by a faint screaming in the back of Ahsoka’s mind that she’s never heard before. She realizes that it’s the Force, and It smashes into her with the power of a super nova. Her body floods with phantom agony.

“Oh no,” Ahsoka whispers. That’s all she’s able to say before she clenches her teeth and grabs handfuls of the back of Riyo’s shirt.

“What is it?” Riyo asks. “What’s wrong?”

But Ahsoka’s already beyond words. Riyo tightens her hold.

Ahsoka’s comlink beeps from an incoming message, but neither of them move to answer it.

All Jedi return to the temple. The War is over.

Note Bene: I wondered what Anakin would look like with a beard, so I googled Hayden Christensen with a beard and it’s scraggly. It’s so bad. He tries, but he can’t do it. I found this hilarious, of course, and now you readers are also stuck with this image.

As always, I’m gonna plug in the AO3 and Fanfiction.net versions of this story. Show them some love! Please!

#star wars the clone wars #fanfiction #riyosoka #Ahsoka Tano #riyo chuchi #artillery writes #Launch Date

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unkindnessofone · 7 years

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5SOS. Rooms You’re Tall In

It’s up! This was a much tougher one to write. I thought I knew where it would go, I had so many notes, but here we are. I would love to hear some feedback. Sending this one out as a thank you to the darling @gotsbadblood. They are always encouraging and supportive. I appreciate it. Also if you love Taylor Swift, it’s a blog worth checking out.

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They had been there before together multiple times, but this felt different than following their parents around for their respective vocations and seeing Parisian life from the safety and comfort of their parent's laps. He was travelling the world as an actual musician, making money for his songs and hearing people that weren't from his neighborhood being impacted from feelings and words that had been produced by his fingers and mind. Then there was her, studying in the city to become a chef, being screamed at in a language she hardly understood while prepping plates for some of the most appetizing food she had ever seen. She wasn't Luke Hemmings daughter when she had her culinary whites on. He was still trying to shake off the shadow of his dad as it danced behind him every time he stepped on stage.

Taking her bohemian dreams to a different level than she had been able to back home in Sydney, Penelope skipped steps on her way out of the subway pit as found herself in a more touristy part of town. She held the crochet strap of her usual purse over her chest as the bottom of her elephant pants, coloured teal, mustard yellow, and a rich purple, dragged delicately over the dirty street. Her eyes were tired, the bags beneath them almost matching the colour of her lightweight pants, but she had taken today as her first day off of work since moving to France. She couldn't spend the Saturday sleeping in and losing out on time with her best friend. Penelope walked straight into the hotel lobby as if she belonged there like any other guest and headed to the stairwell. Connor had texted her his room number and it would have been easier to take the elevator, br she had been surviving off butter, sugar, and jam. Besides, walking up the stairs felt exciting since her doctor and parents had banned almost every other physical activity.

"Hi, rock star." Grinning from ear to ear, Penelope mustered up some energy from the vitamin she took upon leaving her place as soon as Connor threw the door open, his hair as light as it had ever been and terribly curly. As if they had a mental countdown between them, they hurried to hug one another - laughing as they did.

"God, I missed you." Hugging her tighter, shaking at her touch, Connor moaned into her ears that were poking him back with her gold conch shell studs his mother had made for her. "You smell like...thyme? Is that thyme?" Chuckling, he asked as she started to slip out of his arms.

Penelope lifted up her arm and smelled her elbow before yanking on the collar of her plain white t shirt and sniffing it next. She was low on laundry. From living on her own, she was learning she hated to do laundry.

"Honestly, I smell like a pantry now. It's just my life." She shrugged, smacking her arms against both her sides. "I brought you something." She raised his brows with peaked interest as she unzipped her purse and reached around into its contents, producing a small jar of mixed berry jam. On the tightly sealed gold label, she had stamped 'Penelope Hemmings Jam' with a small conch shell in black ink.

"Thank you." Connor held it in one hand, admiring her self made label and leaning in to hug her again, using one arm this time.

"So you can taste home wherever you go."

"I have something for you too." He held his hotel room door open wider for her, allowing her in as he stepped through to where his suitcase was resting open on the queen sized bed.

Fidgeting with the fabric of her pants, Penelope looked around and the room and concentrated on nothing. It felt uncomfortable to be alone in his hotel room. Connor was her best friend and they had been countless hotel suites together, but last time they had seen one another they had kissed. She wasn't sure if that had stopped meaning anything or where they were at yet. Over texts neither of them had brought it up.

Penelope leaned her shoulders against the wallpapered stripes and watched him. He looked stronger somehow which made little sense to her as they hadn't been apart very long and she followed his life closely online. Penelope chalked it up to her head. She was trying to learn French and cooking with a permanent concussion, maybe it was making a mess of the way she saw things even a guy she knew better than the instructions to the perfect pancakes.

"Here you go." Standing up straight again, Connor offered her a closed yellow envelope with her nickname written across it in his forever clumsy penmanship. "Four tickets to the show tonight."

"I can't believe I am going to see you live in an arena tonight." Grinning, Penelope took the envelope and then held her arms up above her head to shake them around with wiggling excitement.

Laughing, Connor stepped in to hug her again, picking her up and twirling her around which invited high volume laughter from his favourite girl. He snuggled his face into her neck, breathing in her new scent, but when he went to part his lips slightly and leave a kiss behind he was surprised that she leaned her neck and head away. Connor took the cue and politely put her down on an end corner of the bed.

"So are you best friends with your idol now? Or one of them." Penelope teased while leaning back comfortably onto her flat hands. Everyone knew that as much as he was inspired by the opening act, Ashton Irwin was Connor's truest idol.

"Paul is cool." Humbly, Connor informed her. "He's living up to my expectations, but he definitely is more quiet and distant than I thought he'd be, ya know? With how crazy he is on stage."

"People are full of surprises." She mused even though more often than not, Penelope found herself guessing what was about to happen before it did and being correct. She was a good judge of character and she figured that came from meeting so many people at once constantly as a little girl on tour. One had to learn fast who was good and who was just pretending.

"Like Molly." Connor mused with a wiggle of his brows, sending them under his mess of curls that were someone else's nightly problem now.

"I can't even imagine your Dad's face." Penny shook her head, eyes shut with disbelief. A dedicated cheerleader of a father, Penny imagine her Uncle Ash still hadn't picked up his frown from the floor since finding out Molly had been arrested.

"They were way more upset she was in a relationship and didn't tell them." Honestly, Connor had been bummed out that his sister didn't confide in him either. He laid down on his back on the bed next to Penelope, hanging his legs off the edge.

"He's really hot." Pen mentioned casually. When the news filtered through the many group chats, Emmeline had taken it upon herself to send everyone pictures from the Internet of Molly's rugby beau, Flynn O'Malley. Connor stared at her blankly, absorbing her comment and trying not to expose how much he didn't care for it. It had always been him obsessing over girls and Penelope blowing off the advances of everyone. Connor wasn't sure he had actually ever heard Penny call someone that wasn't on TV hot before. He knew now that it didn't make him feel good.

"I guess." Connor tried to laugh it off, staring at her blond hair from where he laid like it could tell him a thousand secrets. "I got to go to a radio interview and sound check in a little but. How's your French? Can you translate for me?"

"I could, but I'm not going to." There was nothing about a life that mirrored her dad's that interested Penelope. She wanted to stray as far away from living beneath a microscope as she could. Sometimes she considered using one of her middle names or her maiden name in place of ' Hemmings' just so she was less traceable. Penelope knew how much that would hurt her father though. They had talked about it. "People would start rumours I was your girlfriend if I showed up at interviews and your show with you." Penny laughed awkwardly.

He wanted to ask her if that would be so bad, but Connor wasn't sure his singer-songwriter could take the answer, "Is that why you're bringing a bunch of friends tonight? You don't want anyone getting ideas?" He asked instead.

"I'm just proud and I want to show the people I'm close with here to see my best friend and all can do." She was staring down at him with her usual loving eyes, but the sun bleeding through his balcony window illuminated her to look like his own personal angel.

"You're the best." His hand reached to cover hers over the bed as they both shared smiles from one another. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." She had been so busy in her new life that e didn't occupy her thoughts constantly, but once a day when she was sitting on the train or learning a new French phrase, he popped into her mind and lingered.

Connor wanted to pull her down. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and moan how much he craved her over and over into her hair and neck. She was keeping her distance from him though and he knew he would pummel some guy who made her uncomfortable. Connor would never forgive himself if he was that guy.

"You're coming to the party tonight after, right? I want you to meet some people. They hired a bassist for us and he's so dope. He's from South Africa and might be completely insane."

"Can't wait." Penny joked. "I want you to meet my friends too." Along with her, she was bringing some of her petite Paris family that she had naturally put together. Alexandra, Cerise, and Jules. "They're excited to meet you as well. I've been playing your music for anyone who will listen." Her cheeks blushed a mauve tone which felt unnatural since very little made her nervous. "You should probably get ready, huh?" She knew he had a busy day ahead and was just fitting her in for a sliver of time this morning.

Like a child, he whined, "I don't want you to leave." It was the same way he felt when she was packing for France ages ago.

"You got to go be the Connor, the Rock God. I have no choice, I'm just a lowly culinary student." Penny fished her hand out from under his, beginning to slouch her way off of the bed entirely. She still had things to do on her day off as well. Nobody was trying to interview her, but she had research for school and she planned to cut her own hair in the bathroom before going to his concert. Plus she had to go to the open market to pick up more ingredients for homemade jam and salsa. Canning had become a fun past time to do in her tiny kitchen with friends. It was a love second to surfing. Nothing would ever replace a board and waves for Penelope Hemmings, but staying up in her kitchen until 4 in the morning in her pajamas with good music playing and fruit in a pan could tide her over.

"There is nothing lowly about you." He said with great conviction, his eyes screaming his opinion as a promise to her as he took her hand again. "You're the amazing Penelope Hemmings."

After wishing Connor luck, Penelope let herself out of his suite. His lips had tainted her as she said goodbye with their knees knocking. Penelope felt like there were too many things to consider. She was falling in love with her new life and her independence. He was on tour and had always taken up with other girls. She imagined he was meeting so many different bodies now that his career was on it's launching pad. Of course, there was also the new people in her life to think about as well.

As she squeezed between two doormen squabbling in French, Penelope reached into her purse and pulled out a bent thin paperback to read on the subway along with her cell phone in its Australian flag phone case. She had missed two texts from her friend, Cerise. The first one in French and second translated to English. The two girls had paired up on the first day of class and became fast friends over their mutual disdain for the know-it-all guy who sat two stations ahead of them.

"I will see you there." Excitedly, Penelope texted back and tossed her phone back into her purse before heading to her subway stop. Somehow, Cerise had managed to score a brunch reservation at Cafe Lola and it was on Penny's long list of places to eat it mostly because of their lemon curd that was apparently the perfect balance of tart and sweet. Penelope was starving anyway. Today was going to be perfect.

As soon as she pulled the black glass door open to the busy spot, Penny was greeted by cutlery clanking against plates and chatter so frequent that it was just static around her. It reminded her of being in the restaurant kitchen just without the heat and pressure. Penelope loved when she was in the middle of chaos which was strange given how little interest she had in drama. It was just that when she was surrounded by noise and movement she felt closer to the feeling of surfing. She was tranquility in something made without control. It was thrilling.

Her eyes scanned around the room for the vibrant red pixie cut she sat beside every week day in class. Instead, she spotted Jules sitting by himself with a cup of coffee and a kindle in front of him. He was waving at her up high by the time she linked her eyes to him. His smile sent her waking by the hostess stand and through waiting groups of patron.

"Salut, Penelope." He stood up and greeted her with a hug, one hand resting on her back. She loved the way he said her name in Picardy influenced accent. It always sounded like he meant to say 'antelope'.

Penelope kissed around the stubble on his cheek before taking a seat right beside him, the spot across from her vacant for their third.

After exchanging pleasant how are you's en Francais and flagging down a server to order a lemonade for Penny, the Australian-American reached into her purse and retrieved the paperback that she had tucked back in after reading it on the subway. Jules turned off his kindle and moved it to the side, leaning in to give the beautiful girl his full attention.

"I like this one better than The Three Musketeers." She told him, flipping through a couple dry pages of Gaston Leroux's 'Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.' with Penelope being the type desperate for adventures, Jules had assumed she would love The Three Musketeers, but she had texted him somewhere around chapter two giving it five thumbs down emojis. Penny found the page that she had drawn neon orange highlighter marks on with his permission. It was his clever way of helping her with her French. He gave her books to read and asked her to keep track of the words she didn't know. She had gone from requiring him to read her whole pages while she cooked him dinner in her suite to just needing help with a few words every couple pages or so. Penny dragged her nibbled finger nail to the word and tried to read it before noticing Jules was rubbing at his right knee.

"Are you alright?" Even though she could say it French, she said so in her native tongue to better express her concern. Jules would have detected it in the way she leaned in and dropped what she was doing.

"I love that I can still get you with that." Chuckling, Jules tapped at his prosthetic leg and watched Penny relax with a sigh and fix him her meanest mug that was cuter than it was cruel.

They met at the tapas restaurant they both worked at. Jules played piano with the jazz band and met Penny while rushing through the kitchen late for a gig. He had snatched a piece of baguette she was using for a bruschetta platter and found his chin at the tip of her sharp blade until he put it back down onto the surface. It wasn't until she was mixed up with directions on how to get home that they found themselves talking and getting to know one another better. He fit in with her friends from school because he was relaxed and the girls were wild. He had quickly become a very close friend. One of the only people she actually liked talking to about her surfing accident.

"You're a gomer." Her Aussie accent shone as she rolled her eyes at him and leaned back into her book, turning it around to show him the words she was struggling with. She often looked them up on her own, but it was nice to be with a local that she trusted and have him show her better pronunciation and how to use the word.

"Did you have a nice visit with your friend?" Very interested, Jules asked while leaning in and looking at the book he lent her. She was at the part where Christine and Raoul were hiding from the Angel of Music in the roof of the opera house, vowing to protect one another and love each other for eternity.

"Yeah, it was quick. He has press and stuff." Penny shrugged. "But it was really nice to see him. He gave me the tickets for tonight. Thanks again for coming." She liked spending time with Jules and, like her, he had a true appreciation for live music. It wasn't just about screaming and having drinks for him which Penny liked because she detested both.

"This word, bagarre," With a clean fingertip he poked under the word she had highlighted. "It would be like...how do you say?" Jules bit down on his bottom pink lip, a small scar in the middle that she had noticed as soon as they met. "It's like a duel, but less formal. A brawl!" As he was talking, he figured it out. "Raoul would step outside of himself and brawl with them phantom in order to look after Christine if he needed to." Jules didn't even realize that he had begun to use his hands in front of him to explain the story.

"That's what I thought." The rest of the sentence only made sense that way, but it was still helpful to hear her friend say the word aloud. "Bagarre." Penny repeated and celebrated mentally when he shot her a thumbs up, a gesture he liked because it seemed American.

"C'est bon! Oui." Celebrating with her proudly, Jules reached over and squeezed her arm right before her lemonade was set down in front of them. Penny would have watched his hand over her if the server hadn't shown up. She peeled her eyes off of his hands that were strong and worn out from a lifetime of playing music so she could order a tray of pastries for the table. She hadn't forgotten how badly she wanted to try their lemon curd. Penny nodded her head into her shoulder and watched as Jules watched her, the arrival of her French friend who reminded her so much of Emmeline interrupting their sweet, but nervous silence.

"I'm here and I'm hungry." Kissing Jules cheek first, Cerise exclaimed as fast as she could in French before rushing over to greet Penny with a kiss as well. While Cerise put herself together in her spot, stripping off her pink jean jacket and talking about her morning, Penelope watched Jules listen. His side profile was what had caught her gaze and daydreams in the first place. She was confused. He was very much her first real crush from the excitement that tickled her stomach when he texted her to the nerves that took over her mind when he waved 'bonjour' when he saw her at work, but then there was Connor. He had lusted after her for so long, written songs about her, and they kissed before she left in front of so many people. Did she talk to Connor about a long distance relationship or did she keep dreamed about the French jazz musician with eyes that she swore had flecks of 24 karat gold in them.

*************************************************

Penelope hadn't been wrong about her day. It started with a tight squeeze from Connor Irwin, followed by pastries that lived up their rave reviews, a little time sitting on a bench in Rene Binet garden with Jules, both of them reading their respective books while wishing they brought sweaters. Autumn was fast approaching. She went home in a dream-like state, having a little cheese and jam while cutting her split ends in front of her perpetually foggy bathroom mirror.

She wasn't used to the confusion that seemed to swirl in her brain like creamer freshly poured into morning coffee. She felt like a moron the way her mind was drifting between imagining a hectic life that mirrored her parents with Connor Irwin and an easy melody with Jules where they could cook, dance, and create together. Penelope used to roll her eyes when her friends would stress about boys, but she was reading her textbook with her French to English dictionary on her bed and wondering what Connor's mouth between her knees would feel like it if the way Jules said her name would feel as good as it sounded.

She was thankful when Alexandra texted her that she was on her way so they could get ready for the concert together. The two girls who worked in the male dominated kitchen could gab together about other topics. Alexandra dreamed of running her own catering business in the South of France, only working for the most elite events, and her dreams helped Penelope figure out where she wanted to take her new skills. So far, Penelope Hemmings just really liked making jams and salsa. It wasn't exactly a launchpad for a real career.

Once in her favorite sweater, a blue and white check pattern that her Grandma Christie from her mother's side sent her, and slipped into a very worn out pair of black jeans, Penelope was ready to spend the night with both boys who were holding the logical side of her brain captive. She rested her butt on the edge of her claw foot bath tub and braided her friends hair, breathing in the third cigarette Alexandra had lit in the last fifteen minutes.

"I listened to your friend's music the whole way here." The older girl spoke after her drawn out inhale, her thick almost black hair being massaged by Penny's nimble fingers. "I don't know him, but does he write about you? I felt like his songs, some of them, they were about you." Alexandra had obviously figured out that the tune 'Penny and Me' was all about her new beach loving friend.

"I think so." Forever modest, Penelope explained. They didn't have a deep enough friendship yet for her to be forthcoming. They usually just talked food and work. "We grew up together, you know? Our dads are best friends, they were in the same band. I don't think I had a day without Connor until I was, like, four." It was a slight exaggeration, but they did spend more days together than apart for most of their early years. It wasn't until they grew into preteens that they started to choose to run in the same circle.

"It sounds like he loves you." Alexandra let the cigarette smoke curl upward as she glanced behind her to inform Penny. She wanted to see her reaction even if it was lackluster. "Do you love him?" She inquired as soon as she turned her head again.

"I didn't think we were going to talk about guys..." Nervously, Penny chuckled back. "Weren't you going to give me a recipe for some kind of bore entree?" Penelope was obsessed and wanted to soak in all the different techniques and meals she could.

"I will." She rolled her eyes. They worked together, there was time to teach the blond how to make a bore lasagna. "Do you love him or do you still have, what do you call them, giggly eyes for the drummer?" Alexandra had been working with Jules since she was hired over a year ago. He didn't ever register in her world though until she investigated who the guy walking Penny home every night was even on the evenings he didn't work. Girls had to stick together and look out for one another, she figured.

"Googly eyes!" Loudly laughing with her head back and her blond hair falling to the dimples above her butt, Penelope taught her. She supposed that giggly eyes still described her as well. "I don't know, Alex. I wish I did. I've never been in this situation before."

"Wait!" Letting her second braid come completely undone as she yanked it from Penelope's hand, Alex looked up with an enlarged stare and almost blew smoke right into Penelope's almost nude face. "You're a virgin?!" It was a real plot twist for Alex. She just assumed that the daughter of an Australian rock star with legs as long as pi in its entirety would have banged out a boyfriend and a few wild strangers in-between.

"No more. I'm not talking about this." Penelope drew her line in the sand. She readjusted her almost straight hips on the bath tubs edge and took to her friends hair again. The girl who was once known for how laid back and chill she was (like ice cubes in a finished glass of iced tea) was flustered and embarrassed. She felt like every time she entered a different room in Paris she was finding a different part of herself. It was the biggest adventure of all and she was not impressed with it.

*****************************

She was blaming it on her busy mind, but Penelope felt lost in the crowd during Connor's act at the Paul Shimnowski Band concert. She had no idea how many concerts that she had attended in her entire life, all of them she had loved, but this one she wanted to sit out. She had arrived so excited with her hair falling Cher style down her back and her phone ready to take a hundred pictures a second. Instead, she felt the headaches that she suffered randomly since her accident come on the moment she was a part of the large crowd in the concession areas. She followed Alexandra and Cerise, staying next to Jules as they squeezed through to find their floor seats. Maybe, it was because all of Connor's shows she had attended up until this point had been small venues, local ones that she had seen other decent and not-so-good bands in. This was a stadium. This was the kind of show she grew up watching her Dad put on, but of course, more folksy. The smell of weed lead the vibe of the entire show. She usually danced freely at Connor's shows. She was his biggest fan and former number one merch girl after all. She would raise her tanned arms above her space buns and turn her body in every direction she could without colliding with anyone, but not tonight. Tonight, she hugged her chest and watched her friend with a tight lipped smile. The kind that silently shouted, 'I am not okay'.

Connor looked every bit like his father with his mom's chin and jawbone. Somehow he managed to hone his mother's poise and grace while still embodying his father's goofiness and charm. It made it hard to pull your attention away from him when he was practically making out with the microphone and his hands were massaging the instrument he was playing, seducing the crowd by gyrating to his own songs. It could not be denied, as far as Penelope could see, Connor belonged to the stage. He always said he was born to play music for the world and she hadn't ever doubted him. Now she knew that nobody would be able to. The crowd around her was reasonably new to Connor. He had been relatively unknown outside of Sydney until Paul Shimnowski took him on tour, but she could hear over 5,000 other voices singing along to the song, 'Slipping Away', a ballad he wrote about her, about being with someone else and wishing he was with her, a song that Penelope had heard over a hundred times, but she couldn't remember any of the lyrics. Her head knew the words, her mouth was well acquainted with them, but her brain refused to connect them to her memory. It even struck her as a surprise when he whispered her name into the microphone, singing out loud how he felt clearly, 'Penelope she sleeps so soundly, somewhere in her bathing suit...'. She had heard the line before, even recalling the first time he played the song for her in his parent's backyard while she scratched at one of his big dog's ears, but the words were lost in the fog her head produced.

To her left, looking for sanctuary, Penny looked over at Jules by her side. He was standing still, just watching Connor with a contented look blanketed by a blue glow coming from the stage they were near to. She moved her attention down to the military green chinos he was wearing. She could see at the bottom of one pant leg the fabric outlined his metal prosthetic. He had opted to wear it over his one that better resembled a limb for reasons she knew not to be her business. The sight of his prosthetic, though covered, was a source of comfort to Penny and she leaned into him, knocking her arm against his and gaining his attention for herself.

“You're the Penelope, right?” Jules asked right in her ear, still saying her name how he knew it to be pronounced and not how Connor had just sung it. He had found her to be a small recurring theme in Connor Irwin's songs especially the sappier ones.

“Indeed.” She brought both palms to her chin as if to frame her face for him before laughing gently. “Connor invited me to an after party. Do you want to come?” She knew Alexandra couldn't because she worked in the morning and Cerise was all, but seething that she couldn't because she had obligations with her own boyfriend and his very religious family that attended church every Sunday.

“I'm going back to the restaurant.” Jules explained with a half-frown. Music was his life, just like it was Connor's, and even though he would gladly take any night off for a concert or if Penelope needed him to, he loved going to see his friends play and always wanted to find an opportunity to jump in and jam. He knew he wouldn't make it to the place they both worked at until nearly 11 pm, but he also knew that his seat behind the kit would always be warm and welcoming to him.

“I didn't know.” Penny shrugged. She didn't know which event she wanted to be at more, Connor's after party or her work where Jules would be playing with the rest of the jazz group. She felt obligated to Connor's since she had agreed to be there that morning.

“You'll be okay?”

“Oh yeah, I'll be fine. I just thought it would be fun for you to come too.” She knew it would be. He was a simple calmness that her life was missing. He chased adventures and liked new experiences as much as she did, but Jules was older by a year and needed time to lay in bed and relax. He forced Penelope to just slow down sometimes.

** * ** * ******

Still hugging her chest, Penny waited backstage against a cold white brick wall that she had once leaned against before as a three year old, waiting with a stomach ache for her Aunt Grace to take her back to the hotel for a medicine and a long nap. The way her Uncle Michael told the story was that she ate too much stinky French cheese and threw up everywhere, but the truth was just simply that she had a terrible stomach ache and both her parents were working their respective on-the-road jobs.

Penelope waited behind hoards of people. Some speaking French, but most gabbing back and forth in slang English. She wasn't invisible, eyes looked her up and down, but no one engaged with her, so she kept to herself. In her purse, she still had her copy of The Phantom of the Opera if she really needed it. From over top of a small balding man and very angry looking woman, she spotted Connor's sweat slicked forehead. Penny stepped forward in a lunge movement and waved. He was in the middle of being spoken to by two people at once, but as soon as Connor spotted her, he dove between his new manager and a label executive to talk to her.

“You were out of this world!” With delight and honesty, she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck as he twirled her around.

“You're here.” He moaned against her cheek with a smile that almost broke free from the confines of his face. “You're stunning!” Connor was never light on compliments around his favorite Hemmings, but since they kissed, he felt better about always saying how he felt and right now he felt that she was the most beautiful girl he had seen all day. “Where are your friends?” He looked around, certain that he had given Penelope more than enough passes to come see him backstage without any hassle.

“They all have cooler lives than me.” She excused, as if going to an after party for a concert wasn't anything to write home about. “You're stuck with just me.”

“I'll take you.” Connor threw his arm around Penny and started to walk her closer to the people he now shared his life with. “What did you think of the show?” Her opinion was the only one that truly mattered to him.

“I think you look like a young Ashton Irwin. It was so bizarre.” Penelope tapped both her cheeks with her open palms as she looked up at Connor. “Like, I'm not sure if you're my Uncle or not.”

“Don't be sick.” He playfully shoved her away just to pull her back with the same arm he draped around her like a useless scarf. “Did you like some of the new stuff? I'm just constantly trying out new material. Paul thinks it's the best way to figure out new music, play it live in front of as many people as you can and gage the reaction.”

“It was cool. You're getting kind of Dylan-ish.” Well acquainted in the world of music even though she didn't feel like she had much artistic talent herself, Penny critiqued him. “But like both his eras, you know? Folk and electric. I dig it.”

“Awesome.” Connor tightened his arm around her, bringing her in closer for a hug. He led her into his dressing room where his two best music buddies from back home were packing up their instruments. “I'm just going to get changed. You cool to hang with the guys?” He asked, but Penelope had already escaped his grip and was sitting on a coffee table next to a bowl of pretzels, talking to the guys she knew from spending all her free time at the Wax 'n' Wake by the beach back in Sydney. Connor watched as she easily made herself fit into any room effortlessly. He wondered if his new schedule would change how he felt for her, but his feelings were strong as ever. She was still the image that waltzed through his mind when he was working on new music or the voice he wished he could hear after a particularly challenging day.

** ** ** ************************************************

Outside, where the air was crispy through a hollow wind that was announcing October was just days away, Penelope was dressed perfectly in her cozy sweater and jeans. Inside of the club, she was cooking like one of her first attempts at baklava. It turns out hotter doesn't always make something cook faster. Penny excused herself from the booth that Connor and his ban were occupying, squeezing her way past two very drunk and very French girls to make it to the stairs. She didn't realize that Connor was following behind her until she almost slapped his face off by whipping the smoking door open and shut.

"Are you okay?" Once outside, relief from the heat and noise greeted Penny. She moved away from the group of smokers huddled by the door and stood out in the open, admiring the street lamp between limp orange leaves in the trees. "I didn't know you were behind me."

"It's okay. I didn't need my nose anyway." Wiggling it theatrically at her, Connor teased. "Are you doing okay?" He never quite knew where she stood on parties and clubs. She was a teetotaller which changed her experience from other people throwing back shots and sipping on mixed drinks. Even before her accident, Penelope didn't have any desire to drink. Still, Connor remembered Penelope as a staple at almost every beach bonfire or high school party he went to. She was always there with her usual cooler than the rest smile and the straps of her bathing suit top poking out of a neckline.

"Yeah, I just couldn't breathe." Fresh air had become a requirement in Penelope's recovery. She spent her first few lunch hours at school walking outside around the building, breathing in the air, and she liked to keep a window of her bachelor suite open at all times. It helped her keep her mind clear or, at least, she felt like it did. "You seem really in your element. I can tell you're happy." It was nice to not have to check. With her brothers and Emmeline, she had to check, but Connor's joy stretched through him. It practically screamed into a room.

"I'm even happier that you're here." Connor moved in close just as Penny was lifting up her arms to tie back all her hair, allowing a cool breeze onto her neck and her small chest to press against his. He had no complaints about the movement. "I wish I had more time here. You could show me around or I could see your apartment." He tightened his hands together behind her back, right where her dimples were. "We don't have a day off til Lyon and I'm assuming you wouldn't skip school on Tuesday to hang out there with me."

She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking, "As much as I plan to go there, no way." If she missed a day of school, she missed an entire lesson. Culinary school was fast and Penelope wasn't as whip smart as she used to be. She really had to focus now where she could slack off before. "No." She finished the same sentiment. Somehow, and she wasn't quite sure how, Penelope's hands had left her hair and were both laying flat against his chest which made him flex out of insecurity.

"I understand." He nuzzled his head closer to hers, making their conversation private from even the prying ears of the breeze around. "We will just have to take advantage of tonight then." It was only half past eleven anyway. Connor kissed her forehead and then her cheek. It felt safe and comforting. Penelope felt drawn in, but stepped back anyway.

"Do you want to just go and hang out in my hotel room?" Connor asked and tried to follow her eyes that she was now hiding from him. It wasn't the first time someone had asked Penny back up to their room, but it was the first time she was tempted to agree.

"Connor -" She sighed out his name with frustration. It confused him even though she meant to direct it at herself. Penny had a hand on her forehead and her heart in her throat. "Con, I don't know what to do." He was her best friend and she didn't want to start keeping secrets from him now.

"We don't have to go to the hotel. I didn't mean that in a pressure filled way." Right away, he hurried to defend himself. "We could just, like, catch up or watch TV."

"No, I'm not upset about that." She assured, her hand still massaging sat her temple. "I like you. There's a part of me lately that would love to go back to your hotel room." Enlarging Connor's pupils she surprised him. He instantly cleared his throat and fidgeted his arms at the sound that she had thought about being with him. "There's a part of me that thinks nobody could ever see me the way you do, but..."

"But?" He was stunned she could follow both those reveals with a 'but' and his voice showed it.

Penelope stared at him, her hands finally both at her side, as she tried to read her own racing thoughts. They were four steps apart from one another and Penelope swore she could hear his nerves beating beneath the thin material of his black shirt, "I like someone else too." Like it was a sin, she admitted it, flicking the words out from behind her teeth at his frozen face with the tip of her tongue.

It was obvious he was disappointed as his head instantly fell and a few of his lazily tamed tangles of hair fell free. Penelope figured other girls might apologize in this situation, but she didn't. She made a point not to just apologize unless she was sorry and she was not sorry for how she felt for either Connor or Jules. It was nearly autumn, the wind was cold, but she was slowly burning in the parking lot with Connor almost on fire just steps away from her. Their silence was aching and she could hear it's melody like someone slamming on out of tune piano keys.

"It's that guy in your photos?" It took Connor a minute, but eventually he figured it out. He followed Penny's photo page online closely and the only two photos he hadn't liked was one of her in her white coat at work sitting with Jules in the walk in freezer of the restaurant and the other was just of Jules eating her jam with a large spatula on her balcony. Every other picture, he laughed and admired before giving it a heart tap.

Penelope only nodded in response. She wanted to be truthful, not hurt him.

"The guy with one leg?" It was obvious to Connor that the picture of them in the freezer, Jules in shorts, that he had a prosthetic limb.

"Yeah. His name is Jules." She didn't know if Connor would want that detail, but it came out of her anyway.

"You brought him to the show?!" For a second, Connor felt stung, but he puffed out his chest as he told himself that he had put on a great set. "Wait, he's the drummer at your restaurant." It was coming together quickly now that Connor had the perimeter of the puzzle pieced. He remembered in one of their earlier phone conversations that Penny had mentioned she made friends with a musician, a drummer at the place she was working at, and he was going to show her around Paris. Connor had felt jealous initially, but when she never brought him up again he figured that it was nothing. "He's a musician." He didn't like that for some reason. Maybe it was because he didn't want to have anything in common with her crush or it was because he felt threatened. Connor was on tour and this guy worked with Penny night after night.

"I've never known you to be into somebody." And he had known Her forever even when went through a phase where she wore a lollipop body mist that made her smell like sugar cane. Connor was flabbergasted. "I really thought tonight was going to go different. Honestly, I thought we would just pick up where we left off." Connor really did imagine Penelope's hand in his and the two of them kissing backstage, their young blood rushing around as she finally let herself be with him.

"You want to be together while you're flying around the world?" It was Penelope's time to be surprised though she supposed she shouldn't be because Connor was always fanciful and believed in fairy tales. They were different that way.

"Yeah. Why is that so bizarre?" She had a crooked smile on and her head was posed to the side, asking him to be real.

"It would never work." Penny had gone over the situation in her head plenty of times. She was in school and couldn't visit him whenever and he was on tour and couldn't stop by Paris whenever he felt like it. They could never be there for one another. Right now they were too restricted. Plus, she didn't know Connor to resist the attention and affection of girls who were fans of his music.

"And it's different with Jewel - ?"

"Jules." She corrected before he could continue.

"He plays music too. What is it just because he wasn't good enough to tour?"

"Okay, easy, you're not David Bowie." Penny pointed out with her face holding a frown. She really didn't want to upset Connor, she just didn't want to lead him on either. "And Jules is really talented. There's a lot of talented undiscovered people, you know that!" It wasn't that long ago that he had been recording music in his bathroom and wishing someone would give it half a listen. "I really like both of you." She didn't even know if Jules had any feelings for her, she just knew thinking about him made her feel like there was a ticking time bomb inside of her.

"He has one leg!" Connor laughed as he raised his voice.

"So?" She couldn't believe he was bringing that up so she made sure to narrow her eyes into him and step closer, letting him know just how crazy she thought he was being. "You have dirty blond hair." She said to try and show him how moot his point had been.

"Well, come on, Pen, what's so special about him? I've never known you to be into someone."

"He gets it."

"It? Gets what?" Connor squinted to better follow her. "I get you."

"He gets what it's like to have your whole world change from an accident." Sighing, Penelope told him with some embarrassment. She hated having to admit that things were different for her now.

"Wait..." He put up both his hands and waved them in front of himself as if it helped him understand what she was saying. "You have a crush on him because he's disabled?"

"Okay, fuck you." Penelope said it like she was wishing him good luck. It was simple and sincere. On her toes, she moved forward to rush away. She didn't know where she was and she couldn't remember where Montemare was from where they were standing, but in that moment, she thought being lost would be better than arguing with someone she trusted to never hurt her. Her blond hair whipped behind her like a reptiles tail as she stalked away. She could hear Connor's voice painfully calling her name, pleading, as his feet shuffled closer. Penny inhaled deeply and ignored her instinct to keep walking when she spun around. Their chests were so close to colliding that, out of reflex, Connor jumped back.

"You being cheesed right now is so hypocritical!" She threw her hands down in fists as she shouted into him. "I like both of you a lot, yeah, that sucks, but you dated your way through your yearbook in high school while writing songs about me the whole time!" In case e had forgotten, which he hadn't, Penny reminded him with one large breath.

"I didn't think I had a chance with you." With Penny, she was a mermaid-like angel and, around her, he was just a human with all his flaws. Connor softened, guilt leaking into his previously burning throat, Penny wasn't finished though. He had crossed a line and poked a button. He had never seen her so wound up before and he hated that it was him who had made her feel so awful. He wished now that he could step back five minutes into the past and try to handle his emotions differently.

"You know your parents and their perfect freaking marriage that you're lusting after? You are never going to have it if you don't like yourself on your own first. I was figuring out who I was then I had my accident and I had to figure myself out all over again. I'm not going to apologize for not having time to be your girlfriend and groupie because I was too busy figuring out who I was!" Her own impulsive foolishness had ripped memories and cognitive skills from her and Penelope was very proud of how hard she worked to become someone she liked again.

Connor has never heard Penelope raise her voice. Any time she had been cross before, she played it off cool as a cuke. He had seen her unleash a little on her younger brothers before, not him. It stung and Connor wanted to sit down on the curb and cry. Instead, he ran all his fingers through his hair aggressively holding the ends down and trying to keep from coming undone in front of her.

"Alright, so let's pretend there's no Jules. It's just you and me, you still wouldn't believe we could do it while I'm touring?" He couldn't change Penelope's heart. If she had feelings for two people than Connor couldn't yell at her until he got his way. "No chance?"

"I just don't see...how." Down at the tips of her scuffed up white canvas shoes, she said quietly before looking up to notice how little he cared for her response.

"Why?" Thrusting his chin forward, he asked assertively. "What? You think I'm going to be like your Dad?"

"What?"

"You think I'm going to stay out all night and get fucked up? You think I'll get caught with hookers -"

"That was a rumor and you fucking know it!" Like they were guitar strings, he was playing with her nerves now.

"Whatever. You think I'm going to cheat and not come home just like him."

"He didn't cheat on my Mom!" Penelope growled. She had asked her mom point blank once if he had and she promised that he never did.

"You're still the same little girl who got teased in kindergarten because her dad was in the papers and on TV! You are scared of being happy with me because of my job. Admit it!" Connor huffed at the end. He was out of breath as it has run away with his mouth. Neither of them were used to behaving this way especially with each other. "Penny, what I should have said -"

"Get fucked, you gomer." She didn't let him correct himself. Penny dragged her spiteful glance away from him and began to walk away. She figured she would walk until she was on a Main Street and then take the last subway home. Her emotions were so heightened that she couldn't think straight. Penelope stiffened up her mouth and fought with herself before taking her low battery phone out of her purse and calling her mom. She didn't know what she would say, but she hoped it would center her. It was almost ten in the morning back home on the next day, she assumed her mom would be up running errands or getting breakfast with friends.

She nearly broke into tears when she heard the groggy voice of a freshly awaken Luke Hemmings pick up. It played back every horrible thing that her best friend had just said. Penelope pulled her face away from the phone and checked that she had actually clicked on her mom's name.

"Penny? You okay?" Luke checked the time on his wife's phone as he had reached over her side to pick it up. She was in the shower. "Penny, its like midnight there. " He forgot that she was going to Connor's show that night.

"Dad, I'm lost." She hated admitting defeat. Her frustration with herself was evident.

All at once, Luke panicked, but he chose to take a deep breath and follow the advice of Penelope's doctor and therapist. He couldn't always spring into hero mode. He had to let her learn.

"Okay, that's okay. Can you call an uber to where you are?" He inquired, sitting up and adjusting his wife's pillow behind his back for support.

"I think I'm in a park. We went to a club to celebrate after Connor's show and...and I left..."

"Without your friends?" He didn't hide that he didn't like that.

"It's a long story, Dad." Her sigh was long and held its exasperation until the end. "I know that I'm in Passy which is, like, less than a half hour by car to my place." He was glad Penny knew that because he neighborhoods of Paris were simply French words to him. "The subway station is by Radio France." She didn't know why she knew that, but at some point someone had mentioned that to her and it stuck in her brain. "I don't know how to get there."

"Walk North, Penny." Luke coached her while reaching around to find his phone somewhere in the bed sheets. It was right beneath his pillow. He pulled open Google and began to search on the map for Radio France. Once he had the address, he opened up his GPS app that he used to track all three of his forever wandering children. He found Penelope quickly and changed what he told her, "I'm sorry, Penny, turn around and go straight. I'll stay on the phone til you get to the subway or in a cab." He didn't prefer either. Luke just wished he could drive her around himself.

"Thanks, Dad. I knew where I was and then I couldn't remember. It's been really good though until now." She had Jules to walk her home from work, but she really didn't need him to anymore. She just loved being alone with the drummer and all the tattoos that decorated his arms like lights and bulbs on Christmas tree.

"Are you alright? You could go back to the club and get a car."

"Yeah." Hearing his voice was giving her something positive to focus on. It made her feel closer to home even though they were just over the phone. "Maybe, I should. I just want to be home."

"You will be on December 24th." Luke reminded her while laying back down, feeling calmer now that she did.

"I meant my apartment."

"I know, I'm just teasing. We miss you." He told her that almost every day. "You close to the club?" He couldn't tell that on his phone app.

"Yeah, like, a minute away."

"Just take an Uber, Pen. I will wire you some money."

"I'm fine for money, Dad." Penelope was very proud of the fact that she supported herself. She could never be like her friends who lived off their parents back accounts. Still, Luke always helped her. It was one of the only ways he felt like he could help her from so far away. "I'm here. I'm at the club." She was standing right in the back parking lot where she and Connor acted like children fighting for no reason, but because their emotions demanded it. Connor wasn't there anymore and she assumed he had gone inside with his heart racing and hands playing with his hair.

"Okay. You feel okay?" He didn't want to patronize her and ask her to do some of her memory exercises, so Luke found a more vague way to investigate.

"I'll be fine." She wasn't about to vent to him about how Connor hurt her heart.

"Okay. Love you, Pen. Call anytime." He always reminded her that she could.

"Dad?" Penny didn't want him to hang up just yet.

"Yeah?"

Sometimes, to help her recollection, Penelope would walk herself backwards through her day until she was the place she needed to remember. Right now, she was in the parking lot where Connor made her feel as small as Daphne Hood was.

"You were a good Dad. I know you were away a lot, but I still liked having you as a Dad." Penny nodded and swallowed hard, telling herself as much as she was telling him.

"Thanks." Luke ignored that she used past tense and softened. He had been criticized harshly by people who knew him and many who didn't, so hearing from one of the kids he raised that he earned a passing grade was as comforting as the blanket he was half beneath. "I love being your Dad." He informed her as she approaches the first cars outside of the front of the dance club.

"I'm going to go. Goodnight. Well, morning." Once he said goodbye back, Penelope hung up and put her phone back into its bag.

In an effort to save money and work out some of her conflicting thoughts, Penelope requested for the Uber driver to drop her off on the same block as the place she worked at. It was only a ten minute stroll to her home from there and she wanted to stop in to check her upcoming schedule for the rest of the month.

Penelope squeezed in through the kitchen door where four line cooks were smoking and swearing about the busy night they were in the middle of. When the band came on and the cocktail specials were announced was when people started to pour in. It was a very popular after hours spot for their strong drinks and a generous tapas.

Penny wiped off her shoes on the rubber mat and went to the wall by the office. She could hear the music playing, almost recognizing the staccato song playing. Right away though, Penny knew Jules wasn't on the drums. She checked to make sure she was given the day off before her upcoming exam and then forged forward through the boiling and hectic kitchen. Her eyes checked over moving shoulders as she glanced at different meals being prepared or plated. There was always an opportunity for her to learn. All around her, she heard her name and greeting. She felt better already. This was her makeshift home, this was her out of town family.

She moved closer and closer to the perpetually swinging door that separated the fun loving atmosphere for the dining room and jazz club from the stresses out sweat and swear zoo that was the kitchen. As soon as she had curled one hand around it to push it partially open, a waitress she recognized as Ismay flew by with an empty tray and an annoyed expression that could staple itself into anyone's mind. Penny glanced around the busy room and found Jules right away, sitting on a bar stool with an old fashioned and keeping the beat of the song with his hand on his knee. Due to enjoying the band, he swung slightly on his chair and waved over his head almost as soon as he spotted Penelope. He thought about nodding at her to join him, but it struck him as odd that she had left her friend's party and he could tell that something had happened. She was wearing a face he hadn't seen on her before and, while he thought she was ethereally beautiful, he did not particularly care for it. So Jules carefully hopped off the stool and moved to her. Penelope came out of the kitchen entirely, standing behind the bar in her casual wear.

"Why did you leave?" Jules inquired, leaning into the small bar door that came up to his waist and kept them apart. "Were you not having fun with celebrities?" He couldn't resist teasing her, wiggling his brows as he asked. Jules was not impressed by fancy things and name brands. He grew up with a single mother and modest means between himself and his older sister. He played music and worked as a doorman at Le Royal Monceau. Sure, he had dreams, but he was never impressed by anyone who flashed their success and wealth around. Jules just wanted to be happy right before he fell asleep at night.

"No." Penny sighed and rolled her eyes halfway at the thought of it. "It was weird. I'm going to home now, I just needed to check the schedule."

"Want a walking buddy?" It was a term she had coined for him around the third time he escorted her back to her apartment.

"No. I got it." She was worried about getting lost again, but Penelope really did want to be by herself.

"Okay. Well I'll see you...mercredi?" He could never remember the days of the week in English. Jules hoped to see her before, but he knew that was when they would both be working together. He had picked up the habit of checking her schedule.

"Yeah." Penny promised. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight. Did you like the show?" She realized she hadn't asked after the concert.

"Yeah, it was good. Both acts were good." He admitted while waving his hand back and forth to gesture that they were really just 'okay'. Jules wasn't a big fan of folk or pop music. He grew up on jazz and classic since that was what his grandfather that they lived with played. He was the man who taught Jules everything about rhythm and built him his first drum kit. "It was weird watching someone be so in love with you in front of all those people." He half-laughed through his awkward honesty. "Did you two date?" She had always just referred to Connor as her closest friend, but the performance has all three of Penelope's French friends wondering if they had once been more.

"No." She shook her head and reached around to tighten her ponytail. "We kissed once." She said and instantly wish she hadn't. She looked down into her purse to check the time on her phone noticing that it barely had any battery life yet. She was sitting at an uncomfortable 3%. Penny missed that Jules scrunched up his nose at what she said.

"Do you like him?"

Penny puffed both her cheeks out and let them deflate with a long exhale at his question, zipping her bag back and wondering for a second if her feelings for Connor had changed after their fight.

"I have." Realizing it was a strange way to answer, Penny shrugged. "We sort of fought at the club and we've never fought before." Penny explained to Jules, wrapping her fingers around the bar door again. "I don't know."

"What did you fight about? Was it bad?" He wished his English was better or that her French was more extensive in times like these. Jules felt like he couldn't be as good a companion to her when their was a language barrier between them. He didn't realize his hands had curls over hers, but Penny had and she could not stop looking at them.

"It was just bad because it had never happened before." She spoke directly to their hands. "I hurt his feelings and then he hurt mine back." She supposed that she really just described every fight throughout history, but she wasn't quite feeling as smart as usual tonight.

"What did you say?" In a joking manner, Jules scolded her. He narrowed his eyes in and shook his head very slowly.

"You really want to know?" She asked before realizing that she didn't know if she wanted to honestly tell him.

"Of course." Jules laughed and squeezed her fingers under his tenderly. He couldn't imagine her saying anything that he couldn't handle. His bet was that they just misunderstood one another or that her friend was too drunk to think before speaking.

Penelope tightened her throat which made Jules chuckle at how strange it looked and she tried to come up with a lie. She tried to reason with herself and remember how to be the cool girl that she was known as back home on the beaches of Sydney.

"I told him..." Penny looked up into Jules eyes, but that made the truth harder to share somehow. "I told him...I said...well..." She was embarrassed by how tongue tied she felt and just spat it out, "I told him I like somebody else too."

"Okay." Like it was nothing, Jules accepted with a casual smirk that shrugged above his chin. "So he feels a little crushed. Anybody I know? Someone in your classes?"

"You." She had come this far. There wasn't much point in beating around the bush now. Penny sometimes wondered how different things would be with Connor if he had come out and admitted to liking her instead of just trying to tell her through poetry.

Jules hands loosened on hers and his eyes lightened as he gave her a smile she interpreted as pitying.

"Okay, so I'm going to go jump in front of a car." Penelope uttered a sentence she had heard Emmeline say a dozen times before when she didn't get her way. The words didn't feel right in her mouth, but she pushed open the bar door and tried to squeeze past him. Jules tugged on her wrist, but she yanked it away.

"Penelope! Penelope!" He chased her through the kitchen. After she pushed open the back door, she turned and stopped him from going outside with her. He looked concerned and as if his mouth was full of a hundred things to say.

"Don't. It's okay!" She put up her hand to stop him from coming closer or uttering a word. "Cause I like you both and I don't know what to do. So you don't have to say anything and make it more weird." She really needed to work on her eloquence.

"Can I, please, walk you home?" Jules genuinely wanted to and took her hand in his to try and make that clear.

"I'll text you when I'm there." Penelope just assumed he felt obliged to make sure she was safe. She took her hand back and ran into the night, his eyes watching until she became a dot as dark as the sky was.

****************************

After plugging her phone in and taking a pear from her bottom fridge door, Penny ran a hot bath. She soaked in the bubble free water and watched her skin grow red from the heat. It was comforting and removed how perplexed, hurt, and rejected she felt. Penelope only ate half of her pear before her stomach couldn't bare anymore. She felt too upset and her stomach couldn't handle another bite. Once she was starting to drift off into sleep, she rose out of the bath tub and drained the dirty water. Penelope wrapped herself in her favorite multi-color striped beach towel from back home and picked up her phone from in the dry sink since she used it as a DIY speaker for the Soft Cell songs she was playing to drown out the furious pain from the evening. She noticed that she had four texts and read them as she dried off.

"I'll be in Paris soon. MAKE TIME FOR ME AND ROMANCE MY PALE ASS!!!" Emmeline sent with a string of bright coloured emojis that had nothing to do with her sentiment.

"Are you home safe? You didn't text." Jules wrote about twenty minutes after she arrived at her building.

"I'm really sorry, Pen. :(" Connor had sent around the same time as Jules.

However, Penelope only concentrated on her dad's message.

"Your mum and I are really proud of you. Nice to start the morning with your voice."

Once dry, she put on a pair of sweats and a stained 5SOS shirt from their first headlining tour way before she was born and slept on her futon. She was exhausted so she didn't even bring it down from its couch form. Penelope texted no one and fell asleep wondering where her perfect day went.

#5sos au #5sos series #5sos imagine #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #penelope hemmings

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