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crissiebaby · 1 year

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The Padded Palace Act III: Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, crossdressing, inappropriate language, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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“Connow! Teww Stacy to stawwwwp!”

Lying on the ground with Stacy straddling her tummy, Skye covered her face with both arms as Stacy attempted to pry them open. “Dis isn funny! I don wanna pway makeup! Connow!” she shouted, shielding herself from the barrage of makeup products Stacy had at her disposal.

“Don be such a baby! I pwomise to make chu extwa pwetty,” teased Stacy, giggling as she continued to use her superior height to torment the Padded Palace’s shortest member. She clenched her thighs together, squishing Skye’s guts in hopes of weakening her arms enough to tuck them between her legs.

Unfortunately for Stacy, Skye’s cries for help had paid off as a pair of arms placed themselves underneath Stacy’s armpits before yanking her upward and freeing Skye. “C’mon, Stacy, I know Latasha just talked to you about this,” said Connor, shaking his head as he set Stacy aside and moved to help Skye to her feet, “If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to tell Latasha when she gets back from the store.”

Folding her arms, Stacy’s gaze narrowed as she got in close to Connor’s ear. “Walk away, or else this won’t be the only thing Latasha hears about,” she whispered just soft enough for Skye not to hear.

Sighing, Connor’s expression immediately soured. “Go play with the others, Skye. I need to talk to Stacy for a second,” he said, petting the top of Skye’s head passively as he shooed her away.”

“O-otays,” said Skye meekly as she read way too much into the headpats Connor was gracing her with. She let a relieved smile cross her face as she tiptoed over to the stuffed animal nook in search of her comfort plushie, Lyle.

Left alone with Stacy, Connor’s posture slouched as he shifted out of his well-crafted caregiver persona. “That photo doesn’t give you a free pass to torment Skye and the others. If someone’s crying for help, I’m not just going to look the other way,” he said plainly, keeping a calm yet serious tone so as not to alert the other Littles to their conversation.

“And what if I say it does, huh? What then?” said Stacy, biting her lip at the power she held over Connor. It made her insatiably wet in the best of ways. She may have been a Little but even a Little could get off on having complete dominance over someone, “I’m just messing with you, silly head. Oh, by the way, don’t forget to mention my sleepover idea to Latasha. Your adulthood literally depends on it.” Her evil smirk faded as she got down on all fours and crawled off with her makeup back in hand, wiggling her diapered rump at Connor tauntingly.

Trudging toward the rocking chair solemnly, Connor plopped himself down and began scratching the back of his left hand anxiously. Nearly two months had passed since the fateful day that Stacy caught him in pull-ups and she hadn’t let him forget about it for a second. Whether it was letting her off easy on eating her vegetables at lunch or helping her to win at whatever board game they were playing, she demanded special treatment at every turn or else there would be dire consequences.

With how often Stacy flaunted her blackmail, Connor had wrestled with the idea of ripping the band-aid off himself and coming clean to Latasha. Sure, Latasha would probably punish him and Stacy would probably tell the others out of spite and she might even post the picture online and then…this was why he hadn’t said anything yet. Anytime he got even close to talking himself into a confessional, he’d overthink the consequences to the point of inaction. Tragically, the only real course of action he had that kept his standing with Latasha and the others was compliance, for better or worse.

“Littles! I’m hoooooooome!” All eyes turned to the nursery door as Latasha's melodious voice echoed throughout the Palace.

Scrambling to her feet with Lyle tucked under her armpit, Skye spirited out of the nursery, too excited to wait for Latasha to come to her. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” she screamed, forcing Latasha to drop the two large shopping bags she had in her hands as she leaped into her arms.

“Oh, my goodness! I’m under attack!” said Latasha playfully as she stumbled backward, placing her arms under Skye’s squelchy bottom for support, “Orrr…is it YOU who’s under attack?!” Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she began to mercilessly kiss Skye’s cheeks, extracting a wealth of giggles from her precious Little.

Not far behind Skye was the rest of Skye’s padded posse, all of whom were far more interested in the goodies that Latasha had brought home as they dug through the pair of bags with the CrissBaby Diaper Company logo on them. “Whoa! Chu gots so much good stuff!” said Ellie, gawking at the wide array of ABDL products Latasha procured, “Oh, sweet! Chu gots Lisp Lollies! Can I twy one?!” She pulled out the small, circular package containing eighteen CrissBaby Lisp Lollies.

Setting Skye down, Latasha plucked the box of tongue-numbing candy from Ellie’s hands and placed it back into the shopping bag. “Sorry, Ellie. These are for the convention this weekend. If there are any left when we get back, I’ll make sure at least one has your name on it,” she said, cupping Ellie’s chin gently before grabbing the twin bags and ferrying them into the kitchen.

“Ugh! I’m sho jelly of chu two! I wanna go to CrissCon! Daddy’s being such a fuddy-duddy this year,” moaned Riri, neglecting to mention the four-digit cost she and Martin racked up on their last big convention trip earlier that same year.

Peaking into one of the shopping bags, Connor was almost in shock over how much Latasha had picked up. “Wow, this is a lot of stuff for a three-day trip. I thought you said the con provides free diapers,” he said, staring down at two large packages of CrissBaby Super Soaker Deluxes.

“They do but it’s also several hours of driving each way. Plus, some people like to host room parties. It’s me, by the way. I’m some people, ” said Latasha in a matter-of-fact voice, bonking Connor on the head with a roll of paper towels as she began setting up for lunch. Glancing around the room and noticing all of the Littles were too preoccupied with the shopping bags, she decided to sneak in a quick diaper check on Connor, reaching in between his legs from behind and cupping the front of his pull-up, “Good boy but you know, you can make them a little wet for Mommy if you're feeling naughty.”

“Shhhhh, they’ll hear you,” whispered Connor, his heart skipping a beat as he shooed Latasha’s hand away. His face turned red as a tomato as his eyes went from Little to Little to make sure no one saw anything. Thankfully, none of them appeared to have seen anything.

Placing a tender hand on Connor’s butt, Latasha responded, “No, they won’t. I’ve never been caught once. Though, they’ll definitely know something’s up if you keep blushing like that,” she said, swatting Connor’s booty and causing him to jump slightly, “Golly, you are just too fun to tease. Never change, Connie-kins.”

Hearing his feminized Little’s name instantly perked up Connor’s little buddy, who was already on high alert after being fondled during the diaper check. Latasha knew just how to push his buttons. And the “worst” part was that she knew how much he loved it, giving her the green light to keep button-mashing.

Sadly, Connor was unable to enjoy his horny moment with Latasha as Stacy rounded the corner into the kitchen, leaning against the wall and flashing a smug smile in his direction. “H-Hey, Latasha, mind if I ask you something?” he said, acting as casually as possible given the circumstances. Thankfully, since Latasha had already gotten him riled up, he could easily pass off his nerves as arousal, as embarrassing as that would be. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he launched into the speech Stacy had prepared for him like a well-trained dog, “Since you’re heading out super early on Friday for the Con, I thought it might be a fun idea for the other girls to sleep over Friday night and throw their own little room party right here in the Padded Palace. Of course, I’d be here the whole time to chaperone.”

“Hmmm…if you’re sure you can handle it, then I think it sounds like a great idea! Though, we will need to get permission from Carol and Martin first,” said Latasha, not thinking twice about why Connor would suggest giving himself more work, “I really love seeing you take this kind of initiative. You’re becoming such a good caregiver, Connor.” She wrapped her arms around Connor’s torso and pulled him in for a hug, expressing the trust and love she had for Connor through her touch.

With his eyes locked on Stacy, Connor was unable to feel the energy Latasha was bestowing upon him, feeling as though he was completely undeserving of his secret Mommy’s kind words. Stacy’s blackmail was one thing, but the guilt of leveraging Latasha’s trust against her haunted him more than anything.

Regrettably, Connor wasn’t the only one whose anxiety was skyrocketing. Sandwiched between Ellie and Riri as the pair continued to sift through the plethora of ABDL items, Skye couldn’t take her eyes off of the hug that Connor and Latasha were sharing. For two months, she’d stewed over how close Connor and Latasha kept growing. Latasha may have been her Mommy, but their relationship was not a romantic one. No matter how much she loved Latasha, her heart longed for the warmth of a Daddy and a lover, and she wanted Connor to be both. “Mommy! I hungy,” she shouted, tactically capturing Latasha’s attention away from Connor. It may have only been a temporary fix was the most she could do without giving away her feelings.

“Don’t worry, baby! Mommy’s getting to work!” said Latasha, unaware of how much her chipper attitude stood in direct contrast with the feelings of just about everyone who shared the room with her. Instead, all she could think about was how excited she was to finally have a weekend alone with Skye for the first time in so long. With Connor and the other Littles around at all times, she often felt she didn’t do enough to make Skye feel like her special Little girl. A weekend retreat to an ABDL convention was just what the doctor ordered! “I hope everyone’s hungry, cuz Mama’s cooking up something extra yummy!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

#diaper art #diaper stories #crissiebaby #little space #ab/dl #ab/dl stories #ab/dl art #ab/dl sissy #diaper sissy #sissybaby #diaper humiliation #md/lg #dirty diaper #diaper messy #wetting diaper #crissbabydiaperco #the padded palace #thepaddedpalace

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mustardyellowsunshine · 3 years

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When the End Comes, III

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

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Chapter 3: Bitter Water

Goddamn, her hand hurt. Were his abs made of granite or something?

Kagome flapped her throbbing hand as she ran, as though she could shake off the pain in her knuckles, and made a beeline for her car. She could see it now, the little gray Honda Fit that had essentially become her home. She was maybe a hundred feet away from it.

Willing her legs to move faster in a final burst of speed, Kagome didn’t even try to swerve around the people standing in her path: she clipped several shoulders and nearly shoved a man over without breaking her stride. Seventy feet became thirty feet became fifteen feet… Fumbling with the key fob in the pocket of her jeans, she felt a fluttering hope in the pit of her stomach. She was going to make it!

The headlights flashed twice as the car unlocked. Kagome stretched her arm forward, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the driver’s side door…

Just as the door started to swing open, a clawed hand shot out from behind her and slammed it closed again.

She yelped as she was none-too-gently shoved against the side of her car, her cheek pressed flat against the warm metal. A body pressed in behind her, and warm breath fanned the side of her face.

“Fucking hell,” the man snarled as his hands gripped both her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back. He wrestled the key fob from her clenched fingers, pocketed it in his jeans.

“I was wrong, you are stupid,” he grunted as he started lashing her wrists together with some kind of rope—it felt thick and almost elastic, like a bungee cord.

She tried to shove away from the car, tried to wrench her hands free. But he was so strong, it was like trying to muscle through a brick wall. His body kept her effortlessly pinned as he finished knotting the rope around her wrists.

Frustration and the sour bite of panic rose in her throat. Her stomach clenched hard. Her wrists were tied back-to-back, the knuckles of each hand pressed together, palms facing outward; the position twisted her forearms and elbows at an uncomfortable angle, limiting her arms' range of motion as effectively as the rope itself. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she grit her teeth.

“Right, how stupid of me,” she seethed, “to run away from a kidnapper.”

She felt him step back. His hand gripped her shoulder and he tugged her around to face him.

The silver of his hair nearly glowed in the afternoon light. His ears twitched, shifting atop his head as though analyzing every sound around them. His jaw—sharp and defined—looked tense, like he was trying not to grind his teeth. Those golden eyes were narrowed on her face.

But what struck Kagome instantly was the expression on his face. He didn’t look triumphant or sneering, wasn’t gloating down at her the way she’d expected. The way Naraku’s other hunters had looked at her when they’d caught her in the past. No, he was scowling at her as though he was considering a difficult crossword puzzle, sussing out a complicated riddle for which he was rapidly losing patience.

“Tch,” he snorted, “I’m the least of your problems. And that dumb fucking stunt you just pulled was as good as waving a neon sign at a couple of your bigger problems.”

He was yanking on her arm before she could think to respond, dragging her around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the passenger door and forced her inside, taking an extra spare moment to buckle her into the seat. In the time it took her to blink, he’d slammed the door and was already sliding into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she breathed out, tone curiously flat.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, craning his head to look over his shoulder as he backed the car out into the street. In a matter of moments they were zipping down the road.

Sitting there, arms tied behind her back, watching a strange man drive her car—the only thing resembling a safe place left in her life—Kagome struggled to absorb the reality of the situation. She felt strangely detached from herself. The panic and anger she’d felt moments before were peripheral now—still present, but somehow remote, just on the fringes of her awareness—an odd numbness spreading through her in their wake.

So it surprised her—and him, judging by the way his body jolted in his seat—when a bark of laughter erupted from her throat, hollow and bitter. She said with hoarse resignation, “Why don’t you just kill me now?”

His eyes flicked to her, then back to the road in front of him. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He said nothing.

Her left shoulder slumped against the car door, and she rested her temple on the window, staring listlessly at the passing buildings. “Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor at this point.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, tone clipped and terse.

She laughed again. “Sure, that’s why you threatened to slice my throat.”

She kept her gaze on the window, but it sounded to her like he was scowling again when he replied, “I had to get us both out of there fast, and without drawing attention. Fear is a good motivator.” He paused, then added with unmistakable irritation, “You shot all that to hell, though. We’ll be lucky if we make it to the next town without trouble.”

Kagome lifted her head and turned to stare at him. Anger started bleeding through the numbness smothering her brain. “Oh, a thousand apologies for giving you trouble.”

“You gave yourself trouble, idiot.” A growl rumbled up from his chest, and he glared at the windshield in front of him. “Forget the people on the street—do you know how many goddamn cameras there are in public places? It won’t be hard for the right people to find footage of that spectacle you made. You think it’ll be hard for them to track you once they have it?”

She couldn’t do anything but stare at him in disbelief. “Spectacle I made? You abducted me! You tied me up! You—” She stopped, unable to speak around the anger brewing in her chest. Finally she growled low in her throat, “You’re the trouble! Stop with the damn act now. It’s insulting. I know you’re taking me to Naraku.”

He stiffened, arms noticeably tensing. The look he shot her could’ve pierced steel. “I don’t work for that fucking bastard.”

There came the hollow laugh from her throat again, raw and pained. “Right. Never heard that one before.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and couldn’t bring herself to care about the weakness it showed.

A beat passed. His voice was still rough, but it had an almost thoughtful quality when he said, “Been tricked by Naraku’s lackeys one too many times, huh?”

When she didn’t respond, he sighed and then said quietly, “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me. But I’m not taking you to Naraku. I swear it.”

They sat in silence for some time. She watched him carefully. His arms were still stiff, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. His eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, despite the fact that traffic had thinned considerably when they reached the more rural outskirts of the suburbs. He certainly looked like someone expecting to be followed.

Why the hell would a hunter working for Naraku act so on edge? And after he’d already captured his quarry?

She didn’t believe him, not really... but eyeing him thoughtfully, she found herself saying, “Let’s pretend I believe you. If you’re not taking me to Naraku, then where are you taking me?”

Golden eyes met and held hers. “Somewhere safe.”

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha AU #Inuyasha fanfiction #InuKag #Inuyasha fanfic #my writing #When the End Comes

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 3 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 4 / 5

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~Cassian~

By the time I sneak in the apartment, it’s the middle of the night. The boxes in the corner tell me my fiancé is here, has officially moved in with me, and I take a moment to appreciate how fucking weird that feels.

I might be appreciative of all things women and have definitely earned my reputation as a player, but I’ve never had a woman live in my place.

It’s... weird.

I walk quietly through the place, passing the guest room she’s sleeping in, and into my room.

Then pause, because it turns out she’s not in the guest room.

Nesta’s sprawled in my bed, on my side, hair spilling over my pillow like liquid sunshine. The moon seems to favor her, highlighting the features I have a hard enough time avoiding looking at during the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about how much more difficult it’s going to be to sleep now.

But I refuse to leave my own room, since this very well could be a power play, so I just walk to the attached bathroom, close the door, and sigh.

Looking in the mirror proves I look like shit, and I wonder what Nesta will think when she wakes up next to me.

She probably won’t care.

I have a feeling it takes something pretty drastic to shake that blasé attitude out of her.

After taking a cold shower to minimize the bruising, I pad across the room, grab some boxers, and slide into bed next to my blushing bride to be.

She shifts and turns onto her side, and I realize she’s stolen one of my t-shirts to sleep in. It’s ridiculously big on her, falling off her shoulders, and not nearly thick enough to hide what’s underneath.

Fucking hell.

Even asleep, I can’t ignore her.

Her smell--citrus and jasmine and vanilla--is fucking all over me, stuffing itself in my nostrils and not letting me relax.

I’ve never been this attracted to how a woman smells.

Most times, perfumes and lotions and whatever other sorcery women lather on themselves has the opposite effect, actually.

But all I can think about right now is rolling over and burying my face in her neck. Then burying a different part of me in her.

Even though I should turn over and at least try to sleep, I let myself look at her.

Her lips are slightly parted and look like they’d taste like candy, and there’s a serene, peaceful expression on her face that’s so different from the fierce one she usually wears.

She wiggles, somehow sliding closer, and murmurs, “Stop staring at me.”

I chuckle, and the simple fact that we’re laying in bed whispering to each other does strange things to my head.

Nesta apparently agrees, turning over and facing away from me. I take a moment to appreciate the sweep of her hips, and she seems to know exactly what I’m looking at when she says, “Goodnight, pervert.”

A smile threatens to bloom, so I wipe my hand across my face and smother it.

Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.

When I wake up, I amend my statement. Marriage definitely won’t be so bad.

I’m wrapped around around Nesta--which probably happened the instant I fell asleep--and my nose is against the soft skin of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the smell of her over and over again.

She just feels... right.

She’s relaxed against me, which is surprising, considering where my hand is.

One very numb arm is under her head as a makeshift pillow, but it’s the other one that’s interesting. It’s wrapped around her narrow waist, holding her tight to my chest and ending in the hand cupping her breast.

She’ll probably kill me the second she wakes up, but it might be worth it.

Fuck, she feels good against me.

But I realize I’m acting like the pervert she accused me of being, so I slide my hand down, towards the more neutral territory of her stomach.

I’m helpless, however, to stop myself from kissing the side of her neck softly.

She stirs, and I freeze like a red-handed thief.

But she just turns over in my arms, pressing her front to mine, and slips an arm around my waist, sighing sleepily. Her hand roams over my back, nails raising goosebumps in their wake as they softly trace over my skin.

She blinks her eyes open, takes in our tangled up position, and says simply, “Huh.”

“Yeah,” I respond like a monosyllabic idiot.

Clear blue eyes on mine, she brings her hand up to my face and lightly touches the split lip I’m sure is puffy as hell.

Fucker had a fast right hook.

“You made me a lot of money last night,” she murmurs, tapping my lip once, then twice.

“What?” I ask, too turned on and dizzy to focus on what she said.

She was there? She saw me fight?

A strange sense of male pride goes through me at that, considering I won.

“I had the bookie place a bet for me,” Nesta says, stopping that caveman train of thought in its tracks.

“How’d you know?”

I keep my fighting far away from the public’s eye, going clear across town to Lucky’s. It’s a small shipping company, and Lucky, the man who runs the place, uses some empty containers to host fights every week.

He knows who I am but doesn’t care, claiming he’s too old to be scared of some “young Mafia punk.” He also doesn’t allow cell phones or recordings, and there’s no written records of the fights.

She raises an eyebrow. “You realize Alexei owns that entire shipping yard, right?”

I had not.

“Huh,” I say, stealing her line from a minute ago. “And you bet on me? Why?”

“Call it intuition.”

I remember the way her eyes tracked over me yesterday, like there wasn’t anything she didn’t see, and I realize she knew I like to fight from the second she saw me.

“Glad I could help pad your bank account,” I tell her, smiling. “And I’m glad you make yourself at home in my absence. But just for future reference... I sleep on that side of the bed.”

She leans in, lips an inch from mine, and whispers, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

A rough smile is all the warning I give her before I pull her close and turn over, practically throwing her to the other side of the bed.

I don’t know what I expect her to do, but it sure as hell isn’t jab me in the ribs, crawl over me, and retake her original spot.

Prodding my ribs, I notice she hit me right on a pressure point. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She grins, a challenge lighting up her bright eyes and making her look even more alive.

“Oh, malyshka,” I whisper, somehow knowing calling her a pet name will piss her off. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Bring it, stronzo,” she shoots back, calling me an asshole in my own fucking language. Disrespectful.

I grab her wrists to try and pin her, but she’s fucking fast as an adder, slipping out from underneath me and poking me in the ribs again.

I step it up a notch, and for a few moments, we’re busy wrestling in bed.

It’s honest to God the most fun I’ve had in ages.

I’ve never met a woman who knows how to fight, much less one I can’t seem to pin. I have a hundred pounds on her, yet more than once, I’m the one struggling.

She continues pressing pressure points, some I never even knew existed, and despite the fact it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, I find myself laughing.

By the time I eventually just tackle her and press her into the mattress with my weight, I’m out of breath and can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it is.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, my legs on top of hers to keep her from doing something clever like kneeing me in the balls. “Slippery little sucker, aren’t you?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she tilts her head back and laughs.

Watching that stony exterior crack might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.

She comes alive, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her laugh is a beautiful sound, light and airy and I can’t stop myself.

I drop down and kiss her, pressing my smile to hers.

She stops laughing.

And then she sighs, and the sound is so goddamn pretty I almost can’t take it.

She pushes up on my hands, hands wanting freedom, so I release her wrists and brace myself on my elbows above her. Nesta winds her arms around me, hands delving in my hair, and kisses me back.

I try to keep my weight off her, but she’s having none of that and wraps her legs around me and pulls me down, fusing our hips together.

I press myself against her, and she arches up in response, drawing a low sound out of my throat.

Now that my hands are free, they roam through her hair, across her sides, down her thighs.

She’s so goddamn soft.

She moves against me like it’s second nature, kisses me like she can’t get enough.

And when I move to kiss a path down her throat, inhaling that intoxicating scent as I suck on her skin, she softly moans my name. I feel like I’m on fire, and her saying my name like that that does absolutely nothing to help, so I bite on the junction between her shoulder and neck in retaliation for being so addictive.

She says my name, then again, and I notice it isn’t in the same soft tone as before.

My head snaps up, gaze finding hers to try and figure out if I did something wrong.

Her lips and cheek are rosy, blonde hair a halo around her.

“I think we should wait,” she states, even though she doesn’t make a move to leave or throw me off. And I know now she definitely could.

“For what?”

Her lips twitch. “Our wedding.”

It takes me a long time to respond. “Are you a-”

“No,” she says, looking at me with a teasing look in her eyes.

“Oh.”

“I just think it’d make it better,” she reasons.

Personally, I think it’d be perfect right the hell now, but I nod like I’m not hard enough to deform the mattress I’m pressing my hips into. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she mutters back, and we spend a moment lying there, breathing each other’s air. Until, “I should probably get up, then.”

Because I suddenly know a total of one word, I just reply, “Okay.”

I roll off of her and onto my back, putting a hand over my eyes so I’m not tempted to look at her ass as she gets up and pads to the bathroom.

I listen to her shower and get ready, all the while wondering how the absolute hell I’m going to live with her, have her sleep in my bed, without actually having sex with her.

She’s tempting enough wearing fucking work clothes, but if I wake up again with her in my arms? Fuck.

I could always go to someone else, but for some strange reason, the thought of being like every other man in the Cosa Nostra and having a mistress makes me sick. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a matter of two whole days, I’ve become completely wrapped around Nesta’s finger and don’t want to hurt her like that.

The object of my obsession comes out, walking over to the closet in a towel, and I look at the ceiling in misery.

Maybe I should stay in the guest room.

By the time I can breathe again and have gotten over the feeling of my balls fucking falling off, Nesta’s gone. She got dressed like nothing was the matter, asked if I was going to sit on my ass all day, and told me she’d be back later tonight as she slipped out the door.

It’s still early, and I wonder for a second where she’s going, but then shrug and stop sitting around pining.

I put on a dark suit--something I only do when I have corporate shit to do--and drive further downtown to Sera. It’s my first day, and I scheduled an all-staff to meet everyone and introduce myself.

I park and walk through the bank, nodding to the teller who opens the secondary bank door and lets me in the club. People are waiting inside, which is a little strange since I’m five minutes early, but I’m not complaining.

I take in the faces I’ve spent the past couple days memorizing as people file in. The staff is interesting, to say the least. More than a few have records, and some are from places of the world I’ve never heard of.

The investors come in last, the only corporate-looking people in the room. They come up and shake my hand while the employees choose to watch me with a strange look in their eyes.

Once everyone’s inside and seated, I smile and introduce myself.

“My name is Cassian Azara. I’m the new owner of Sera, and I just wanted to come by, introduce myself, and meet you guys.” No one smiles back or says anything, but I don’t let it bother me. “The change in management won’t impact the day to day aspect too much. I like the way things are and don’t plan on changing anything, but let me know if you need anything or have suggestions.”

One woman sitting in the back speaks up, her voice clipped and irritated. “What’s the point of taking over, if you aren’t changing anything?”

I don’t really know what to say, so I ask back, “Do you have a suggestion?”

She rolls her eyes, looking pissed as hell, and pulls out her phone.

Weird.

I stop speaking to the group, and the investors make a point to shake my head again. After they’re gone, I walk around to introduce myself individually, finding the general vibe to be... definitely not welcome.

I understand it’s weird for a stranger to come in and claim they’re the boss, but I just said it shouldn’t impact their lives too much, so I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting.

Some people ignore me, some look at me with irritation, and some just get up and leave.

I turn to the bartender, one of the only ones who didn’t act like he wants to stab me with a rusty knife, as he leaves. “Is there a reason they all hate me?”

He gives me a strange look over his shoulder. “We’re all pretty fond of the previous owner.”

Alexei? These people all like Alexei?

I’ve never heard a nice word about that man, but I guess he won their loyalty over time.

Whatever. If these people like that cold bastard, they’re sure to love me.

What feels like a full twenty-four hours later, I walk through the door to my apartment and realize how fucking wrong I was.

The employees of Sera do not like me. I dealt with business of my own after the quick meet and greet this morning, then came back to do management stuff at six.

Immediately, I was met with complaints and broken things and inventory problems and about a million other things I don’t have to deal with at my other properties.

I’ve never met a group of people so difficult to work with.

Nesta eyes me as I come through the door, tilting her head curiously. “You look like shit.”

There’s something... interesting about her tone, but I shrug it off.

I wish I could lie and say she looks bad, too, but she somehow looks perfect and fresh as a daisy after whatever she’s done all day.

“Long day.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the top of her laptop.

“The employees at Sera, one of your dad’s old clubs, aren’t too happy with me taking over. They were a pain in the ass all day.”

Nesta looks at me for a while, something I can’t read playing in her gaze. “Huh.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and fling myself down next to her, looking over at her with my patented bedroom eyes. “You know what would make me feel so much better?” I ask, innuendo making the answer pretty obvious.

“Minet?”

My brow furrows. “I don’t know what that means.”

She sighs, getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head in a way that makes her dress slide up her thighs. “Look it up, big boy. I’m going to bed. And before you ask, no, that isn’t an invitation.”

“Stay on your side,” I warn with a grin. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass again.”

Nesta just scoffs, taking her laptop up the stairs and disappearing into my... our room.

I look up minet, smile, and yell, “That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She doesn’t respond, but I hear soft laughter and know she heard me.

Sighing about my lack of minet, I pull out my own computer, planning on going through some of the complaints I received tonight. But something makes me pause and remember the look on Nesta’s face when I told her about my day.

And her tone... it was amusement, I realize.

I pull up the deed and find out why.

Sera, and the building it’s hidden within, never belonged to Alexei. They were bought and built by little miss Nesta Orlov.

Interesting.

I keep digging and find out why the employees there are so loyal to her. One way or another, she saved them. All of them.

The bartender with the criminal record who struggled to find employment, the street performer who was sleeping on a park bench, the dancer who was denied a VISA until Nesta met with the governor on her behalf.

Every single employee is somehow bound to Nesta, somehow in her debt.

It’s fucking genius.

Instead of spending money to buy loyalty, she chose people who’d give it to her for the simple price of a job.

No wonder they hate me.

Maybe it’ll blow over when we announce our engagement at the party and they realize she’s still in the picture.

Although for some reason, I have the strange feeling that what happened today was just the beginning.

____________________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf #acosf fanfiction #nesta archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #a court of mist and fury

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

Text

So @pitviperofdoom wrote a beautiful piece I have not stopped thinking about a while ago with QPPs Jon and Gerry that you should go and read here. They kindly allowed to let me go off on a tangent inspired by it, so here’s a conversation from the night before that fic where I just get emotional over these two and let myself indulge in their dynamic.

Background GerryOliver and JonMartin. Warnings for alcohol consumption and general drunkenness.

“Who’re you gonna bring, eh?”

It was rounding on eleven o’clock, and they were both sprawled about the room, letting the dull buzz of alcohol set in. Jon was slumped on the couch, and Gerry had, at some point, collapsed into the IKEA chair with the weird curved bar holding it up that Jon had never quite trusted the stability of. He’d kicked off his boots after they’d finished eating, his socked feet now resting on the coffee table, nestled between discarded takeaway boxes and bottles of drink. The scotch still stood there uncapped, and minus three glasses. Jon had taken one when Gerry had poured it for him, and Gerry a second after that, while Jon switched to some dark, fruity cider Gerry had found for him at the back of the fridge.

Jon jolted slightly. “What?” He was on his second bottle and the only thing stopping him from nodding off then and there was the fact that suddenly, the fridge was humming incredibly loudly and it was a great distraction. That’s what he gets for getting hammered on a friday straight from work. Was he hammered? A bottle and a half of cider and one glass of scotch didn’t seem like enough to do that but the way that persistent buzzing was pounding at his skull suggested maybe that was enough for the evening.

“Well you get a plus one. Two, if you want, best man privileges and all that.”

Jon’s mouth was dry. He should really get some water. But also, he didn’t really like the thought of having to stand up. “I… Don’t know. I usually bring you.” He pulled a face. “I’m not sure I know anyone that you wouldn’t be inviting anyway.”

“No one from team spooky you’d want to bring to cry on after you walk me down the isle?”

Gerry let out an overdramatic ‘Oof’ as Jon half heartedly attempted to reach over and slap him on the leg. “Stop! Calling us! That!”

“I’ll stop calling you it when the shoe stops fitting. You’re a spooky little team that investigates spooky spooky things. You’re gonna have to accept that one day.”

“Says the man in the process of opening an exclusively horror-based bookshop with his- Well I suppose he’s going to be your husband now. Huh. God, I feel old.”

“I will not hear the good name of ‘Spine Chilling’ slandered in my household Jonathan! And- Well fuck, yeah, you’ve got a point there don’t you. Shit, when did I become ‘Bookshop Husband #2’. We used to be cool. Now we pay taxes and shit. Ripe old age of thirty.”

Jon laughed, and it only hurt his head a little bit. Small mercies. “I would argue you’re still rather cool. In my books at least.” He paused for a moment, letting the air settle into a more sombre tone. “Do you… Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Gerry said, running his fingers along the ring that rested on his left hand. He shifted in his seat, and began to tug his hair out of the plait that had been draped over one shoulder. “You never answered the question though. What’ll it be, are we going to have to drunk find you a date? I’m sure there’s an app for fake wedding dates now. Bloody app for everything.”

“Do I need one?” Jon replied, and it came out dangerously close to a whine.

“Well no, but I can’t pay attention to you all day because apparently I’ll have a husband to stare in wonder at or some shit, and Georgie might snap if you spend more than an hour crying on her. And don’t give me that look, you’ll cry! You always say you won’t but you teared up earlier when I told you so I am doing my duty and trying to get you a cuddle buddy.”

“That’s-” Jon started, sounding almost tetchy, before deflating slightly. With Gerry, at least, he knew when to admit defeat. “Okay, so you might have a point… Has Oliver picked anyone out already?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh, christ.”

“Yup. Well what did you expect? Jane is his best friend, I’m sorry I know you don’t get on but I can’t exactly tell him no, you can tolerate each other for a day!”

“Worms! All over my archive! How she got them past Rosie still boggles the mind, and really-”

Gerry waved a hand as he tried to cut him off, “Okay, okay, yes I’ve heard the story more than once, I get it, I won’t even put you at the same table. If it makes it better I’ll see what whatever venue we choose’s policy on animals is. Admiral seems like he’d make a good emotional support cat. Get him a little tux or something.”

“As much as I like the idea, I’m not quite sure he’d appreciate it. Unless you’re getting wed in somewhere with copious amounts of radiators, I think he’d be better off at home.”

“You don’t know!” Gerry said, pointing wildly, some of his energy seeming to kick back in after managing to maintain a conscious conversation, “Could be getting hitched in a radiator factory. That’d be something.”

And Jon was glad Gerry was starting to feel more lively, but by the way laughter made his head pound he certainly was not. He smiled through the grimace. “Maybe so.” He had apparently, in a stroke of genius earlier, left himself a glass of water on the table. He’d take that about now, thanks.

“What about Martin?”

And now there was water spilled down his front. Great. “I’m sorry?” He sputtered.

“Don’t apologise, it’ll dry.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jon growled, setting the water back down.

Gerry gave him a faux sweet smile. There was a lapse in the conversation while Jon tugged his jumper off and tossed it onto the sofa next to him. Once he was done wrestling with the wool, Gerry spoke up again. “Seriously though, what about him? I haven’t seen you act like that with anyone since Georgie.”

“I act like that with you!” Jon cried.

“Yes, but I’m special,” Gerry said, pressing his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss across the room. “And also, you did just admit you act a specific way with him, so. Check and mate.”

“I hate drunk Jon,” he muttered. “Okay, so, we go out for lunch sometimes, and that means I have more anecdotes to tell about him than Tim or Sasha, so I end up talking about him more. And I notice more things about him, like how he has more freckles in the summer than the rest of the year, but that’s just because he spends more time in my office because he seems determined to win the record for most tea made in a workplace environment in a year. So what?”

Gerry looked intolerably smug. “Oh, no, you keep going with your list there, really proving your point.”

Jon groaned. “Shut up.”

“Okay, I will, I will, I just.. You do clearly like him Jon. And I won’t pressure you into anything, obviously, but just give yourself a chance, huh? You’re discarding the thought out of hand.”

Jon made a ‘humph’ of petulance. “Right. Fine. Okay. When’s the wedding?”

“Will you refuse to come if I say Halloween?”

“I will get around to mocking it later, but no. That’s what…” And admittedly, the alcohol was enough that he had to count on his fingers for this one, “Nine? Nine months away?”

“You got it in the end.”

“Once again, Mr Delano-Banks, shut your mouth-”

“Hey-”

“I will update you in eight months time. Until then you are not to bring it up. Deal?”

Gerry stuck out a bottom lip, “Not sure I was expecting that to be how I heard that name for the first time, but wow, okay. And yes, that’s a deal.”

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I am promptly about to pass out on your sofa.”

Gerry got up and stretched, the sound of his knuckles popping making Jon cringe. He glanced up at the clock, before moving the offending jumper away and letting himself drop down on the sofa next to Jon. “Not even midnight yet. What’d I say. Old men, the both of us.”

“Shush. Pillows can’t talk,” Jon muttered, gently manoeuvring his partner so they were both lying horizontal on the sofa, before burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder.

“G’night” he muttered into the sofa fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Gerry said, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair. “I am too.”

#My Post #god I struggle to write for SO LONG. and then these two have me writing 1.5K in one sitting. huh #Jongerry #The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Gerard Keay #Gerry Delano #the professional tag and the better tag #... okay so it has it referenced so I can get away with tagging it #Jonmartin #My Writing

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

#by the books (5)

#corporate masterlist

summary: seokjin helps you come to several epiphanies. you wrestle with your growing fondness with jungkook, while determining how to talk to him. word count: 5570 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, some alc a/n: this is part 2/3 of being in tokyo!

SUNDAY

Seokjin knows something is wrong when you don’t respond to his texts for over fourteen hours. It’s well into Sunday morning, closer to the afternoon, when he makes the executive decision to camp out outside your hotel room until you let him in. He knows you’ve been on your phone- you’ve been on Instagram. You’re just avoiding him, and probably the rest of the world. As you usually tend to do, when you’re upset.

You don’t know what to do. You’ve never yelled at someone the way you yelled at Jungkook last night, much less literally ran away from someone like that. Embarrassment colors your memories, internally cringing when you replay the night’s events in your mind. It plays like a movie, the same moment mocking you incessantly. Jungkook’s heartbroken, doe eyes haunt you- you’ve barely been able to sleep because you’ve struggled coming to terms with the fact that you put that look on his face.

The reflection in your mirror disgusts you. And yet, you still do nothing about it, burying yourself under the duvet and ignoring anything that wasn’t sleep. It’s easier that way.

Your phone rings again- it’s Jin. You ignore his call. That’s your first mistake. He nearly screeches your name outside the door to your hotel room, menacingly knocking on your door. He’s clearly on a mission to piss off everyone who had the bad luck to be staying in the hotel rooms adjacent to you.

“I’m sleeping,” You shout easily, your voice muffled from the comforter.

“Open the damn door,” Jin demands and you groan. He won’t stop until you let him in, much to your chagrin. You just want to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, is that too much to ask for?

So you finally force yourself out of the bed and drag your feet to the door. “You look like fuckin’ shit,” Jin remarks, taking in your bleary eyes and the permanent frown on your face.

“Thanks, Seokjin. Just what every girl wants to hear,” You mutter and burrow yourself in bed once more. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gets under the covers next to you, curling into your side. Like he’s done a million times before.

“Leave me alone, Jin,” You mumble, without any real heat in your voice, “Yuna wouldn’t like this. Your girlfriend wouldn’t like you to be in bed with another girl-”

“Shut up, stupid. You’re not just another girl,” Jin dismisses you, only tightening his hold around your waist.

“Go away,” You try again, rather weakly. Instead, you let your hand sit on top of his. You both lay together in silence like that for a while. His presence always calms you down, brings you back up a few notches.

“I did something awful last night,” You finally say, voice hoarse from disuse.

“What did you do?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I yelled at Jungkook in front of my favorite ice cream shop… and then ran away from him.”

“What did you yell at him for?”

You tell him- you tell him how he told you he couldn’t keep up with you, how he called you his dream girl, how you screamed at him that your dad died and that you dropped out of school because you couldn’t handle it, how just seeing Jungkook reminded you of when you were happier.

“I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, Jin,” You mutter, pressing your face further into your pillow, “A-and how can he say I was his dream girl, I’m just such an-”

“Shh,” Jin says, muffling your mouth with his hand. Once you stop your self-deprecating train of thought, he pulls his hand away. Jin lays with you in silence once more, only running a hand over your upper arm to soothe you.

“Let’s go get lunch,” Jin suggests and he already hears the protest about to erupt from your lips, “You look like shit and I know you haven’t eaten. Go shower and wear something new. I’ll wait.”

You groan before forcing yourself out of the bed and dragging your feet into the bathroom. Jin rolls his eyes when you shoot a death glare in his direction. Jin was right- the hot water against your skin was soothing. You welcomed the stinging of the water as it pelted your skin with open arms. Feeling a little better coming out of the shower than you did going into the shower, you change into day clothes.

“Lookin’ better already,” Jin says, pulling you into a side hug.

Why is Jin friends with you, when you can’t stand yourself some days? You don’t know what he sees in you. Not when you seem to hurt everyone around you, so selfishly, as if it’s second nature.

But he keeps you close to him, his arm tight around your shoulder and those thoughts don’t throb in your mind as much as they usually do.

Jin sits across from you in a small, quiet ramen shop. You’re in a corner, away from most of the other patrons. There’s only four other people here, including the waitress. Jin says nothing about your outburst at Jungkook from the night before, only noisily slurping his ramen and then screeching with he bites his lip accidentally.

“You eat too fast,” You admonish, shaking your head when he rubs his bottom lip gingerly. Jin immediately takes his phone out to take a selfie and sends it to Yuna, claiming that he needs a kiss to make it better. You roll your eyes fondly and smile at him.

Puppy love is cute on him.

“So,” Jin finally says and your heart races. His tone has instantly shifted to a little more quiet, a little more serious.

“What do I do, Jin?” You whisper, shoulders slumping and avoiding his eyes, “He didn’t know. The kid didn’t know why I left, that Appa died- a-and I don’t know why he’s so hung up over it either. ‘Snot like we were friends like that back then anyway… God, Jin, you should’ve seen the look on his face before I ran away, like a fuckin’ coward.”

You hold your head in your hands above your half finished bowl of ramen and groan. “What a mess. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“Jungkook considered you friends back then,” Jin says slowly, “As far as I know, at least. I mean, I remember him being excited to see you every week for those mentor mentee sessions. And how grateful he was when you pulled him away from mean girls. He’s sensitive, you remember at least that much, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” You laugh despite your misery, “Used to call him Bambi back in the day. He’d get so flustered. But… I just- like, I told him it hurt too much to even look at him. Because he reminded me of when I was happy. Who fuckin’ does that?”

“But are you happy now?” Jin asks bluntly, slurping another mouthful of noodles.

“I don’t… know,” You murmur, “I think I can be.”

“Happy isn’t a constant thing. You won’t be happy all the time, the same way you won’t be sad all the time. But the last few years have been so hard. Let yourself be happy, sweetheart,” Jin says, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “Happy back then doesn’t have to be the same as happy now.”

“How do I just be happy?” You wonder out loud, making a mental note to talk to your therapist about this.

“I don’t know, but for starters, talk to Jungkook. He considered you both friends. You hurt his feelings when you left without a word. And he’s hurt now. And… I know you spent a long time blocking out the last few years, blocking out all of the bad. But there was some good, too.”

“Can’t believe he called me his dream girl. What does he know?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest but you feel a little lighter.

“You gonna tell me you didn’t like that?” Jin asks smugly.

“I didn’t!” You protest unconvincingly. Jin says nothing, only eyeing you with a knowing smile.

“You’re fooling no one. Eat your ramen, stupid.”

And so you do, the spicy broth curling in your belly as if it’s your home.

It feels like it’s been too long since you had spoken to Grandma, so you call her the minute you and Jin part ways. You tell her about the events of the past few days- how you had met up with friends you hadn’t seen in years. And how you had screamed at Jungkook undeservedly-

“I miss Appa,” You mumble, eyes watering, “He would be so upset with me. For the way I’ve been acting. Like he never existed, never talking about him…”

“He’d just want you to be happy, honey,” Grandma says kindly, “And to forgive yourself. To allow yourself to love and be loved.”

And then you cry some more. Grandma does, too.

Later, when you drive Jin, Jimin and Hoseok to the airport, all three of them wrap you up in tight hugs. As if you wouldn’t be in the same city as them in less than 48 hours. You promise to keep in touch with Jimin and Hoseok. Maybe they believe you, because they both hug you again with bright smiles.

MONDAY

Today’s the day. It’s the day that the Seoul team meets the Tokyo team face to face for the first time. Excitement brims in your blood- you’re certain that you have a lot to learn from this team. They’ve been a part of more submissions than your smaller team had been, and it had been a big surprise that Namjoon was named as the main lead of the project. But he was more than capable, as he had shown in the last few months.

The Tokyo team consists of Lisa, Irene, Minhyuk and they’re led by Mark. Mark, who you’ve known for about as long as you’ve been with the company. He had started with you in Seoul, in the same position and had quickly moved up in the ladder. Which seems to be the case for a lot of people, namely men, around you. He had actually beat you out for the job that he currently had. It had left a sour taste in your mouth for a long time- what did he have that you didn’t? But slowly, with time, you had gotten over it. After all, the job was in Tokyo, and you don’t think you were ready for that kind of move at the time. Everything happens for a reason, or so they say.

The company office in Tokyo is a little older than the one in Seoul- after all, the Seoul office had been recently renovated. If there was a word to describe the Seoul office, it was sleek and modern. You quite liked it.

Minhyuk had picked you, Jungkook, Sana and Namjoon up in the lobby to take you to the conference room that you would be working in. He’s a chatterbox, telling you about the history of the building, how long he’s been with the company and how grateful he is to be part of this team.

Jungkook tunes him out, nodding when needed and asking questions when appropriate. He casts his eyes over to you despite himself. You had put on a little more makeup today than usual, trying to conceal the puffiness of your eyes. Not that Jungkook could tell. He thinks you’re pretty. And the way you chew on your glossy bottom lip as you listen to Minhyuk- he thinks you’re cute, too.

You’re hyper aware of Jungkook’s presence next to you as you walk through the hallways and finally reach the conference room. He sits across from you, and for the first time since Saturday night, you allow yourself the luxury of looking at him. Despite a room full of new faces, the only person you want to look at is him. His dark hair is softly tousled over his forehead, barely there dimples dotted in his cheeks when he smiles at his new team members.

His gaze is transfixed on Mark and Namjoon, as they introduce themselves formally to each other and the rest of the team respectively. Mark’s eyes brighten when he sees you, but he keeps it professional, only shaking your hand with a smile that borders on a smirk.

Irene and Lisa eye you almost warily, until you introduce yourself to them with a warm handshake and a warm smile. You’ve been told you have an intimidating persona when people first meet you- in fact, your boss is the one who always tells you to smile more. What a jerk.

Mark and Namjoon both present on the mission and the objectives of the submission, and then what each individual team will be responsible for. You take a sip of your coffee, and cast your eyes around the room. Irene, Lisa, Sana and Minhyuk are intently listening to Mark and Namjoon and taking notes. While you’re staring at Jungkook.

And he’s staring back at you.

You pull your eyes away first, heart doing almost painful somersaults in your chest. You don’t mind being caught at staring at him, but you just feel like there is so much you need to say to him.

Like apologize. You need to apologize for unloading and dumping on him when he didn’t ask for it. But then, his smile fades and his doe eyes are sad. Because of you. It’s all because of you.

You and Namjoon present your slides for your team’s plan going forward, with details on the timelines and deliverables. Jungkook and Sana will be working on the logistics piece to organize another face-to-face workshop, and for the next one, the Tokyo team will come to Seoul.

Despite the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on you, you speak clearly and confidently. Jungkook loves the sound of your voice, the way it floats out into the room and wraps itself around him comfortingly.

Even when you had yelled at him outside of the ice cream shop, about how your Appa had died, about dropping out of school, and about how seeing him reminded you of when you were happy… Even then, he could never wince at the sound of your voice.

Jungkook was pissed that nobody had told him- that he had gone this long thinking so selfishly about you. He could have never have fathomed the gravity of your circumstance. He had yelled at Jimin the next day, but Jimin had only yelled back at him-

“She dropped off the face of the earth! She wanted nothing to do with us and it was her thing to tell!”

“So she was all alone that whole time? Because you all thought it was her thing to tell?”

“Don’t act like you’re better than all of us just because you didn’t know! You and I didn’t reconnect until recently, how was I supposed to tell you? And we tried to reach out to her. She shut us out, literally. What could we do if she ignored us for five fuckin’ years?”

You were alone. With your Grandma and with Seokjin. But still, alone, and possibly thinking that nobody was checking on you. Even if there is truth to Jimin’s words, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s too late. If he had known…. Well, what would he have done?

This crush of his feels more and more childish as days go by. And yet, when you look at him, the way you’re looking at him now. With softness lined in your irises, he can’t help it.

He can’t help but look back at you. Maybe you can see his apology in his face.

“Hi,” A voice comes from your left side. You’re at the coffee bar, refilling your second cup of coffee before noon. His voice is reserved, almost shy. Your heart seizes up immediately at the sound of it.

“Morning, Jungkook,” You say breathlessly, grateful for the coffee cup in your hand for something to hold on to. To channel your nervous energy into.

“Morning,” Jungkook says softly, “Can I talk to you later? Maybe after the happy hour?” He asks, hope shining in his voice and sparkling in his eyes.

No- it was supposed to be you who would reach out to apologize. After all, you were the one who had screamed in his face and ran away. He’s probably only reaching out out of pity, you think cynically. Nevertheless, it throws you off.

And apparently, since you’re the keeper of bad decisions, your response to him is predictable. Despite every synapse in your heart screaming at you to say something else.

“Uh. I don’t think I’m going to the happy hour. I’m not really feeling great,” The lie blooms from your painted lips easily. His face falls and you pretend like your heart doesn’t ache over his doe eyes.

“Oh, okay. Feel better,” Jungkook says and you give him a barely there smile, passing him to head back in the conference room.

A headache is beginning to brew in the back of your head. It’s the last thing you need.

Why does it bother you that Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you first, rather than the other way around? After all, you were the one who caused a scene. What reason does he have to want to talk to you? If anything, you’re the one who needs to apologize, right?

You stare at the shifting trees in front of you, hoping that if you stare hard enough, the leaves will whisper an answer to you.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe he just is that good, to want to speak to you just because.

You’ve been sitting here, at Appa’s park, for the better part of an hour. You’re hoping for an epiphany, or some type of sign. It feels strange that Jungkook is weighing so heavily on your mind. You’re not used to this feeling.

A whistle of wind rustles through the collar of your thin jacket, curling around you in comfort. With a loud exhale, you stand up from your bench.

“Oh, fine. I’ll go to the stupid happy hour,” You scoff into the sky. As if the sky can hear your complaining. And so you turn on your heel and leave the park, begrudgingly making your way to the happy hour venue.

Usually, showing up to work events like this alone was a breeze. It was easy for you to think about these things as just being something to check off in your list of things to do for the day. You stayed to say your hellos and made some small talk before leaving, all within an hour.

But today feels different. Your carefully put together nerves are beginning to fray at the seams. You take a deep breath before swinging the door open to enter the bar. Namjoon and Mark had rented out a corner of the bar for your teams to have your own space. High tables of appetizers and drinks surrounded the bustling voices of your teammates.

Your hands are inadvertently balled into tense fists. This place is littered with people and still, you feel so alone. You wish Jin was here. You wish Jin was here.

Jungkook sees the crown of your head the minute you walk into the bar, even with the dimmed lighting. He had been sulking before, barely interested in the conversation that he had forced himself into under the pretense of ‘networking’. Not that anyone would be able to tell- Jungkook has mastered the art of making it seem like he was present. He would never jeopardize an invaluable opportunity like this, and he’s never been one to allow others to surpass him in settings like this. He knows what the stakes are. But he’s become adept in the art of multitasking.

Your lips are pursed, eyes darting across each side of the room. It feels overwhelming, like too much. Maybe you shouldn’t have come…

You cross your arms and dig your nails into your cloth covered bicep nervously. Before you can calm the thudding of your heart in your ears, you turn your head and see Jungkook walking towards you with a smile.

You can’t help but smile back.

“Jungkook,” You exhale, “Hi.”

“You came,” Jungkook says, eyes crinkling at the sight of you. Has he always had those deep laugh lines around his eyes when he smiled? For a second, you’re breathless but you break his gaze, not wanting to let your eyes linger over the rest of him for too long. At the risk that you’ll be sucked into his warm, brown whirlpools.

“Yeah,” You say faintly. Jungkook can sense your nervousness- you can’t help your eyes darting around you at the number of people surrounding you.

“Wanna get a drink with me?” Jungkook asks, gesturing towards the bar with a flick of his fingers.

“Really? You wanna get a drink with me?” You ask incredulously, with a raise of your eyebrow. How could he possibly want to spend time with you, when you had treated him the way you had?

“It’s on Namjoon and Mark’s company card,” Jungkook shrugs and you laugh. He leads you towards the bar. There are a few people seated at the navy blue leather bar stools surrounding the bar, a few of them eyeing Jungkook curiously. It doesn’t surprise you- he looks good in a form fitting black turtleneck and black slacks. Rings adorn his fingers and small hoops sit in his earlobes, a soft smile peeling across his face when he looks at you.

Yeah. You’d stare at him, too. If you didn’t have the fortune to know him.

“What can I get you?” Jungkook asks, relaxing with his elbow on the bar top.

“You mean what can Namjoon and Mark get us?” You say, pulling a laugh from him. Your heart sings at the sweet sound. “Hmm… I’ll have wine, I guess.”

“Red or white?”

“White?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Jungkook teases and your cheeks heat up.

“Telling you! I’ll have a… chardonnay,” You reply, turning your head towards the bar so he can’t see how flustered you are. But he does, and he pockets the information for later.

Once Jungkook orders two glasses of chardonnay for both of you and you’re both holding the wine glasses in your hands, you gently clink your glass with him. It makes you a little nervous, how easily you find yourself talking to him. How comfortable you feel around him, as if you were old friends. As if you hadn’t been so mean to him only the night before.

You don’t know him well. But you remember that he’s always had a big heart, offering his forgiveness to those who didn’t deserve it. Would you ruin him? But maybe a little selfishly, you want to chase this feeling.

“I went to this park earlier,” You murmur, swirling your wine in your glass, “It’s really pretty and quiet. I used to go there all the time when I was younger.”

“You’ve been to Tokyo before?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid and spend summers here with Appa. Sometimes Grandma, too. Appa taught me Japanese from when I was really young, it’s probably why I’m even on this team…”

“That’s not true, you’re on this team because you’re really smart and good at what you do! And I know Namjoon values your opinion a lot-” Jungkook protests, an annoyed furrow in his brow. Is that really what you think of yourself?

You laugh and give him a grateful smile. With a breath of seemingly transient courage, you part your lips- “Jungkook,” Your voice is soft and small and nothing like what he’s used to, “I want to-”

And then you’re both interrupted by both Sana and Namjoon slinging their arms around your shoulders. Jungkook gives you a reassuring smile, a promise that you’ll talk later. You wonder if you’ll lose your courage by then.

Namjoon pulls you away from Jungkook and Sana, introducing you to some people that you’ve never met. You recognize them as higher ups, Hyo-Jin, the head of submissions for all of Asia and Hae-ri, the head of business development. The realization makes you take a few generous sips of your wine and straighten your back.

You can hear Jin’s voice in your head, telling you to make a good impression. Namjoon easily pulls you into the conversation, giving you plenty of opportunity to insert yourself in-

“She’s my right hand woman, though I don’t think even that is a good enough term to tell you what she is to me,” Namjoon says. Compliments like that always fluster you, and this time is no different.

“Namjoon speaks too highly of me,” You brush him off, “I’m just glad I have this opportunity, I mean being on the submissions team has always been one of my favorite parts of the job.”

“Oh? Do you see a future for yourself in submissions?” Hyo-Jin asks curiously, with a quirk of an elegant eyebrow. She’s a no nonsense woman, you can tell just from the five minutes you’ve had with her.

“I definitely want to lead submissions teams one day. I mean, Namjoon is a great teacher,” You grin, elbowing him, “But even more than that… I’d like to oversee an entire product line end to end later down the line. And I think it’s important to invest in our young talent, too-”

“Young talent? As in people development?” Hyo-Jin asks.

“Yeah, I mean they’re our future leaders, aren’t they? It’s important that they have the tools to succeed now and beyond,” You say vehemently.

Hyo-Jin says nothing, only nodding and taking a sip of her drink. “And you? Do you have the tools to succeed now and beyond as a future leader?”

The question makes you stumble. Do you throw your boss under the bus? But you’ve never been a liar, and you sure as hell won’t start now.

“No,” You say bluntly, “I’ve learned so much with Namjoon and being part of this team. And in general being part of regulatory and submissions projects. But I don’t think my skill set is being effectively used in my current role. If you want an honest answer.”

You can practically hear Jin scolding you from far away. But you won’t build a professional relationship on a fallacy. To your surprise, Hyo-Jin smiles.

“That’s refreshing,” She says, her painted lips splitting into a smile.

“What is?” You ask, feeling rather stupid.

“Your honesty,” Hae-ri chimes in, “People aren’t always honest with us, because of our titles. Like they have something to prove.”

“Yeah, well, maybe people are rightfully more concerned about making a good first impression than I am,” You joke, gripping the handle of your wine glass tighter. Hyo-Jin and Hae-ri both laugh with you, telling you to put time on their calendars to meet with them virtually when you go back to South Korea after the trip. With that, they both slip away from you, making sure you know that they appreciated your presence. And then you let out a breath.

“Holy shit. I fucked that up,” You mutter, “My boss is going to kill me, Joon. What the hell is wrong with me-”

“Relax,” Namjoon says easily, his dimples on display, “They loved you. Trust me, they loved you. They already knew who you were, you know.”

“What? How could they possibly know who I was?” You gasp incredulously, “I’m a nobody!”

“Seokjin’s right. For someone so smart, you’re dumb-”

“Hey! That’s unprofessional of you,” You say, but a smile threatens your lips.

“They never tell anyone to put time on their calendars unless they like them. So just trust me. And this submission has the eyes of all of the higher ups. Our good work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I just,” You sigh, “I’m used to it going unnoticed. So I guess… Thank you. For your leadership, your guidance… and your friendship.”

He smiles at you brightly and clinks his glass with you. “C’mon, let’s go find Mark.”

Jungkook can’t help but cast his eyes in your direction every so often. He knew, he knew you were about to say something poignant at the bar. All of the signs were there- your serious eyes, the way you forced yourself to look him in the face, the barely there nervousness that he could taste.

It seems that everyone suddenly wants a piece of you- you flit around with Namjoon, taking it all in as he introduces you to people. Jungkook is beyond happy for you, that you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve from the company.

But still, he can’t help but crave just a minute alone with you. Especially when he sees Mark’s face light up at the sight of you, pulling you into a too-friendly hug. And you don’t even realize it, it seems. Only offering him a smile in return, surprise coloring your face when he hugs you so tightly.

Jungkook tries his best to stay present in the conversation he’s in, with Sana and a few other members of the Tokyo team. But he has such a nice view of you that he can’t help his eyes drifting every so often. He can’t help noticing the way your pink pants sit on your hips, and the way your black blouse is tucked into them. More than that though, he can’t help noticing Mark noticing.

Do you know? That Mark sees you in that light? He’s so obvious about it, and yet. It seems like you’re oblivious.

Namjoon eventually excuses himself from both of you, claiming that he can hear Sana calling for him. You think nothing of it, shrugging and continuing your conversation with Mark.

“Hey, you did great today,” Mark compliments, stepping just a hair closer to you.

“Oh! Thanks, I know,” You wink at him, “I have a great team, I mean it.”

“Well,” Mark says, taking a sip of his soju, “You’re pretty great, too.”

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with a roll of your eyes, “You don’t need to butter me up, Mark. Save it.”

“C’mon, you know I mean it. We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” Mark says with a crooked sort of grin. You understand why people fawn over him, that smile could get anyone to do anything but you roll your eyes.

“Have we, Mark?” You ask dryly.

“We go way back,” He says self-assuredly, almost cockily.

“No, we don’t,” You mumble under your breath, and he hears you. You subtly take a step back from him, turning on your side. Only to find Jungkook already looking at you.

“You wound me,” Mark murmurs, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. You roll your eyes, but still give him the same grin. It’s polite, nothing more, nothing less.

The way Mark looks at you teeters on the edge of something more than friendly professionalism. It’s clear that you both have known each other for a while. Maybe through work? Maybe something else? It bothers Jungkook, and he knows it shouldn’t. Especially when Mark leaves you for a minute, only to return with a refill of your wine.

An irritating ember settles in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. Perhaps he has an ulcer, he thinks dryly.

Mark has your phone number, from other projects you’ve worked with him on. He does text you every so often, maybe once every few months. You’ve never thought much of it, only responding to him out of obligation since he is your colleague and technically your superior. You don’t think it’s malicious- he’s always been a charmer. Even when you first met him when you first started at the company.

By the time you manage to shake yourself of Mark, Jungkook has disappeared. How long has it been since you’ve been here? You look outside of the windows quickly, taking in the darkness of the sky and the moon hanging from it.

“Hey, you ready to head back to the hotel?” Namjoon asks, Sana already in her coat next to him.

“Yeah, where’s Jungkook?” You ask, craning your neck to see the top of his fluffy hair.

“He left a bit ago. Said he wasn’t feeling well,” Sana says, fastening the buttons on her coat. The bitter pill of regret settles in your belly. How ironic that he had left happy hour saying he wasn’t feeling well, when that had been your excuse to not attend.

So still, even when you are in your hotel room after the happy hour, changed in your pajamas and about to watch a show to end your night, you think nothing of it when Mark texts you later that night:

Mark: it was good to see you tn :)

Despite Mark’s name lighting up your phone, you feel an ache in your heart. Over the fact that you hadn’t had the chance to speak to Jungkook. He’s somewhere in this hotel, and you could, you really could just ask Namjoon his room number and talk to him. But the bolt of courage from earlier seems to have fizzled out long ago.

So you text Mark back instead. Thinking nothing of it.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fluff

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

Breathing Our Last Breath-- Vampire!Luke Part 2

A/N: thank you thank you thank you! For all your love and support on my vampire series!🥰 it means everything to me. The title and overall theme correlates PERFECTLY with BMTH’s song ‘One Day the only butterflies left will be in your chest as you march towards your death.’ When I first heard the song I couldn’t believe how well it fit in with the way I wanted this story to go. And once again...I apologize but the angst will be worth it trust me. Love you please don’t hate me @irwinkitten

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: blood drinking, slight manic episode of the vampiric kind

To catch up:

Giving You My Soul (Part 1)

A bite (blurb)

Fangs (blurb)

Masterlist

• • • •

Him

Luke sought out the help of Michael the next morning after he and Y/N connected last night. It was after he showed her his fangs that while she was sighing his name he almost told her. He almost told her he loved her, but he couldn’t make himself do so. Cheeks flushed, hair splayed across his pillow with his bite marks staring up at him on her left breast, the words were caught between his teeth.

Saying those three words would complicate things more. Change her or keep her human? He stayed up all night wrestling with his thoughts while she slept soundly next to him. When she’d make a noise of contempt, he’d reach over and stroke her face until she relaxed, falling back into a pleasant dream.

He wrote her a note telling her of his whereabouts, gave a quick kiss to her forehead then ran to Michael’s place. He gave a swift knock to the door before bustling in only to find Michael and Kitty cuddled together against the counter.

Kitty’s legs were wrapped around Michael’s waist, their hands in his hair while Michael nuzzles against their neck. Kitty chuckles then opens their eyes when the front door snaps shut. They tap on Michael’s shoulder then says Luke’s name.

“Don’t you knock?” Michael asks turning around. His tone is accusatory, but his face is teasing, his eyes seem a brighter green than normal.

“I did, then just walked right in. Sorry to interrupt,” Luke grins. “Good morning, Kitty.”

“Morning, Luke,” Kitty laughs letting their legs fall against the cupboards. “Is Y/N with you? I can make us some breakfast.”

“No, she’s back at my place still asleep. I came to discuss something with you, Mike.”

Michael notices the change in Luke’s voice, he swallows thickly then turns to Kitty.

“How about you go take a shower and I’ll have breakfast ready for you, hm?”

“All right,” Kitty sighs slipping onto the floor. They peck Michael’s lips. “I want French toast. See you later, Luke. Tell Y/N I say hello.”

“I will,” Luke smiles at them. When he hears the bathroom door close he joins Michael at the counter who’s grabbing the breakfast essentials.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you going to change Kitty?” Luke blurts out. He tried coming up with an easy way to bring up the topic but couldn’t come up with something.

“I haven’t really thought about it or discussed it with them, why? Are you thinking of changing Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs quietly and leans against the counter.

“What brought this on?” Michael grabs the loaf of bread then moves to the fridge for eggs and milk.

“I feasted on her a couple weeks ago and now…I can’t exist without her, Mike.”

Michael sighs. “And since then you don’t want to change her but also don’t want her to die as a human…Have you talked with her?”

“No. It’s not really a conversation I want to have.”

“No one wants to have that kind of conversation,” Michael chortles cracking two eggs in a bowl. He adds a splash of milk then stirs the contents until it turns a pale yellow. He flicks on the stovetop then continues to stir. “She cares about you, too. Don’t make a choice that’s hers to make in the first place.”

“I feel selfish, asking her to make a choice between human or Vampirism and for what? Me?”

“Luke, she loves you. I know you’ve never really been in a solid relationship, but communication is key. Tell her what you’re thinking. Is this why you’ve been acting strange the last few weeks?”

“I’ve been acting strange? How?” Luke crosses his arms and becomes intent on watching Michael dip the piece of bread in the yolk and milk creation. Y/N likes her French toast with strawberries, cream, and syrup.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Michael warns lowly, “but Y/N was telling Kitty you two haven’t really been…intimate in a while. Since you feasted now I know why. We haven’t known each other for very long but I can tell you’re pulling away, pushing the thing that scares you out of sight. But while you do that, you’re pushing her away as well.”

Luke is stunned into silence. Has he really not touched Y/N since the night he bit her? He goes through his memory quickly of the last several weeks then sees what Michael is talking about. No wonder Y/N was shocked at his sudden need of affection last night. The whole encounter felt different, something has shifted between them and he’s the cause of it.

“How can I do that without realizing it?”

“You’ve been alone for thousands of years,” Michael shrugs plopping the bread in the pan. It sizzles from the heat. “Kind of funny how I’m giving you words of wisdom, eh?”

Luke rolls his eyes but silently agrees. Michael has given him much to think about and all too quickly that becomes very dangerous. He weighs all three of his options; change her so they can be together forever, keep her human, and the third is discussing the first two options with her. The last one scares the hell out of him. He never wants to put her in danger or a place of discord.

For all of his life—human and immortal—he’s never had to worry about someone else. Hell, what he thought was courting her with the gifts he left was actually a little offensive. Then to ask her to give up her life to spend it with him? Does she love him, too?

His thoughts take over every part of him when he returns home to find her in one of his silk shirts—the teal one that contrasts nicely with her skin—making her own breakfast. His mind is elsewhere but he plays the actions well of kissing her temple and having small chat.

Luke hides his thoughts and emotions extremely well around Y/N for the next week. He acts normal. Kisses her, tangles his fingers in her hair and watches over her at the Bar in case Brone tried to approach. On the outside, he played his part well but on the inside he was in turmoil.

He’s been a wanderer, never staying in one place long, never getting attached to someone—human and Vampire alike. This is the longest he’s stayed in one place since Italy and he’s made a friend in Michael and found a deep love with Y/N.

He’s read of love, he even played Romeo at one point in his life. Songs are rooted from love, paintings, movies, poems. He’s observed it in many forms but has never experienced it. This is all new territory for him, waters he’s never swam in before.

Now, he’s faced with the choice to love her for the rest of her days or make her like him. Sure, he lives an extraordinary life, rubbing elbows with royals and celebrities, experiencing history firsthand. He’s seen the world change many times over while he remains the same. Frozen.

Another week goes by filled with questions and more questions. While Y/N sleeps in his bed, her hand is tucked under chin and his shirt hangs off her body, he walks. He walks through the house, examines his belongings, tickles the ivories on his piano as he passes by then he walks his grounds.

He can hear Y/N wherever he goes, the steady lull of her heart and if she wakes he’ll be by her side in a moment. She’s in no danger.

As he walks, he thinks. He imagines the life they would have had back in his time. They’d have a large estate with beautiful furniture and paintings while her closet would be filled with flowing gowns. There’d be plenty of children running the grounds. A happy life, a promised life.

His head snaps to the house when Y/N rolls out of bed and stumbles tiredly into the bathroom across the way. He races back inside taking his place back in bed just as she emerges from the bathroom.

“Where were you?” she asks thickly and falls next to him.

“I got you some water,” he says holding up a glass. He got it on his way.

She rubs her eyes then takes a few gulps before curling up next to him. She fits perfectly against him, her body molding to his shape like the perfect puzzle. Luke stays awake, asking himself a million questions but never finding one answer.

Luke starts to spiral as more days go by. He decides to fast on his feedings as if doing so would clear his head. His assumption would soon be wrong.

He distances himself even more from Y/N by dropping her off at her place instead of his after her shifts at the Bar. He uses the excuse that he’s remodeling and doesn’t want to risk her getting hurt or inhaling too much paint.

That’s the first lie.

While he continues to deny his thirst, he starts to go mad, spiraling down a dark place he’s never been before. He’s going to a place which started the mask mandate in the first place. Vampires wanted to exist in society but when they denied their drinking they became lustful and more dangerous for a bite. The savage ones used the form of fasting as their own kind of drug, it made them see things, feel things they haven’t before.

While he looks at his memorabilia he’s transported back in time with whatever object he’s looking at. His eyes are darkened which darkens the world around him as he’s reacquainted with his old friends. He has gallant parties with them in his trinket room, his manic laughter echoing throughout the house. To a bystander or peeping Tom, they would see he’s completely alone while ghosts of his past keep him false company.

He ignores Michael and Kitty’s calls then slips further and further from Y/N. He makes more excuses. The second lie is when he tells her he needs a break. Something has come up in Italy. An old acquaintance needs help. Y/N asks what exactly the break means, and Luke laughs at the simple question that has an even simpler answer.

“A break of us. I need space, Y/N, my feelings have changed.”

That was the second lie.

The third lie is that he’s close to his answer, but he needs a little more time. A little more time of not consuming blood and everything will fall into place. He’s not sure how many days have gone by when he reaches this realization. The lack of sleep and blood alters time. (It’s really been a whole month).

Luke wakes from a dream, was it really a dream? Y/N was there, and they were laying in the white sands of Cala Luna beach in Italy. He’s not sure what woke him up, but she was on his mind. Not that she hasn’t been for the last however many days. When was the last time he saw her?

He thinks of calling her but then quickly changes his mind. He ended it so he wouldn’t have to force her to make a decision between her life and him. He’s even more of a danger to her now because he’s been without blood for so long and the way she smells to him? His actions could be catastrophic but that dream…he wants to take her to Cala Luna, kiss her in the sand.

He’s made up his choice.

He searches for his phone, checks the date and time and it’s her day off from the bar so he could go and get a blood bag, replenish himself and go see her. He’s ready to open up to her, wrap her in his arms again and kiss her chest with butterfly kisses.

“The Bar,” he mutters then laughs joyously at his brilliant idea.

He decides to run there and in his crazed mind he somehow remembers to put on his mask, although it’s haphazardly placed. Plus, he’s faster than his car anyway so the faster he gets to the bar the faster he can go to Y/N.

The scents of A positive and O negative tickles his nose and burns his throat. He’s so damn thirsty. His mouth waters as he rushes to the bar and orders two bags. He finishes them in seconds, not even using the glass supplied. He feels the blood drip down his chin and Trixie eyes him cautiously as he asks for two more bags.

Halfway through his fourth, a warm body presses into his back. With the lack of blood for so many days, or weeks, drinking it now and in such a rush has him buzzed. His eyesight isn’t completely back yet, it’s as if he has dark spots clouding his vision. How he’s feeling is the equivalence of drinking alcohol and getting drunk.

Luke turns around quickly; his normally pristine vision distorts the figure in front of him. A warm hand touches his cheek, their blood is sweet with a hint of flowers. In his distorted state, his body is on a fine line of going back to normal and lingering on his blood deprived state, he knows it’s not Y/N.

“Hey, it’s all right. I know who you’re looking for,” Celeste says, but his mind alters it into a singing tone.

“Y/N?” he mumbles. Was she really here?

Celeste’s blood entices him. The blood bags are fine and all but drinking directly from a warm body is better. Being out of human contact for so long, her blood allures him tenfold.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs fixing one of the beds,” Simone sings next to him now.

“She is?” he shifts in his chair then nearly stumbles out of it at the thought of seeing Y/N. Then he’s filled with embarrassment. He can’t let her see him like this.

“We’ll clean you up,” Celeste hoists him against her body. His mind reels at the scent of her blood.

“Yeah, come on, sweetie.”

Their voices sing to him as they lead him towards the stairs. The promise of seeing Y/N allows Celeste and Simone’s help. He doesn’t quite remember the stairs being this long, his body feels heavy and he can feel the blood slosh around. Will she be disgusted seeing it on his lips?

A door opens then he’s rushed inside, his legs knocking into each other as he’s pushed against the back of a couch. He starts to giggle. Was Y/N down the hall and Celeste and Simone shove him in the nearest room to save himself from having her see him this way?

“What’s so funny?” Celeste asks brushing away a curl.

“Hiding while I’m seeking,” he giggles. The girls join in his laughter then is jacket is pulled off.

“You know what will help when you see her?”

“We heard all that happened between you two,” Celeste rubs his cheek.

“Yes, we’ve grown quite close the three of us,” Simone sighs.

“What will help? I’ll do anything,” his words slur together. He keeps blinking his eyes trying to get rid of the dark splotches.

“Feed on us, Luke,” Celeste whispers in his ear. “We can tell you’ve been fasting. Your pretty blue eyes are so dark.”

“Yeah, and you don’t want Y/N to see you like this, right?”

“No! No, no, no, no,” he shakes his head, eyes closing. “She can’t see me. I can’t hurt her.”

“Shh, shh,” Celeste hushes while Simone touches his hand. “We’ll help you…”

“Yeah, we’ve got you sweetie…”

Simone reaches for the button of his shirt while Celeste offers him her neck. In his delirium he’s back at the beach in his dream with Y/N and she’s the one offering her neck. Her blood is so sweet, and he loves her so much, he gives in to “Y/N”’s actions.

“Go on, take a bite.”

HER

Y/N received a note from Michael and Kitty to meet them upstairs at the Bar. She’s very thankful for them because after the whirlwind of confusion with Luke they really helped her out. They kept her occupied and her mind off things while also providing comfort that Luke will come around.

When she walks inside she looks to the Bar in search of Trixie, she gives her a wave, but Trixie is busy with the slew of customers. Y/N climbs the stairs then sees the room the note indicated. Y/N opens the door and is horrified by what she sees. Her stomach plummets, her mouth opens in a silent scream and her heart shatters in a million pieces.

Luke’s shirt is wide open, his mouth latched onto Celeste’s neck while Simone is on her knees in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N…” he mumbles.

Tears sting her eyes. She’s gasping for breath while trying to speak his name. She hasn’t seen him in weeks, all this time she was hopeful he’d come back. That he would tell her what he was going through, and they could work it out together whatever it was ailing him. How could she be so naïve?

“Oh, look. We have a guest,” Celeste moans. She smiles deviously at Y/N who wipes furiously at her eyes trying to dry her tears.

“Y/N! What—” Michael’s voice appears and that pulls Luke from his stupor.

Luke shoves Celeste away, blood dripping down his chin. He gasps when he spots Y/N, falling apart in front of him. For a fraction of the smallest second, their eyes meet. He tries to say her name while tossing Simone off of him, attempting to fix his shirt and pants. Then she’s gone, running from the room and away from Luke.

“What the hell are you doing, Luke?” she hears Michael shout.

“Y/N?!”

Was that Kitty she passed? Y/N doesn’t know and keeps running, nearly stumbling down the stairs. As she runs Luke tries to get away from the two sirens who used his weakness against him. Y/N’s face sobered him, cleared his vision.

“Get the fuck out,” Michael hisses at the women. They scamper away with Luke trying to follow but Michael blocks his path. “Talk.”

Back downstairs, Y/N’s legs are shaking, her whole body is in tremors. Her heart is breaking and so is the rest of her. Trixie spots her just as Kitty catches up.

“What--?” Trixie’s eyes are wide at the sight of Y/N.

“Luke was upstairs with Celeste and Simone,” Kitty spits in anger. “Y/N, come here.”

Kitty pulls her against their chest, Y/N collapses all too easily with tears falling relentlessly from her eyes.

“Here, have her sit down. Try to catch your breath, babe,” Trixie consoles then runs for a water.

Kitty shuffles over to a chair but Y/N is resisting. She can’t be here. Not with Luke just upstairs and Celeste and Simone.

“No. T-take me h-home…I don’t wa-want to s-see him,” Y/N chokes out. Kitty glances towards the stairs but doesn’t see Luke or Michael. They nod to Y/N.

“Okay, I’ll take you home.”

“What happened?” Trixie asks on her return with a bottle of water.

As if on cue, Luke has flashed in front of them quicker than the speed of light. Kitty places their arms around Y/N protectively, guarding her from Luke and glares at him. Michael appears as well, his hand moving to Luke’s chest that is spotted in blood and still unbuttoned.

“Ask Luke,” Kitty sneers then leads Y/N out the door.

Kitty tries to console Y/N the best they can at her apartment but she’s sobbing so hard it’s hard to breathe. She gasps for breath so much that she dry heaves. Kitty holds Y/N’s face in their hands and recites a breathing technique to her. Her breathing finally picks up but her tears continue.

After a couple of hours, Y/N finally falls asleep, but it isn’t for very long. She wakes up, remembers what happened and her heart breaks all over again. She’s stuck between rose colored dreams of Luke and the dark nightmare that is her reality. She’s not quite sure which is worse to endure.

Days go by and she hasn’t left her bed. She’s cried herself dry and is left with her skin tight and dry. Her eyes are puffy. She’s so sleepy but she fights it off not wanting to dream of Luke. While she’s awake she wonders what she’s doing then hates herself for wanting to be with him after what she saw.

Kitty forces her to drink some water but refuses to eat. She simply has no appetite. Like her heart it’s disappeared.

On the seventh day, Michael arrives with a bag of goodies for her. While he was with Luke, Kitty and Michael were in constant communication trying to figure out exactly what had happened. When Michael discovered Luke had fasted he became so angry he shoved Luke so hard he flew out the window. Luke didn’t put up a fight, he knows he deserves way worse.

Luke begged and begged for Michael to bring him to Y/N but Michael refused, he’s done enough damage. When Luke overheard Michael discussing Y/N with Kitty and how they couldn’t get her to eat Luke jumped to her aid. He told Michael that taking a shower helps center herself and she needs a lot of blankets. Her comfort food is a warm cooked meal of chicken and mashed potatoes with brownies for dessert.

Michael stared at him in shock but heeded his advice then made his way to Y/N’s. He sits next to her on her bed, removes his mask then gives her an apologetic smile.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t say anything and continues to look out the window. He reveals the goodies in his bag, says he’ll cook her favorite food and that Kitty will help her take a hot shower.

“I want a bath,” she mutters.

“I’ll make sure it’s nice and warm,” Kitty promises then helps her from her bed.

The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.

Her days roll endlessly together that she loses track of time. Her appetite comes back but it’s slim pickings. Her face doesn’t feel so stiff from her tears, but she still isn’t sleeping that well. Usually when she’d have a nightmare, Luke would hold her and murmur in her ear sweet things. Sometimes it would be in Italian and his words would turn into a song lulling her back to sleep.

She hasn’t returned to work, refuses to because she doesn’t want to come in contact with Luke. If she saw Celeste and Simone she knew she would claw their eyes out. Trixie is more than understanding and has banned Celeste and Simone from ever returning. Trixie made sure Y/N knew her job would be there for her when she returns and would still get paid.

She overheard Michael and Kitty saying that Luke hasn’t left the bar since that night. She wonders if he still has the blood on his face or did he clean it off? Surely Trixie wouldn’t let him sit there looking like that. She hates how she’s worried for him.

The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.

Y/N wakes to hear Michael and Kitty talking loudly and in exasperated voices. She steps into the living room where they’re seated, Michael has his phone in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asks, their heads snap in her direction.

“It’s Luke. He’s been hurt.”

THEM

He hates himself. He let his fear take control which left him powerless. He’s sitting at the bar like he has been for the past five weeks, never leaving this spot in case Y/N walks in. He overheard Trixie on the phone with Michael that she takes as long as she needs to return.

He has half a mind to try her at her apartment but a nasty text from Kitty made him stay away. Michael would visit him frequently, drinks a blood bag with him. Michael hated seeing Luke this way, his skin is an unhealthy pallor, his eyes darkened with purple and black circles underneath.

His heart hasn’t beat in centuries, yet he takes on the appearance of what a broken heart looks like. When Luke asks about Y/N his voice is papery thin. He sounds as old as he is, thousands of years old. Fading, decrepit, frail.

Brone stalks up behind him, pushing Luke against the counter. Luke takes it but turns around slowly.

“You look like hell,” Brone laughs. “You’re really this torn up over that flower? Was she really that good in bed?”

“What do you want, Brone?” Luke croaks.

“Let’s have a little chat outside…”

Brone’s teeth sever into Luke’s flesh, his back, his shoulder, his arms. The venom doesn’t harm him, but it fills him with enough pain that he feels himself losing feeling in his body. In between bites, Brone screams at Luke to fight back. He’s waited all this time to get revenge on him for stealing away the love of Brone.

“What are you talking about?” Luke coughs out.

“Remember Lenore?”

Luke vaguely remembers the strawberry-blond woman. It was back in the early 1940’s, she was a candy striper. Luke befriended her one morning on his routine walk when her hat flew off her head. He caught it and they bonded over a new song from Glen Miller and his band.

The closer they got the more she confided in him and that’s when Brone was brought up. Luke has crossed paths with him too many times to know what Lenore was about to tell him.

“She never shared the same feelings for you,” Luke groans. He slumps to the ground against the wall, his body is starting to lock up from the venom.

“Yeah well, now I’m going to take yours from you.”

“No,” Luke hisses through his teeth. He tries to move but to no avail, the venom is quick, and he’s frozen as stone against the wall.

Brone crouches in front of him, smirking. “Oh, yes. I’ll get to see what’s so special about her to you, then I’ll feast on her. Might change her, might drink her dry. I haven’t decided yet. Catch you around, Luke.”

Luke fills with white hot anger, but he’s immobilized. He feels his eyes become heavy, the venom overtakes him, and his world goes dark.

“LUKE!”

Her voice. He hears her voice and tries to reach her but he’s floating somewhere. Somewhere that’s dark and still. Luke tries to resurface, reaching for the sound of her heart. She’s sobbing his name so close in his ear. Is she touching him? He can’t feel it. He wants to tell her to run, to get to safety.

“LU—”

He hears a commotion. Brone’s voice and Y/N’s then a scream and a thump. Michael’s voice. Trixie’s voice. Y/N’s heart jumps erratically, her breath gasping. Luke tries to scream her name. He tries to claw his way from the darkness.

The voices blend together, he’s trying to follow along with the words, but he can’t grasp on anything quite yet. Is Y/N all right? What’s happened? Where’s Brone?

Michael’s voice warps in and out of his mind while he’s screaming on the inside.

It starts in his fingertips and toes. He’s gaining sensation back in his body and when he can twitch his fingers he feels Y/N’s hand next to his. Her heart is still beating but it’s staggered. Where were they? Luke smells the area and they’re in his home on his bed. His bed that still smells of her sweet floral scent.

Michael and Kitty’s voices carry from downstairs, but Luke doesn’t decipher what they’re saying. His hearing is still deep underwater in the lake of the venom. His fingers twitch some more then he brushes her skin. That excites him. He keeps twitching his fingers until he hooks them with hers, he grasps her tightly, so she’ll know he’s there.

Did Brone bite her? Is she changing? Did he just drink a lot of her blood that it’s taking her so long to recover? He wants answers but if Michael brought them to his home then she has to be all right. Right?

More time passes and his ability to move travels up his legs and arms. His eyes and mouth are still clamped shut, that’s the last place the venom reached him, so it’ll also be the last place he recovers. He flexes his finger and toes, bones cracking from being still for so long. At least he can get a firmer hold on Y/N’s hand, now he rubs his thumb over her skin.

Slowly but surely, he feels the weight on his chest disappear. His neck feels lighter and he can turn it from side to side. Not long now and he can open his eyes, he can look at Y/N and assess what’s happened. He can apologize. He can tell her he loves her. He can tell her that fasting was a terrible idea and that he was scared. He can tell her he’ll do anything to gain her forgiveness back.

He counts the time with his clock from his trinket room. It’s been two hours and his jaw goes slack. He opens his mouth and can taste Y/N’s scent in the air.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters wanting his eyes to open now. Open, open, open, open!

Two minutes and his eyes flash open, he has gained full mobility back and he crouches next to Y/N. Her eyes are closed, there’s bite marks on her arms but he doesn’t smell the venom. So why hasn’t she woken up?

“Michael!”

Michael appears.

“Finally. I was about to lose my mind. How are you--?”

“What happened?” Luke interrupts pressing his hand to Y/N’s forehead. She’s not her normal temperature.

“I’m not too sure. When I came, she was on the ground next to you bleeding. I tried to get Brone and kill him, but Trixie got him with her cross bow in his shoulder and he ran off. I would’ve gone after him, but you were frozen and Y/N…I don’t know what’s wrong. I think he fed off her, but I don’t know why she isn’t waking up,” Michael explains in a rush.

“Y/N, lovie…” Luke murmurs caressing her cheek. He kisses her hand that’s still in his, her skin cold. Her heart starts to flutter.

“…uke…” she barely utters.

“I’m right here, love, what can I do to help?” he begs cradling her face.

“Butterflies…” she exhales, and he’s confused. What about butterflies?

“Hm? Should I get you some chocolate?”

Her eyebrows pull together, a weak movement, but he notices it.

“Do you feel butterflies?” he asks gently, her thumb jerks against his hand. That must be yes. “Where are they? They’re not hurting you, are they?”

“No…take me…away…”

“They’re taking you away? Where are they taking you?”

“F…from you…”

“You have to bite her,” Michael says. Luke had forgotten he was in the room.

“What?”

“If butterflies are taking her away then I think that means she’s…she’s dying. You have to change her Luke. Now.”

Luke looks at her frantically. Her heart has staggered more but she appears fine so how--?

“Luke!”

He hovers over her, rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for being distant and not talking to you. I pushed you away to try and protect you and now look at you. I’m so sorry for hurting you and for Celeste and Simone…they used my befuddled mind and lack of feasting against me. You’re the only one I want, the only one I desire, the only one I love. I can change you, make you like me but only if it’s your wish, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry lovie,” he confesses in one breath.

She squeezes his hand the best she can.

“Change…please…I can’t…leave…you…” her voice barely registers a normal octave.

“Are you sure?” he whispers nudging his nose against hers.

“I love you.”

It was her most coherent sentence. Luke kisses her forehead then moves to her chest. He pulls her shirt away so he can see his bite marks from months ago when he first bit her. He kisses the spot, lips soft as the butterflies, extracts his fangs and sinks his teeth into her flesh. She lets out a shaky breath as his venom spreads through her.

When he’s expelled enough, he licks his tongue over the puncture then drags his lips towards hers. His Sleeping Beauty will sleep now while her body changes, he gave her the kiss of death that will bring her to a new life.

“Don’t go…hold me….”

Tears leak from her eyes as the venom spreads, Luke kisses them away.

“I won’t leave you. You’re going to hurt, but I’ll keep you wrapped in my arms.”

He adjusts himself so he can hold her against him, her heart leaping and jumping at different speeds. Michael mumbles something about being downstairs to tell Kitty. Luke kisses her hair, breathes her in before the pain will take over.

Thankfully, the process isn’t long. It takes about twelve hours for the body to fully change into a Vampire. He stays with her while her breathing quickens then turns shallow. He keeps holding her when she thrashes against him, begging him to take the pain away. He holds her while she screams, telling her how much he loves her.

Her screams continue after the second hour. Her body goes slack, but her voice rings out from the searing pain. Her heart rate keeps increasing.

The sun sets, the moon rises.

When the clock chimes midnight, her screams go silent and her heart comes to a full stop. Luke’s gaze hasn’t left her face and he watches, and he waits. He touches her cheek with his fingers, she flinches then relaxes when she smells him.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs. She turns towards his voice; his arms relax around her, but he doesn’t pull away.

Then, like a butterfly appearing from their cocoon, she opens her eyes to a new life.

• • • •

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jenniferisacommonname · 3 years

Text

Bonus Level Unlocked

This week marks the release of Jason Schreier’s Press Reset, an incredibly well-researched book on catastrophic business failure in the gaming industry. Jason’s a good dude, and there’s an excerpt here if you want to check it out. Sadly, game companies going belly-up is such a common occurrence that he couldn’t possibly include them all, and one of the stories left out due to space constraints is one that I happen to be personally familiar with. So, I figured I’d tell it here.

I began working at Acclaim Studios Austin as a sound designer in January of 2000. It was a tumultuous period for the company, including a recent rebranding from their former studio name, “Iguana Entertainment,” and a related, ongoing lawsuit from the ex-founder of Iguana. There were a fair number of ghosts hanging around—the creative director’s license plate read IGUANA, which he never changed, and one of the meeting rooms held a large, empty terrarium—but the studio had actually been owned on paper by Acclaim since 1995, and I didn’t notice any conflicting loyalties. Everyone acted as if we always had been, and always would be, Acclaim employees.

Over the next few years I worked on a respectable array of triple-A titles, including Quarterback Club 2002, Turok: Evolution, and All-Star Baseball 2002 through 2005. (Should it be “All-Stars Baseball,” like attorneys general? Or perhaps a term of venery, like “a zodiac of All-Star Baseball.”) At any rate, it was a fun place to work, and a platformer of hijinks ensued.

But let’s skip to the cutscene. The truth is that none of us in the trenches suspected the end was near until it was absolutely imminent. Yes, Turok: Evolution and Vexx had underperformed, especially when stacked against the cost of development, but games flop in the retail market all the time. And, yes, Showdown: Legends of Wrestling had been hustled out the door before it was ready for reasons no one would explain, and the New York studio’s release of a BMX game featuring unlockable live-action stripper footage had been an incredibly weird marketing ploy for what should have been a straightforward racing title. (Other desperate gimmicks around this time included a £6,000 prize for UK parents who would name their baby “Turok,” an offer to pay off speeding tickets to promote Burnout 2 that quickly proved illegal, and an attempt to buy advertising space on actual tombstones for a Shadow Man sequel.)

But the baseball franchise was an annual moneymaker, and our studio had teams well into development on two major new licenses, 100 Bullets and The Red Star. Enthusiasm was on the upswing. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention when voice actors started calling me to complain that they hadn’t been paid, but at the time it seemed more like a bureaucratic failure than an actual money shortage—and frankly, it was a little naïve of them to expect net-30 in the first place. Industry standard was, like, net-90 at best. So I was told.

Then one Friday afternoon, a few department managers got word that we’d kind of maybe been skipping out on the building lease for let’s-not-admit-how-many months. By Monday morning, everyone’s key cards had been deactivated.

It's a little odd to arrive at work and find a hundred-plus people milling around outside—even odder, I suppose, if your company is not the one being evicted. Acclaim folks mostly just rolled their eyes and debated whether to cut our losses and head to lunch now, while employees of other companies would look dumbfounded and fearful before being encouraged to push their way through the crowd and demonstrate their still-valid key card to the security guard. Finally, the General Manager (hired only a few months earlier, and with a hefty relocation bonus to accommodate his houseboat) announced that we should go home for the day and await news. Several of our coworkers were veterans of the layoff process—like I said, game companies go under a lot—and one of them had already created a Yahoo group to communicate with each other on the assumption that we’d lose access to our work email. A whisper of “get on the VPN and download while you can” rippled through the crowd.

But the real shift in tone came after someone asked about a quick trip inside for personal items, and the answer was a hard, universal “no.” We may have been too busy or ignorant to glance up at any wall-writing, but the building management had not been: they were anticipating a full bankruptcy of the entire company. In that situation, all creditors have equal standing to divide up a company's assets in lengthy court battles, and most get a fraction of what they’re owed. But if the landlords had seized our office contents in lieu of rent before the bankruptcy was declared, they reasoned, then a judge might rule that they had gotten to the treasure chest first, and could lay claim to everything inside as separate from the upcoming asset liquidation.

Ultimately, their gambit failed, but the ruling took a month to settle. In the meantime, knick knacks gathered dust, delivered packages piled up, food rotted on desks, and fish tanks became graveyards. Despite raucous protest from every angle—the office pets alone generated numerous threats of animal cruelty charges—only one employee managed to get in during this time, and only under police escort. He was a British citizen on a work visa, and his paperwork happened to be sitting on his desk, due to expire. Without it, he was facing literal deportation. Fortunately, a uniformed officer took his side (or perhaps just pre-responded to what was clearly a misdemeanor assault in ovo,) and after some tense discussion, the building manager relented, on the condition that the employee touch absolutely nothing beyond the paperwork in question. The forms could go, but the photos of his children would remain.

It’s also a little odd, by the way, to arrive at the unemployment office and find every plastic chair occupied by someone you know. Even odder, I suppose, if you’re actually a former employee of Acclaim Studios Salt Lake, which had shut down only a month or two earlier, and you just uprooted your wife and kids to a whole new city on the assurance that you were one of the lucky ones who got to stay employed. Some of them hadn’t even finished unpacking.

Eventually, we were allowed to enter the old office building one at a time and box up our things under the watchful eye of a court appointee, but by then our list of grievances made the landlords’ ploy seem almost quaint by comparison (except for the animals, which remains un-fucking-forgivable.) We had learned, for example, that in the weeks prior to the bankruptcy, our primary lender had made an offer of $15 million—enough to keep us solvent through our next batch of releases, two of which had already exited playtesting and were ready to be burned and shipped. The only catch was that the head of the board, company founder Greg Fischbach, would have to step down. This was apparently too much of an insult for him to stomach, and he decided that he'd rather see everything burn to the ground. The loan was refused.

Other “way worse than we thought” details included gratuitous self-dealing to vendors owned by board members, the disappearance of expensive art from the New York offices just before closure, and the theft of our last two paychecks. For UK employees, it was even more appalling: Acclaim had, for who knows how long, been withdrawing money from UK paychecks for their government-required pension funds, but never actually putting the money into the retirement accounts. They had stolen tens of thousands of dollars directly from each worker.

Though I generally reside somewhere between mellow and complete doormat on the emotional spectrum, I did get riled enough to send out one bitter email—not to anyone in corporate, but to the creators of a popular webcomic called Penny Arcade, who, in the wake of Acclaim’s bankruptcy announcement, published a milquetoast jibe about Midway’s upcoming Area 51. I told Jerry (a.k.a. “Tycho”) that I was frankly disappointed in their lack of cruelty, and aired as much dirty laundry as I was privy to at the time.

“Surely you can find a comedic gem hidden somewhere in all of this!” I wrote. “Our inevitable mocking on PA has been a small light at the end of a very dark, very long tunnel. Please at least allow us the dignity of having a smile on our faces while we wait in line for food stamps.”

Two days later, a suitably grim comic did appear, implying the existence of a new release from Acclaim whose objective was to run your game company into the ground. In the accompanying news post, Tycho wrote:

“We couldn’t let the Acclaim bankruptcy go without comment, though we initially let it slide thinking about the ordinary gamers who lost their jobs there. They don’t have anything to do with Acclaim’s malevolent Public Relations mongrels, and it wasn’t they who hatched the Titty Bike genre either. Then, we remembered that we have absolutely zero social conscience and love to say mean things.”

Another odd experience, by the way, is digging up a 16-year-old complaint to a webcomic creator for nostalgic reference when you offer that same creator a promotional copy of the gaming memoir you just co-wrote with Sid Meier. Even odder, I suppose, to realize that the original non-Acclaim comic had been about Area 51, which you actually were hired to work on yourself soon after the Acclaim debacle.*

As is often the case in complex bankruptcies, the asset liquidation took another six years to fully stagger its way through court—but in 2010, we did, surprisingly, get the ancient paychecks we were owed, plus an extra $1,700-ish for the company’s apparent violation of the WARN Act. By then, I had two kids and a very different life, for which the money was admittedly helpful. Sadly, Acclaim’s implosion probably isn’t even the most egregious one on record. Our sins were, to my knowledge, all money-related, and at least no one was ever sexually assaulted in our office building. Again, to my knowledge. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure we remain the only historical incident of corporate pet murder. The iguana got out just in time.

*Area 51’s main character was voiced by David Duchovny, and he actually got paid—which was lucky for him, because three years later, Midway also declared bankruptcy.

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deadlygronkle · 3 years

Text

Ancestor’s Legacy Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Mask

Words : 1673

Two days earlier

The Links, after one day of searching with little to no rest have found the Boss room. Legend takes the Boss key and unlocks the door watching the chains fall to the ground.

“Alright we will rest here for the night” Time ordered, causing all of the links to sigh in relief and collapse on the ground.

“So who is on first watch, seeing as we are in a dungeon” Warriors asked in a matter of fact tone.

“All I know is it won’t be me.” Legend stated, without his usual snark, watching as Wild pulled out some firewood from his slate in preparation to build a fire.

Legend takes a look at the other Links seeing how they are faring. Sky layed propped up against the wall already falling asleep while Hyrule pulled out a blanket from Sky’s pack and laid it on him. Wild finished making the fire and was looking through his slate mumbling to himself on what to make for dinner. Warriors were now entertaining Wind, with tales from his world, as they waited for the food to be done. Time had taken off his helmet and was currently leaning on the wall opposite of the wall sky with his eyes closed. Twilight was sitting about 3 feet from the fire staring at the flames unblinkingly, face deep in thought.

Legend, wanting to know what they are going to be eating for dinner, approaches Wild and says “Hey, What are you making?”

Wild doing a small jump obviously not paying attention before then stated “I was thinking of something easy like just roasting some deer meat with some hearty radishes and mushrooms!” as he pulled out all the necessary ingredients and cooking utensils from the slate.

Legend nodded and walked away towards the thinking Twilight loudly plopping one the ground making Twilight jump. “Hey Legend, you need something?” Twilight asks clearly not knowing what to do.

“I want to know why you are so spacey recently” Legend said bluntly, annoyed at how quiet and reclusive Twilight has been ever since Time got that helmet, “Wild is getting annoying, seeing as how you are out of it he keeps on bugging the rest of us instead!”

The Links that are awake started to listen in on Legend’s and Twilight’s conversation. Wind moved from standing right infront of Warriors to standing to left of him, and Warriors started talking quieter and giving off ‘discrete’ glances in their direction. Wild moved to the other side of the fire ears twitching every so often. Four, being the least discrete of the other Links, was staring right above Legend’s head as if daydreaming. Hyrule started organizing his bag and taking account of the potions and bandages he had in stock, and Time just tilted his head down looking at his helmet, or what Legends assume he is seeing as how his scarred eye was facing them.

Twilight rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, aware that all ears were on them now, said “I’ve just been thinking of my journey a lot, I will be more on top of it tomorrow”. Twilight turned back to the flames thinking that it was over, instead Four said “Why don’t you tell us about it? Your journey I mean.” now instead of focusing above Legends head Four was staring at Twilight eyes looking red against the flame.

Before Twilight can politely decline Wind interjected with a “Please we barely know anything about your adventure” pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

Wild hummed in agreement before saying “food will be done in like 10 so there's plenty of time” as he watched the food cook.

Twilight became increasingly awkward under Wind’s puppy dog gaze “Well…. I guess as long as everyone else wants to hear it” looking pleadingly at Time.

Time being unhelpful said “Actually Pup, I am quite curious and I’m sure that no one here would mind a story” with a subtle smirk that Twilight could clearly make out.

“Yeah farm boy I want to know how you use that strength in your adventure” Warriors added.

Twilight sighed then pondered for a second before saying “well one time I wrestled my way up death mountain going against nearly every single Goron”. Cries of surprise and disbelief were heard throughout the camp.

“No way!”

“Really?!”

“There’s no way”

“You got to tell us the story now!”

“Can’t leave it at that pup”

Legend scoffed and said “Even that story is true I am not convinced that you don’t take potions.”. Twilight smirked and replied “It’s true and the tale is even more unbelievable”

Wild staring at Twilight with unbelief in his eyes said “Now you got to tell us the story!” Twilight glanced at the food and said “might want to bring you attention back to your food cub” as the radishes were burning on one side causing him to start fussing over it.

“Well I suppose I should tell the story, back at the beginning of my adventure I had to find a piece of a very powerful magical item there. All the gorons wouldn’t allow any Hylians up the mountain and pushed them off before they could even make it 10 feet up! After getting successfully beaten I went back to Ordon on the mayor’s orders, and got taught properly to beat the Gorons at their own game with a few tricks to make sure I don’t get pushed out instantly. Long story short I got to the top sumo wrestled one of the elders, beat him, and then went down and successfully got the part of the artifact and saved their chief” Twilight said with a smile remembering one of his better memories of his Journey.

Before anyone could ask any questions Wild cuts in plates full of food and said “Save your questions for later the foods done!” before handing out the plates full of food, and waking Sky from his slumber, also giving him some food.

Twilight finished his food quickly and said “I’ll take first watch” earning him a frown from Time but Time said nothing.

“I guess I’ll take the 2nd watch” Four stated.

“And I’ll take 3rd” Time supplied.

---------TimeSkip----------

In the morning as they all were getting ready to fight the boss the world shifted out of focus for the Links. “We’re switching” cried Warriors, while Legend gave him a look of ‘No shit’ before they blacked out.

When Wild awoke they were in a desert like town with cucco’s running around and a pond like lake was to the right of him.

When everyone recovered, Time asked “Ok, anyone know where we are?” rubbing his head, Twilight smiled “This is my Kakariko town, home of the death mountain!”

Before anyone could ask Twilight ran forward like an excited puppy and said “Come on, I’ll show y’all around!”

As they walked around town, still a bit too early for the villagers to be up and about, Twilight pointed to different areas around town “That's Malo’s shop, I got my Hylian shield from there, That big building over there is the inn, oh! And over here is the Barnes’ bomb shop. It has been a bit pricey ever since his separate building caught on fire and exploded”. He said that last bit with a pained smile Wild noted curious what part his mentor had to play in that.

“Wait, hold on there Twi, what about that lake back there?” Warriors asked, a bit amused by his comrade’s excitement.

“Oh that is the Spring, it's kinda like a fairy fountain in your world, and speaking of bodies of water there are hot springs everywhere, but the easiest one to get to is up there” Twi pointed up on a ledge “You have to jump a bit but it's well worth it!”

“Well what are we waiting for let’s go!” Sky proclaimed, already tired.

So the Links went up there reading to get a nice relaxing soak in. After They all sit down in the hot springs Time said “Y’know your story last night reminded me of a few thing I have in my possession”

Twilight tilted his head to the left curiously “how so?”

“Well…” Time pulled out his goron mask “It reminds me of this mask that allows me to transform into a goron as long as it is on my face”

“What other masks do you have in your arsenal old man?” Warriors asked from across the spring.

“Well I have one that turns me into a Zora, Korok, and Stalfos just to name a few” Time said.

Twilight zoned out ‘A stalfos does that mean he was alive when he trained me? No, His armour was different with vines growing on him AND he was missing his middle half!” Twilight thought.

“…..Twi you there?” Wild asked, shaking Twilight’s shoulder gently. Twilight jumped and said “Yeah I am fine, I was just uh.. Thinking about id there was a raid since I was last here!”

“Raid?” Wild asked, confused.

“Yeah raid it when Bokoblins on boar mounts trash this village there are two bokoblin per giant boar one is steering while the other shoots flaming arrows at you. And no Wild you can’t ride them, they buck you off at the worst possible times” Twilight stated sending Wild a glare at the unasked question that died in his throat.

Before anyone can ask more questions Twilight got up and said “Would you look at that! The shaman is up, I'll be right back with him!” Twilight then grabbed a cucco and jumped off the ledge and left to go say ‘hi’.

“He is acting weird right?” Hyrule asked worry clear in his tone

“Yeah has been since we found that helmet” Four replied

“What should we do?” asked hyrule

"We don't do anything, he'll be back to normal soon, probably." Said Time also worried.

"Ok..." Hyrule said uncertainly.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu sky #lu legend #lu time #lu wild #lu wind #lu warriors #ancestor's legacy

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themanicmagician · 4 years

Text

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You really shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They’d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

#reddnook #ac #animal crossing #tom nook #redd #animal crossing new horizons #my fic #sable is the best #timmy and tommy continue to be adorable

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Luke//the very first moment i beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone

Request: Can you do a Luke Hemmings x female reader one-shot? The reader is a British actress and was cast as Elizabeth Bennett in the movie Prejudice and Zombies instead of Lily James (I have nothing against her, it’s just that she needs to be removed from the one-shot in order for it to work) and her boyfriend Luke’s there when she and Sam Riley film Elizabeth and Darcy’s fight scene and they go out for lunch with Sam and his wife afterwards? The scene’s from the video on the YouTube channel Movieclips

hey! so i know that this scene wouldn’t have been filmed all in one shot, but i just thought it would be better if i wrote it like i did. i also know they probably didn’t do their own stunts (lie, lily james can do absolutely anything and everything) but well, i made it so you do! anyway. how’s everyone’s day? i hope they’re well! and i hope future me’s day is going well too! i also hope future you is good too!

Your whole life you’d been dreaming of this. Everything you’ve ever done has been leading up to this moment. Your first feature film, before this you’d had small roles in a few cable shows and side characters in a couple of films, as well as playing the main character in some indie film a friend was doing, but this was your big break.

The director and casting agents saw something in you, sent you the script and asked you to send them a tape. You’d done it at 10am, and found out you got the job at 2, so they were clearly very impressed.

And when you told Luke he was even more impressed. You’d never seen him smile so wide and the two of you jumped up and down in excitement before you phoned all your friends and family.

Two weeks later you were on a place back to England with Luke in tow so you could find a small flat to rent for the months you’d be rehearsing and filming. You were of course happy to be home, your house with Luke may be lovely and LA’s weather may be a lot better than Britains but it doesn’t stop the home sickness. However that’s what you were worried about with Luke, he hadn’t been in London for this long since he lived here with the band, so you were worried he’d end up bored and lonely.

But to your surprise he was loving it. He was glad to be back and with you being away filming for most of the day it gave him the chance to do some song writing and to catch up with other hobbies he may have neglected since the success of the band.

Today however, Luke had asked if he could tag along with you. He wanted to see you at work and watch you do what you loved. He said it was only fair because you’d been to all of his shows you could possibly go to, and for a while you were even on tour with him. So now it was his turn to return to the favour.

Plus, he said he needed to see you in action in order to hype you up to everyone he spoke to.

“Okay!” The director calls and the room goes silent.

You make eye contact with Luke and send him a thumbs up which makes him chuckle and shake his head.

“Everyone ready? Good. And action.”

“I’ve come to feel for you a most ardent admiration and regard, which has overcome my better judgement.” Sam starts, his head moves as if he’s trying to find the right words and you stare at him in, your lips pulled into a straight line and your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden declaration.

Even when the camera’s not on you you need to act, it helps keep you in character, helps keep you in the moment, and most importantly it helps whoever you're acting alongside. If they see your reactions to the words they are saying, they can use that to better their own performance and that gives everyone the most authentic scenes possible.

“So.” He takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee. You take a step back, a small gasp leaving your lips as you stare down at him. “Now I ask you most fervently to end my turmoil and consent to be my wife.” He asks and there’s a few seconds of silence while you look between him and the floor.

“If I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you...” You start, your voice quiet. Hurt flashes through your eyes as you take a deep breath and say your next line.

You have to admit, the way Sam is staring up at you, it does kind of feel like you’re turning down an actual marriage proposal, and if this is what it feels like when you’re just pretending, you hope you never have to do it in real life.

“But I cannot.” You sigh, nodding your head just to get your point across. “I never desired your good opinion and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.”

Sam blinks and looks at the floor, not really sure what to say next. He stands, confusion thinly veiling the disappointment that’s written all over his face and you shift awkwardly. The fabric of your dress crinkling is the only thing that can be heard in the room as you smooth the skirt out, waiting for Sam to say his line.

“Might I be informed why?” He huffs. “With so little, endeavour at civility, I have been rejected?”

“You intentionally ruined the happiness of my my most beloved sister.” You reply, and tilt your head up to try and regain some sort of authority. “Do you deny it?” You ask and he lets out a short breath.

“I have no wish to deny it.” He replies, bitterness lacing his tone and you raise an eyebrow at him. “I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister.”

Your jaw tightens and you look him up and down, both of you have a silent conversation, just to make sure the other one’s ready, and then you kick him. He throws himself backwards, landing on the desk with a loud crash, a fake vase breaks under the weight and you shout. “How could you?”

“Because I perceived his attachment to her to be far deeper that to hers to him.” He replies, narrowly avoiding the books you’re throwing at him. Of course you’re told to try and miss him on purpose, but it still is really fun to be able to throw things at someone and get paid for it. “I believed her to be indifferent.”

“Indifferent?!” You gasp incredulity. “She’s shy!” You seethe and finish throwing the books. One of the smashes a window and Sam looks behind him concerned before looking back at you.

You walk around the room, deep in thought and Sam watches you as you grab a fire poker from the fireplace.

When rehearsing this part, you seemed to have a problem with waving it around too much.

You think you get a bit too into it and each time you swung it around you always seemed to break something, so you’re hoping and praying that this time you won’t cause any property damage.

The props department has already had to replace three vases and a clock because of you, so let’s hope you don’t break anything or anyone else.

Sam gulps as you slowly make your way towards him and he takes a few steps backwards, looking incredibly nervous as his gaze moves from you and the stick.

“Did you suggest to Mr Bingley that his fortune had some bearing on the matter?” You ask and he backs up towards the glass. Nothing you’re saying is threatening, but the way you’re brandishing your new weapon, you do look like you’re going to stab him.

Luke watches on amazed, he’s never seen you like this before. This is you in your element, doing what you love to do and transporting yourself and the people around you back to a time where people wore corsets and zombies ran around.

Luke knows people that when they step in front of a camera or onto a stage, they are just totally themselves. Whatever they’re doing, whether it’s singing, acting or dancing, it’s like a second nature to them. They know what they need to do, when they need to do and they don’t even have to think about it.

But he’s never seen anything like this before. A part of him wonders if it’s just because he loves you, but then he realizes that everyone else watching you and Sam work together are also totally floored by how brilliantly the scene its going. How the two of you work together, the small glances and little touches, every little thing you do just adds to the scene and he’s never been prouder.

“I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonour...though it was suggested.” He adds and you swing the poker over your head. He ducks, missing each attempted hit and you fall onto the table. He takes the opportunity to jump over it and when you turn around to try and regain your balance, he grabs your wrists and pins you to the table.

“By Miss Bingley.” You ask furiously and his grip tightens.

“By your mother, at the ball.” He replies and you shut up. He glances down and you stare at him annoyed, pushing him off you and swinging your weapon around. He misses each hit, just like you’ve practiced and you can’t wait to watch it back.

“Your character was revealed to me many months ago by Wickham.” You say after each missed hit, and he wrestles you to the floor, making you drop your weapon. “As I heard of his scandalous misfortunes at your hand.” You spit and wrap your ankles around his neck, squeezing just a tiny bit.

“Oh, yeah. Mr Wickham’s misfortunes have been very great indeed.” He struggles to speak and grabs on your legs, his hands shake so it looks like he’s struggling and when he’s finished you pull him forward just a little and pretend to punch him in the face, making him stumble backwards again.

A chair smashes when he lands on it and you quickly stand up, grabbing the letter opener as you do. He rolls over and stands and the two of you stare at each other before you move forward. He blocks each attempt at a hit and the two of you move backwards and forwards.

Fight scenes remind you of well rehearsed dance numbers. You move one way, they move the other. Each hit has to be choreographed to make it look real but remain safe and both of you have to know exactly what you’re doing otherwise it can end in disaster.

“You withhold the advantages that you know were designed for him.” You slice the letter opener down his shirt, popping the buttons and he stares down at it, watching the small pieces fall to the ground. He looks back at you, letting down his guard and you swing your arms up to hit him in the face. He grabs them and pushes you into the door.

“This is your opinion of me?” He asks, grabbing the poker of the floor and swinging it around a few times. “Then I thank you for explaining it so fully.” He slowly edges towards you and you do the same, giving each other untrustworthy looks.

You lunge towards him, raising the blade and he narrowly avoids it, using one hand to grab yours while the other slices the top of your dress. The buttons pop and a part of it comes down, exposing the top of the corset below.

You both look down before you slowly raise your head to glare at him. He looks at you afterwards, and he glances at you, raising his eyebrow before you take a deep breath and spin kick him.

He falls to the floor and you raise the blade above your head, an annoyed groan escapes your lips as you run towards him. He grabs your arms spinning the two of you around and you back hits the floor with a loud thud.

You feel the air being knocked out of you for a split second Sam looks worried that he’s hurt you, but you send him and look and he seems to get the message. Get the job done and then ask if you’re alright.

His hands pin your arms to the hard floor and he rests between your legs, the two of you panting and hot while staring at each other.

“You could not have made the offer of your hand, in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.” You say through gritted teeth. “I had not known you a month, before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” You finish and he lets go.

You sit up, pointing the blade at his chest and he stares down at you, hurt flashing through his eyes. However the facade quickly comes back and he pulls his gaze away from you, his expression hardens as he stares straight ahead.

“You’ve said quite enough, madam.” He forces himself to look at you. “I fully comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.” He stands and quickly walks away from you.

He turns back around to watch you stand, his hands resting on his hips as he figures out the best way to end this.

“Please forgive me and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.” He bows and quickly leaves the room.

You pull yourself up onto the chair, waiting for the sound of the door closing as your cue to start crying. The camera slowly zooms in on you, tears run down your cheeks and you let out a shaky breath.

“Cut!” The director calls and you look at him.

“Did we get it?” You ask and Sam pokes his head back through the door, glancing between you and the crew.

“Yeah, we got it. Good job guys!” He replies and everyone cheers.

“You were brilliant!” You grin at Sam.

“You did pretty well too.” He jogs over to you, his boots squeaking as he runs and you let out a small giggle. He reaches his hand out to you, helping you stand and leading you off set and towards Luke and Alexandra.

“You’re such a gentleman.” You tease. “You’re very lucky Alex.” You smile and she laughs, rolling her eyes at her husband.

“Yeah. Sure I am.” She replies and the three of you laugh, while Sam just glares at you. You pull a face at him and he huffs loudly at you.

“Take lunch guys. Everyone needs to back by 2.” A producer tells you and you let out a pained breath.

“Oh shit. Are you okay. You hit that floor pretty hard.” Sam asks and Luke’s eyes widen in concern. He’s stood in front of you instantly, gripping your arms and he looks you over.

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks and you smile at his concern.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t so bad, I think it’s just the corset making it feel worse. I’ll be fine when I take it off.” You reassure them and Sam nods slowly, not quite believing you.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to your trailer.” Luke says and looks around to try and figure out where he’s supposed to be going.

“You go out of the door, walk all the way down the corridor, take a left and then a right and then another right. Go through them doors and her trailer is the first one you’ll see.” Sam explains and Luke’s blinks at him.

“I’m fine.” You laugh. “Come on. I can get there on my own. I’ve cracked a rib not my brain.”

“You’ve crac-”

“Joking.” You place a hand on his arm and he lets out a nervous breath.

“Not funny.” He pouts and you pull the same expression.

“Aww.” You pinch your cheek. “Come on.” You grab his hand and start pulling him away. “Oh, do you guys want to head out for lunch together?” You call over your shoulder. Sam and Alexandra look at each other before nodding, an eager smile twitching at their lips.

“Yeah. Sounds great.” Sam replies.

“Great. Swing by my trailer in like twenty minutes and we can get going.”

“Okay!” He replies and you wave one last time before disappearing through the door.

“So, what did you think?” You look up at Luke and he gives you a toothy grin.

“That was amazing!” He exclaims. “You were so fucking good. How are you so badass. How did I get the most talented, pretty, smart and badass girlfriend in the world. You like destroyed him and you still gorgeous while doing it. How? I jump around on stage for a bit and by the time I get off I look like a sweaty giant. But you. You literally fake fight people and act and cry all in a massive dress and you still look like...like that.” He motions wildly and you look at the floor, heat creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks.

“Did you really like it?” You ask one more time.

“Yes!” He laughs. “If I wasn’t a singer, I definitely would be an actor.”

“You could be both. Harry Styles acts.” You reply, pushing through yet another door. He stops in the doorway, and hums as he thinks about what you’ve just said.

��Yeah.” He nods. “That’s very true. Hey!” He smiles brightly. “You never know. One day we could be in a movie together!”

---

“Have I ever told you that you look really hot wielding a weapon.” Luke asks as he watches you shuffle out of the bathroom. Your dress is bunched around your waist while you slowly try and pry yourself out of the fabric.

Luke stands behind you, undoing the buttons at the bottom of it and after he’s done the last one it falls to the ground. You stand in a corset and stockings, with your hair up in curls and look over your shoulder at him.

“No, you haven’t.” You blush. “But you can tell me if you want.” You wink and his own cheeks heat up once he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Well, you look very hot when wielding a weapon.”

“Thank you.” You smile and step out of your dress. “Can you pick that up and just hang it on that please?” You point towards the hanger on the chair. He nods and you watch him carefully pick your dress up.

“It’s not going to break you know.” You tease as you undo the top of your corset.

“With my luck it will.” He mutters and you snort a laugh.

“True.” You agree.

“Would you like some help?” He asks after watching you struggle for a while.

“Please.” You slump as best you can and a pout takes over your appearance.

“I hope when I ask you to marry me you don’t have the same reaction.” He mumbles while fiddling the strings and buttons.

“It depends how you ask me, and how much you’ve annoyed me that day.” You shrug and he pauses to give you a disapproving look. “Joking.”

“Not funny.”

“You always say that.” You frown. “But I think I’m hilarious.”

“Yeah. You think you’re great.” He grumbles and pulls on a bit of fabric. “And done!” He cheers and let’s go. You turn around and look at him surprised.

“How did you do that so quickly?”

“I’m just that good.” He winks and you roll your eyes.

“Sure you are.” You walk towards the bathroom and pat his shoulder. “Give me five minutes to get changed and then we can get lunch.”

“Take all the time you want.” He replies. “I’m going to snoop while you’re gone.”

“If you find my secret phone and pictures of my other boyfriend can you just put them back where you found them?” You tease and he looks at you amused.

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” You grin and push the door closed.

---

“So how are you finding London?” Sam asks after swallowing the last of his lunch.

“I love being back home!” You grin. “I’ve missed England’s shit weather so much. There’s nothing like a miserable day to really cheer you up.”

“Are they pulling that corset a little too tight?” Alexandra teases making you giggle while sipping your water.

“I think it’s just an English thing.” Luke replies, shaking his head playfully while staring at you.

“I think it’s just a Y/n thing.” Sam replies and you send him a glare.

“Hey, LA weather isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The rain can be good you know.” You argue.

“Sure it can be.” He replies. “What about you Luke?”

“It’s great! This is the longest I’ve stayed here in years and I love it. I’ve been seeing friends I have’t spoken to in years.” He talks enthusiastically and you watch him fondly as he waves his arms around. Sam and Alex share a look before looking back at him.

“You guys are made for each other.” Alexandra smiles. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh.” You giggle, a little embarrassed as you think of the story.

“Ooo, you’re embarrassed. Tell us.” Sam prods your arm and you swat him away.

“Fine.” You huff. “I was a fan of his music, so I sent him a DM and asked if he liked a certain show that I was in. He er, he told me he did and I told him I was in it, so he asked who I played. I told him and we just kind of started talking from there.”

“Awww.” Alexandra gushes and you rolls your eyes. “And how is it dating an actor?” She asks Luke. “For me it’s a nightmare.” She looks at Sam and he stares at her offended.

“What did I do?”

“The black eye.” She raises and eyebrow and he shuts up.

“The black eye?” You ask.

“He came home with a black eye a while ago. I thought he’s been beaten up or robbed or something. It didn’t help that he limped through the front door, there was blood on his lip and everything. He wouldn’t tell me what happened and then after a few minutes of me panicking, he told me it was just make up from a film he was doing.” She explains and your jaw drops.

“Sam!” You gasp.

“I thought it would be funny!” He defends.

“How is that funny?!” You and Alex say at the same time.

“That is pretty funny.” Luke laughs and the three of you look at him.

“Thank you!”

“Fine. I’ll do that and then we’ll see how you like it.” You reply and he shrugs.

“Well, you’ve told me you’re going to do it now so I’ll know what you’re doing.”

“And what if I have actually been mugged? Are you going to take that chance?” You raise an eyebrow.

“She’s got you there.” Sam says. “And I wouldn’t argue with her, she’s got a hell of a kick when she wants to.”

“I didn’t even touch you.” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not the point.” He argues.

“I can actually kick you next time if you want?”

“No thanks.” He shakes his head quickly. Him and Alexandra start their own conversation about what to have for dinner and so you turn your body to face Luke. He’s already staring at you when you look at him and you feel yourself become breathless.

“What?” You wonder.

“Nothing. I’m just proud of you.” He shrugs. “So when you win your first of many oscars, will I be the first person you thank?”

“Hmmm.” You pretend to think for a while. “As long as I’m first on your grammy speech?”

“Deal.”

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #5sos #5sos imagine #pride and predjudice and zombies

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hazel-writes · 3 years

Text

Summary:

will-o’-the-wisp (noun):

1. a phosphorescent light seen hovering or floating at night on marshy ground.

2. a person or thing that is difficult or impossible to reach or catch.

Word Count: 6,600

Warnings: mild violence, (lots of) emotional distress

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I've got a ticket to the moon

I'll be leaving here any day soon

Yeah, I've got a ticket to the moon

But I'd rather see the sunrise, in your eyes

• Ticket to the Moon - Electric Light Orchestra •

Being back on the Finalizer was strange. You were put on the ship for a single purpose: to gather intel, hide information in posters, and distribute them on various planets for the Resistance to find. But now, after everything that you learned about your brother, and especially after what happened on Lothal, you decided you were done working for the Resistance.

You recognized that the Order had done terrible things — was doing terrible things. But you would find another way to help, one that didn’t involve the Resistance, the same organization that murdered Benji. There were good people on the Finalizer. People who had been there for you more than your own parents had. Ones who would even take a blaster bolt for you… and who you would take a blaster bolt for.

As you walked the halls of the Finalizer, one week since the mission to Lothal, you found yourself more on edge than you ever had been. The Commander was off-ship and you hadn’t seen him since he healed your arm, an act that you still hadn’t fully processed. Finn was doing better — the doctors and med-droids managed to get him stabilized. He was still in the medbay, but mainly out of precaution. He was no longer hooked up to machines and everyone was impressed by how fast he had managed to heal.

Regardless of his resilience, you felt horribly guilty for putting him in such a dangerous situation to begin with, something you had attempted to tell him many times. All you wanted was for him to yell at you, lash out, cry, something. But he brushed off every single one of your apologies as if you had merely stepped on his toe.

Every morning you had been checking up on him before heading to the artist workspace. However, today when you entered his room, you found the bed empty. A wave of confusion, followed by worry, coursed through you. No, no, no. The doctors said he could still take a turn for the worse, but you thought he was doing better. He can’t be… you thought. No way, he’s too stubborn to die. Right? Panicking, you crossed the room, finding the button on the wall that would call the medical attendants.

Right as you neared the button, a startled cry came from behind you: “Wait! Don’t-”

You spun on your heel and was shocked to see none other than Finn hopping over to you on one leg. He was struggling to get a piece of armor around his foot and as he hobbled in your direction, tangled pieces of his arm and leg plates dragged behind him.

“What do you think you’re do-” you started before Finn cut you off with a single finger to your lips. He gave you a stern look before checking over both his shoulders to see if anyone had heard.

You glared at him and tried speaking again, this time in a harsh whisper. “What on Hoth do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be in bed!”

Finn continued to hastily put on pieces of his armor. “I’m getting outta here. Can’t stand it. These people-”

“You mean the doctors?” you interrupted, incredulously.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, the doctors ,” he whispered dramatically. “They’re drivin’ me crazy.” He continued talking, the words coming out in short breaths as he wrestled with his chestplate. “They come in here… poke me with those sharp torture devices… ask me stupid questions… and then tell me I can’t leave!”

This made you snort out a laugh. “Sharp torture devices? You’d think someone who had just been shot wouldn’t mind a few needles.”

“You know what?” He paused, his nose held high in the air as his lips formed a stubborn line. He held up a finger, searching for a comeback that never came. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment. I have places to be.”

Now you were the one who was irritated. “Places to be? I checked and made sure you didn’t have duty for another week!”

He sighed, securing the final piece of armor. “I’m not going on duty. I’m going to get some food — the stuff they’ve been giving me here sucks.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course his priority was the food. “Finn, you’re still healing. I can bring you something to eat!”

“Not happening. These doctors and droids creep me out and I want to leave.”

“But-”

“You would like to accompany me? How nice of you to offer!”

You sighed. This was yet another battle you wouldn’t win.

“Fine,” you conceded. “I’ll walk you to the cafeteria, but then I have to meet with the crew.”

“Fantastic, after you,” he said, pulling his helmet over his head and gesturing towards the open door.

You started for the exit with a huff, but suddenly put out an arm to stop Finn before he could leave the room. He looked down at you, cocking his head slightly in confusion.

“Just know that I will be checking up on you every single day for the next week,” you told him, shooting him your most intimidating stare. “And I am much scarier than those doctors and droids you’ve been complaining about.”

He nodded, his shoulders sinking slightly, before once again gesturing to the open doorway. You shook your head briefly and began walking towards the cafeteria. The two of you travelled in silence for a while but at the midpoint of your trek across the Finalizer, when the corridors became a bit more crowded, you felt Finn put a guiding hand on the small of your back. Once you rounded a corner, it was just you and him again.

A couple more minutes passed and you felt him fall slightly behind you. A familiar tingle at the back of your neck made itself known as a wash of uncertainty enveloped you. You turned to look at Finn, whose helmet was darting around at the walls nervously. Looking down, you noticed his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Something is wrong.

You once again put out a hand to stop him from walking any further. “Alright, that’s it. Tell me what’s up.”

He looked at you, startled, confused, and slightly guilty.

“Uh… Nothing’s up. W-why do you ask?”

You put a hand on your hip and raised one suspicious eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar. You’re all fidgety — what’s going on?”

He turned to face you, debating whether or not to deny you any further. This time, you won.

“Ugh, why are you like this?” he said, exasperated. You gave him a mocking shrug, waiting for him to continue.

“Fine. I was just thinking…” He looked everywhere but at you. “In case you happened to be wondering, it’s...” he paused before letting out a dramatic sigh. “It’s Koda’s birthday tomorrow.” Another huff of breath came from under his helmet. “There. You happy now?”

“His birthday?” you repeated, even though you had heard him clearly.

“Yeah. He doesn’t really tell anyone…” Finn paused, shifting on his feet, his tone becoming more serious. “I’m not sure if you remember what happened on the day I found him…”

You tried to remember the conversation you had with Koda. You recalled his somber expression as he painstakingly relayed to you his childhood on Dantooine.

“Yeah,” you said. “He told me that parents skipped his own birthday for some Resistance diplomat’s birthday party, right?”

Finn nodded. “Pretty much. It went beyond that, but that was the breaking point for him.” He sighed deeply, obviously affected by the thought of Koda being neglected, before continuing. “Then he took off, found me and a few other troopers, and came back here with us.”

You nodded solemnly before speaking again. “So why are you telling me this now? The last time I saw you guys in a room together you repelled like magnets.”

You had a pretty good idea of the answer to your question, but you wanted to hear it from Finn himself. Despite the rift that had grown between the two men, you sensed that they still cared about each other deeply. After all, that was what their whole argument was based on: not hate or malice, but friendship, loyalty, and love.

“Well, Koda came to visit me in the medbay a few days ago. He didn’t say much but… I don’t know. I guess it just got me thinking about what you said — about cutting him some slack for his decision to stay with the Order when he could’ve left.”

“And?” you tried to hold back your smile, happy to see that something you said had stuck with him. Finn deserved to get his best friend back.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Aaaand I’m not gonna say any more about it because you are getting way too much enjoyment out of this.”

You put your own arms up defensively. “Okay, okay, I’ll be civil. Thank you for telling me. I’ll think of something we can put together for him.”

Finn nodded, but neither of you went to move forward.

“You’re invited of course,” you suggested, knowing that he would probably decline.

You were right and watched as he shook his head. “I dunno, I’m not sure he’d want me there. Baby steps, ya know?”

You were going to protest, but you decided to trust him on this one. He knew Koda the best and you wanted him to do this at his own pace. “I understand,” you smiled warmly. “Baby steps it is.”

————————————

It was Koda’s birthday. You had told Rilea about the situation and after a moment of shock, an emotion you didn’t see from her often, she immediately went into party planning mode. You were a little surprised that Koda hadn’t told Rilea about his birthday before; she had known him the longest and could name everything from his favorite foods to his pet peeves. In a way though, it made sense. Koda wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to ‘burden’ others with his own problems.

You, Rilea, Akilah, and even Soren, gathered in the artist workspace waiting for Koda to arrive. Rilea had told him there was an emergency meeting and that he needed to meet them urgently. She was now running around the room frantically, making sure everything was in its proper place. Akilah, being one of the tallest members of the group, was busy retaping decorations to the ceiling. Soren stood at the back of the room, fidgeting with a stack of napkins. You worked on scattering shredded pieces of colored paper, what Rilea referred to as ‘budget confetti’, on the tables.

Looking around, you realized how different the group was without Koda present. He always managed to fill any room he entered with life. He and Rilea were constantly yelling at each other, whether that be out of excitement over some mutual interest, or irritation at each other’s silly disagreements. Akilah and Koda could sometimes be found in a quiet corner of the room, having some sort of intellectual debate, which Akilah almost always won. Even though Soren acted like he despised Koda, the latter always knew how to bring him into a conversation when he quietly hovered at the back of the room.

Koda had the amazing ability to say all the right things just when you needed it. He made you feel like you could be honest around him, largely due to the way he wore his own heart on his sleeve. He was fiercely loyal to his friends and his beliefs and despite having only known him for a little while, you trusted him to have your back through anything.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your train of thought and Rilea flew to the front of the room, her wild golden hair streaming behind her. She whispered harshly for everyone to be quiet. A few seconds later, Koda walked through the door.

“What’s goin-”

Rilea gave the signal.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

He looked around the room in shock. Colorful garlands criss-crossed the ceiling, dangling above a table lined with all his favorite foods. Hand-drawn signs were hung on the walls, the flickering light from the cake’s candles bouncing off of them. Bright pieces of paper decorated the tables like stars in the sky. It was the kind of birthday party he always wished he could’ve had as a kid.

It was perfect.

“You guys…” he started, rendered speechless by the scene before him.

You watched as he looked at each of you, adorned with paper hats that Rilea made from leftover posters. He chuckled when he saw Soren, who was still sulking towards the back, wearing one, though he knew it was probably against his will.

He finally spoke, choking on his words as he did so. “You all did this for me?”

“Of course.” you said. “That’s what family does.”

It was a simple statement, but one that held deep meaning in Koda’s life. His eyes welled with tears and he shook his head, looking down towards his feet, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Noticing his reaction, Rilea stepped beside him, grabbing his hand before pulling him in for a hug. You watched them with a silent smile, knowing that you were witnessing the start of something special.

Rilea pulled away, tears now filling her eyes too, before chuckling to herself. “Look what you made me do you big oaf,” she said, playfully hitting Koda in the arm. They each had one arm wrapped around the other’s waist. You glanced over at Akilah, who was already looking back at you, a knowing smirk on both of your faces.

Rilea’s shout broke the silence. “What are you two looking at? Come on, don’t you want to join in this emotional mess?”

You looked at Akilah and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

You joined the hug and watched as Akilah hesitated before heading to where Soren was brooding, and grabbed his hand. He looked like a scared loth-cat as she dragged him over to where you, Rilea, and Koda were huddled. She forcefully wrapped an arm around him, bringing him into the group hug. The five of you stayed like that for what seemed like eons. Despite your differences, it was true, you had become a family. A strange dysfunctional space family, but a family nonetheless. When it came down to it, you would all go to the ends of the galaxy for each other.

Koda was the first to move, taking a step back from the group. “Wait a second, how did you know today was my birthday?”

You smirked knowingly, mimicking his movement. “A stubborn stormtrooper you and I both know may have told me yesterday.”

His eyes opened wide and he shifted on his feet. You could tell he was trying to look casual, but the crack in his voice said otherwise. “Finn? He… he did?”

“He did,” you replied.

“Oh,” he said, stunned. “I guess... I should thank him at some point.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I think he’d like that.”

“So are we going to eat at any time in the near future?” Soren asked, obviously uncomfortable with the excess of emotions surrounding him. Akilah shot him a sharp glare, prompting him to look down at his feet in stubborn apology.

Koda stepped forward, eyeing the table for himself. “Are those Dantooine flapjacks?” he asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah, I heard you talk about them once when we first met,” Rilea said. “I asked around the ship looking for a recipe and it turns out one of my pops’ coworkers is from Dantooine, so she helped me out a bit.”

“Stars, I haven’t had these in years.” He turned towards Rilea, gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you.”

She waved him off. “Awe, don’t go all soft on me now you ol’ Ewok.”

He smiled, tugging on a piece of her hair playfully. “Whatever Spacer, let’s eat.”

You were surprised to hear Koda’s nickname for Rilea. ‘Spacer’ was a term used for people who had spent their whole lives in space. You had heard Rilea mention her dad, or ‘pops’ as she called him, just moments before, but realized you really didn’t know too much about her upbringing or her family. You made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Right now, all you wanted to do was sit back, eat cake, and enjoy this small, beautiful moment with your favorite people. Moments like these didn’t come around too often on the Finalizer, but when they did, it was magical.

—————————————

Later that day, word had gotten around that the Commander was back from his mission. Excitement and worry coursed through your body. You needed to talk to him. You didn’t know why exactly — it was just a feeling. And it was this feeling that seemed to be bringing you closer and closer to the training room.

When you arrived, the door was open a crack, and upon peeking through you recognised the telltale cloak of the Commander. He was turned away from you, making it hard to read his mood.

“Commander?” you said quietly, tapping the door lightly.

No response. The nerves you had felt moments ago were much more prominent now. You were about to knock on the door again when you heard a low: “Come in.”

He didn’t turn to you as you entered. Instead, he continued to face the large window that looked out at the expanse of space that surrounded the Finalizer. Sensing that something was wrong, you closed the door behind you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” His answer came quick, too quick.

“No you’re not.” You approached him cautiously. “I can feel it.”

A low sound came from his direction and you watched as his shoulders shakily rose and fell suddenly. “You are getting good at that.”

You knew he was referencing your ability to read others’ emotions, something you had always attributed to your intuitive personality until you arrived on the Finalizer. You thought about how you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing the abilities you now possessed, how you could’ve never come to understand the power that flowed through your body.

You smiled, grateful that you now knew the truth about yourself. “Only thanks to your training.”

“No, not just that.” He finally turned to look at you, but what you saw made you frown. He seemed... tired. His hair was a bit messier than usual and his eyes didn’t have that glint of stubborn determination that they normally did. He continued speaking: “You’ve had this power within you since you were born. Now you are simply learning how to harness it.”

“Yeah, well…” you let the rest of your sentence drift off. He was deflecting. “You still haven’t told me what’s bothering you.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He is so stubborn, you thought. “I don’t doubt that, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth talking about.”

He paused for a moment, considering your statement, before responding. “My superior and I are having… a disagreement.”

You shuddered at the mention of his superior, the one you still knew nothing about besides the fact that he was dangerous. And that the most powerful man you knew was afraid of him.

“About what?” you asked, nervously.

“You.”

Your skin went cold. He knew. He knew you were Force sensitive. He knew the Commander was training you. He knew about Lothal. Oh, kriff. What if he knew that you had been working for… No, he would’ve said something by now. He probably would’ve killed you by now. The thought made you shiver. The Commander must have sensed your unease and took a few steps in your direction, his face briefly twitching in worry.

“He doesn’t know about your abilities. I’ve managed to keep that from him. But he knows that you’re…” You held your breath, preparing for the worst: your biggest secret to finally be revealed. “Special. He knows that you are important to m-” he paused, correcting himself, but not before you caught onto what he was about to say. “He knows that you are important.”

You signed in relief. He still didn’t know who you were. The initial panic dissolving, you finally managed to process what he had said, a blush creeping onto your face as you did. Stars, where did that come from?

“O-oh,” you managed to stutter out.

He seemed unaffected by your surprise. “If he finds out about your abilities… I’m not sure I can-” He pauses and looks down at his hands, seemingly frustrated at himself. “He’s powerful. Too powerful.”

You were growing more and more curious about his superior. It was unlike the Commander to admit his weakness so you knew that he must be extremely powerful. But the Commander was surrounded by those with power, what made this person so different? And why did he want to keep you from him so bad?

You decided to prod further. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded silently.

“Why don’t you give me up to him? He would reward you greatly, I’m sure. Why not just give him what he wants?”

You watched as his eyebrows drew together in what seemed like a joint expression of confusion and frustration. “I’ve seen what he can do. If he finds out you’re force-sensitive, he’ll try to train you himself. But his training… methods… are different from mine.”

“Different?”

“They’re cruel,” he responded bluntly.

“But if I’m going to be powerful, powerful like you…”

He interrupted you sternly. “I don’t want you to be powerful like me. Never.” He softened his voice after noticing the surprised look on your face. “It’s just… you can be powerful, but in your own way. I don’t want you to…”

The end of his sentence was left suspended in the space between you.

“What?” you asked, not willing to let his thought slide.

“Change,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to change.”

This was different, you thought. When you first met the Commander, he seemed adamant on making you do things his way, and now, he wanted you to do the opposite.

“And you think if your superior trains me, I’ll change?” you asked.

“Yes.” The Commander moves to sit down, but does so slowly. Too slowly. A slight groan escapes his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you ask again, taking a few steps towards him.

“I told you,” he grunted, dark hair concealing his eyes. “I’m fine.”

A dark thought crossed your mind, one involving the enigmatic figure that Kylo worked for.

“Did… did he do something to you?”

He gripped the chair tightly in response. The action did not pass by you unnoticed. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You keep saying that Commander but-”

“Kylo. Call me Kylo.”

“Kylo,” you said the name confidently for the first time. It felt much better than saying Commander, but something still didn’t sit right about the way it rolled off your tongue. You drew your attention back to Kylo, who was breathing heavier than you would’ve liked, obviously straining to conceal whatever injury he had sustained from you. Thinking for a second, an idea began to form in your mind. “Let me help.”

“What?” he questioned skeptically.

“I could try using the Force.”

He answered immediately, sitting up straight and looking at you, fierceness returning to his eyes. “No.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. You had spent the last few weeks training with him for moments like these, and now he was declining you the opportunity to put what you learned into practice.

You tried mentioning this to him. “Please, I need to test my abilities.”

He simply shook his head in response. “No, it’s dangerous. You’ve already done enough for me.”

You took a step closer to him. Even though he was sitting down, he was still only slightly shorter than you. You reached out slowly, taking one of his hands in yours. He stilled for a moment, unsure of what to do, before closing his fingers around yours. He had taken his gloves off before you entered the room, and you found yourself savoring the touch of his bare hand against yours. It was warm, but rough. Hardened by years of fighting. Each one of his fingers was twice the size of yours and you could feel the Force subtly flow through the places where your palms and knuckles touched.

“You healed me once,” you said quietly. “Now let me return the favor.”

You felt his hands suddenly tighten around yours, as if he was afraid to let go. His chin quivered briefly before he looked up at you, his hazel eyes glistening with something unfamiliar. Were those… tears?

“Why are you- After everything I’ve done, you still… How?”

His words came in short, frantic bursts.

“Kylo…” you paused, trying to find the right words of your own. You needed to do something, say something, that showed him he could accept your help; that he was worthy of your help. “We all do things we aren’t proud of, especially when we are under the orders of others.” A throb of guilt ran through your body. “But there will always be surprising glimpses of clarity and peace that help to keep us centered. Special moments where our hearts defeat our heads. And it’s those moments that keep us going and it’s those moments that should define us. I learned this from you, Kylo. When you trained me to use my powers, when you carried me through the woods on Dantooine, when you spared my father’s life simply because I asked, when you told me about the convor on Lothal, and when you healed my arm simply so I could draw again…” You shook your head, smiling at the recollection of memories.

“My dad used to tell me this story, you know… It was about these lights that would appear to travellers at night — he called them will-o’-the-wisp. He said you can only see them in the marshes of Lothal near the ancient Jedi temples and were known for leading travellers astray. There are different tellings of what the lights actually are: some say they’re the spirits of the dead, set on vengeance, others say they lead you to hidden treasure. But what most people can agree on is that these lights are symbols of false hope.”

You paused, choosing your next words wisely. You wanted to be vulnerable, so Kylo would know it was okay for him to be vulnerable too.

“Sometimes I feel like that, like I’m a traveller, blindly following the will-o’-the-wisp.” You chuckled, raising a hand out towards the massive window. “After all, we are just space dust at the end of the day. Years from now, I won’t be here. You won’t be here. This galaxy won’t be here. No one will remember us, or all that we’ve fought for. We are so small compared to the rest of the universe.” You shook your head, looking down at your hands incredulously. “But despite knowing that, for some strange and ridiculous reason, we still care.” You now smiled to yourself, as if processing the meaning behind your words for the first time. “Life is silly. It’s trivial. Ephemeral. But somehow, we manage to make it big and beautiful.” For the first time since you began talking, you looked up at Kylo. “There’s something amazing about that, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer — he simply gazed into your eyes with his own earthy irises. You took that as a sign to continue. “It’s something I know I want to be a part of, and I think that you do too. You’ve shown me that it’s okay to feel sad, angry, or lost, just like it’s okay to feel happy and content.” Your smile grew even wider, your eyes shining bright despite the darkness of the room. “Admittedly, I still need to work a bit on the former, and from what I’ve seen, I think you need to work on the latter.” Kylo let out a huff of air, making you smirk. “But I know it’s there. I’ve seen you laugh when you think no one’s listening. I saw how you smiled on Lothal. I’ve even heard your attempts at cracking jokes. It’s all there. Please, Kylo, let me help. You deserve help.”

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes on the exhale. You knew that at this moment he was fighting an internal battle; a battle between the part of him that desperately needed help, and the other more dominant part of him that was too stubborn to admit it.

“Okay.”

You nodded and sat on your knees in front of him, your right hand still holding his, attempting to hide your slight shock at his concession. You had never healed anyone before. To be fair, you had never really tried. But you thought that because his injury didn’t seem to be life-or-death, it was at least worth a shot.

You weren’t sure where exactly he was hurting, so you relied on your instincts to guide you. A prickle that ran through your left hand prompted you to take his other hand in yours. Closing your eyes, you began to probe his body with your mind, trying to find any areas of the force that felt weak.

After a few minutes passed with no luck, you felt something start to happen. It began as a small pinprick of feeling at the back of your head. Before long, the prick transformed into a tingle that ran throughout your entire body. You felt pulses of electricity move through your neck, shoulders, forearms, all the way down to your hands; the ones that still held tightly to Kylo’s. Then, it was gone. However, almost as soon as it left, it was replaced by a similar tingle, but one you knew didn’t belong to you. It was Kylo.

You hadn’t even thought about the fact that doing this could break down your own barriers enough that he would be let in. You felt the foreign tingle work its way up your body, guiding its tendrils to your neck before eventually reaching towards the edges of your mind.

You tried to build up your walls again, letting out a small gasp, but it was too late. Whatever Kylo was doing, he wasn’t doing it on purpose. This was out of his control and yours. You felt a large, trembling hand cradle the back of your neck, stabilizing you as you slipped backwards, weak from your exertion. You panicked as you realized that all you could do was try to guide him towards the harmless memories — the ones of you and Finn walking the hallways of the Finalizer, or you waving at a scowling Mrs. Stoney at the reception desk, or when you ate Koda’s birthday cake earlier that day…

But your mind had other ideas.

Your memories flitted before you like pages in an out-of-control flipbook, inching closer and closer to the one that you couldn’t let Kylo see. You squeezed your hands tighter around his as you tried to stop the flashes as they moved towards your most terrible secret. The visions became filled by images and scenes of your brother, your dad, your mom ...

The whole world seemed to stand still as you suddenly found yourself back in your home on Lothal. You looked around, knowing exactly what you were about to witness; what Kylo was about to witness.

“You’re an artist; you always have been. An artist who can save the Resistance with her work.” Your mother paused, looking at you with a glint in her eye that you knew meant she was serious. “Kriff, you could save the whole galaxy with just a few strokes of a pen.”

You felt yourself conceding, even though you knew you had lost the argument the moment it had started. “You really think this could make any kind of difference?”

She took both of your hands in hers. “I know it could.”

Wordlessly, you shot her a final look that warned: whatever happens, it’s on you. She seemed to understand the meaning behind your stare and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Then I’ll do it.”

A pained gasp sounded in the room, and you couldn’t tell if it had come from you or Kylo.

The bond between the two of you snapped as Kylo stood abruptly, stumbling over the chair behind him. He looked like he had been physically hurt, breathing heavily and holding onto the wall with one hand for balance.

Your eyes were wide and your heart pounded in your chest as you realized the gravity of what had just taken place.

“Oh no, no, no — Kylo please,” you stood, moving towards his heaving form. “It’s not… It’s not like that anymore.”

He slowly looked up, breathing harshly through his nose. His mouth was pulled taut and his chin quivered menacingly. His whole body radiated pure, oppressive anger. But meeting his gaze, you noticed his eyes revealed a different emotion: they were devastated.

He spoke slowly and deliberately. “It’s not like what?”

You stuttered, trying to explain the strange turn of events that made you help the Resistance, and the even stranger events that made you stop helping them. “I’m not a part of that — ever since I found out about my brother — what my parents, what the Resistance, did to him... “

Kylo interrupted you, speaking through teeth clenched so tightly, you thought they would shatter.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time? Everything you said, about helping me... That was all so you could find out the Order’s next plans?”

You looked at your feet guiltily. You thought about lying to him, but knew it was no use. You owed it to him to be honest. “I- I was,” you revealed. “But not anymore. Our connection, the Force, it changed everything. You saw what happened on Lothal. Working for my mother, the Resistance; that isn’t a life I wanted.”

He was barely listening to you now, instead choosing to pace back and forth across the floor of the room. “Everything I told you, showed you… How could I be so blind?”

You reached out to him, attempting to still his frustrated strides. “No, please, Kylo. I’m telling the tru-”

He suddenly did something you had never seen him do before, not even when you first arrived on the Finalizer. He powered on his lightsaber and aimed it directly at you.

You tried to remain calm while slowly stepping back against the wall, keeping your eyes trained on his, rather than the fiery beam of light at your neck.

“Please Kylo, I was wrong before. I don’t agree with a lot of the things that happen on this ship, you know that. But you were the first person I’d ever met who was honest with me. My parents lied to me my whole life, and because of those lies, I lied to you. That was wrong — I know that now. You’ve never been scared of who I am, both the crazy artist and the Force-wielder. Just like how I can see you for who you truly are. Not like the others on this ship… They’re scared of you.”

Hearing that, he held the lightsaber closer to your throat, its heat burning against your neck inches away from your skin.

“And what about you, are you scared of me?”

The lightsaber was now grazing your skin, its red-hot sparks making you flinch in pain.

“I wasn’t,” you said quietly, barely a whisper. “Not until now.”

An image suddenly flashed across your mind, a memory: An older man in brown robes stood over a young boy, eyes wild, preparing to swing a green lightsaber through his body. The image was blurry, but you saw the boy’s eyes open as he turned to face the green glow of the lightsaber, his body frozen in a state of complete fear. You recognized those eyes instantly. As the lightsaber swung towards the boy, the vision disappeared.

You inhaled sharply as Kylo violently ripped his saber away from your body, affected by the vision you both witnessed. Instead, he opted for slicing through the nearest communication stations. You ducked as sparks flew from his saber. Seemingly dissatisfied by the destruction, he punched his own fist into a nearby wall.

“I trusted you,” he spoke in a deep, growling voice that would’ve been terrifying if not for the crack on the last word.

“Kylo, please,” you begged. “Look at me. Look into my mind.” You paused. “I- I’m asking you to.”

His posture shifted slightly, but his harsh voice remained the same. “What?”

“I have nothing to hide now. Look: see that I’ve changed, see that I don’t serve them anymore.”

With no hesitation, he rushed in front of you, putting a hand in front of your head. You shrunk back slightly, startled by his sudden approach, but maintained eye contact to show your willingness to let him in. Surprisingly, his probing wasn’t harsh; It was sporadic instead. Crackling tendrils whipped through memories, ones you hadn’t shown anyone before.

You watched as glimpses of your past danced behind your eyes for the second time that day. You found yourself painting with your father on the dirt floor of your house on Lothal. You watched as you waved goodbye to your brother from the kitchen window, not knowing it would be the last time you ever saw him. You saw yourself meet Kylo for the first time, confused by the tingling at the back of your neck, the one you initially mistook for a rogue bug. You remembered him threatening you, holding you against the wall as he attempted to read your mind. Your visions then brought you to Dantooine, to the moment when Kylo saved you from attackers and carried you through the woods. The scenery transformed back to the Finalizer and you watched your friendships develop, the echoes of their laughs surrounding the air around you. You observed the moment you discovered the true story behind your brother’s death, right in the same room you and Kylo were in now. That was the moment everything had changed. The rest of the images flew by in a blur: Lothal, your father, a blaster bolt. A bird briefly appeared, dipping into the depths of your mind before dissolving as the sounds of a lively birthday party filled your head. Feelings of warmth, love, and hope for the future invaded your senses, only to be stopped by a black wall.

You gasped, Kylo’s hold on your mind finally releasing. He seemed stunned for a moment, meeting your tear-filled eyes with his hazel ones in a final moment of vulnerability, before straightening his posture and putting back on his gloves. When his face turned back to yours, it was as if he was looking right through you.

“I want you gone by the night.”

Your tears fell freely now, plummeting in silent drops to the floor. You hated seeing him like this. Despite you being able to see each feature of his face, it felt like he was still wearing his mask. “Kylo-”

He took a step closer, trapping you against the wall with his arms on either side of you.

“Or I turn you in to Snoke myself.”

So that’s what his name was.

By the time the thought fully processed, Kylo was gone.

Gazing at your reflection in the star-speckled window, you realized that you were wrong before:

You weren’t following the will-o’-the-wisp...

You were the will-o’-the-wisp.

———————————————

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dfhkala · 3 years

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So I switched the multipliers

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dessarious · 5 years

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Broken Harmony Pt13

Okay here it is as promised!

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Damian felt more at peace than he could ever remember. Physically he wasn’t comfortable at all; sitting against the wall on Marinette's chaise lounge while she used him for a pillow. But a little discomfort was a small price to pay for his Angel’s song to be happy again. They still had a long way to go but he’d take any progress toward healing that he could. Despite the position he was in Damian began to fall asleep until he heard a loud thud from above him. He tensed and the worry in his song cause Marinette to stir.

“Angel, there’s something on the roof.” He kept his volume as low as he could manage but she seemed to hear him. She lifted her head and stared at him in confusion. “Listen.” He pointed up. Just then they heard footsteps.

He expected worry or fear to come through the bond. Instead all that showed up was annoyance. She groaned and buried her head in his shoulder. Damian had no idea how to react to that so he didn’t move.

There was a tap at the skylight and Marinette’s annoyance increased but she didn’t move. A pause, then more tapping, louder this time. His Angel turned to glare at the skylight.

“Go away Chat.” Her voice was rough from sleep. Damian’s confusion must have finally registered with her because she shot him an apologetic look.

“Is that anyway to greet your knight in shining leather?” The voice sounded slightly putout but mostly smug. He hated it instantly.

“You’re not my anything Chat. Go away, I’m trying to go back to sleep.” Damian was about to add his own two cents when Marinette covered his mouth with her hand and mouthed, “I’ll explain once he’s gone.” There was nothing in her song to indicate deceit or anything else he should be concerned about so he nodded.

“No can do Princess, we need to talk.” Damian felt her annoyance spike at the nickname and frustration was building as well.

“No we don’t. I need to sleep. Whatever lecture you have prepared or fit you want to throw about Ladybug can wait.” They heard him tug on the skylight but it was locked. Damian felt his temper rising. How dare he try to enter his Angel’s room after she repeatedly told him to leave. Who the hell was this ‘Chat’?

“Either let me in or I’ll let myself in. I’m not going to let you get away with this.” Damian’s anger was overridden by Marinette’s confusion. She didn’t reply, not that he gave her time to. “Cataclysm.” Her eyes widened and she jumped off the chaise.

“Chat don’t you dare!” But it was too late. Her skylight disintegrated as they watched and a boy clad in a black leather jumpsuit dropped into the room. There was still no fear as she faced him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Have you lost your mind? Even with the way you’ve been acting lately I never thought you’d stoop to this.”

“Come on Princess, just because you’re pouting and feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. Besides, as soon as Ladybug casts her next Miraculous Cure the skylight will be back good as new.”

“Great. In the meantime if it rains my room will flood. I’ve always wanted a swimming pool.” Sarcasm was not something Damian expected but it suited her somehow.

“Stop making a big deal over nothing. I know you have a way to contact Ladybug so I’m sure you can get her to fix it right away.”

“So that’s supposed to make things okay? Chat, you used your powers to break into my room. Do you really not see the problem in this?” Wait… this idiot was one of the heroes she’d told him about?

“Then you should have let me in. Or better yet not pulled this stupid power-play for attention.” Damian wanted so badly to throttle this entitled Catwoman wanna be, but Marinette made a hand gesture behind her back telling him to calm down. The moron in leather hadn’t even noticed he was there yet. Some hero.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but let me make something very clear to you. A person has the right to privacy and to decide who they let in their homes. You have no right to break into my home for any reason so get out.” Both her tone and song were like steel. It made him sit up straighter and it wasn’t even aimed at him.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to enroll back in school.”

“How do you even know about that? You know what I don’t care. You have no say in my life or decisions. My parents and I are making decisions that are best for me and if you have a problem with that, too bad.”

“You can’t just abandon your friends Princess. If you would just stop antagonizing Lila everyone would like you again. Having your parents pull you out of school to get attention is just immature.”

“Don’t call her that! And those friends put her in the hospital today you arrogant piece of trash!” Damian had jumped up and would have introduced Chat to the floor but Marinette got between them too quickly.

“Who the hell is he?” Chat’s ears actually lay back on his head and his tail lashed behind him. Damian wasn’t sure what to make of it but almost laughed when Chat actually hissed at him.

“He was invited and that’s all you need to know. And you’re daring to call me immature? After all the crap you pull. After sitting out on Akuma attacks because you can’t take no for an answer and throw a fit like a toddler? After you broke into my house because I did something you didn’t like?” Damian felt rage building with every word and it took him a minute to realize it wasn’t his. He honestly almost felt sorry for the Furry.

“I’ve explained why I’ve been staying away from Akuma fights.” He actually rolled his eyes.

“Then what is the point of you even having a Miraculous if you’re just going to cower in the shadows while your partner does all the work?” Chat let out an angry hiss. Marinette just scoffed at him. “Don’t try that nonsense with me. I’m over your entitled tantrums and self involved idiocy. Now get out of my house!”

Chat started to reach for her and Damian finally lost his temper. Bad enough that he did it at all but given her injuries he could hurt her even worse. He stepped between them and shoved Chat away from his Angel.

“Touch her and you’ll learn what real pain is.” His voice was low and dangerous. Anyone with half a brain would take that warning seriously. So, obviously, Chat didn’t. Instead he puffed out his chest and tried to move around him.

“You can’t tell me not to touch my Princess. You just met her today but I’ve known her for years.” He felt his hackles rise. There was no way he should know that. He could feel Marinette’s wariness through the bond as well but all she showed was anger.

“Are you stalking me now Chat Noir? You seem to have a lot of information about me that you shouldn’t.” Chat kept trying to move around Damian but both her and Marinette just kept shifting away from him. Damian could almost feel his frustration building. “Keep this up and I will call Ladybug and ask her to drag you out of here.”

“As if she could. I’m more than a match for M’Lady.” Damian felt Marinette’s anger spike and put up an arm fearing she might actually try to go after him in her condition.

“I guess we’re about to find out if that’s true.” Damian’s confusion was mirrored on Chat’s face a moment before Marinette pulled open the trapdoor and practically dove through it. Chat tried to follow but Damian went for his legs and tackled him. There wasn’t much space but he managed to kick the door shut before wrestling Chat to the floor. Damian almost had him pinned when he was distracted by the bond. He suddenly felt Marinette above rather than below them. Chat pushed him off and jumped to his feet.

“Cataclysm!” Damian tried to back up, knowing what had happened to the skylight, but he wasn’t fast enough. He was surprised when Chat just scratched him instead. Apparently Chat was too judging by the look on his face. Then he heard a noise that reminded him of his grappling hook and chat was yanked away from him.

“Forgot you used your power already did you?” The cold fury in the voice coming through the skylight matched the song in his head. He watched as another hero dropped in holding the end of what looked like a yo-yo and just stared. When she met his gaze her look and the song softened. If that wasn’t enough for him to figure out she was his Angel, her blood filled iris and split lip would be. She looked at the cuts on his arm and her expression hardened once again. “Have you completely lost your mind Chat? There is absolutely no excuse for this!”

“Look I don’t know what Marinette cried to you about but I didn’t do anything wrong.” Seriously? How could this idiot not tell they were the same person when they had the exact same injuries? Before he could get further into that thought fury exploded in his head.

“So you didn’t use your powers to break in here after she denied you entry?” He tried to sputter out a defense but she just steamrolled over him. “And it wasn’t you I just stopped from attacking a civilian who was doing nothing but trying to protect his soulmate?”

“That’s ridiculous. Mari doesn’t have a soulmate, she just made that up for attention.” Before Ladybug could form a retort they all heard a beeping sound. Damian realized he’d heard it a few times since Chat had entered the room. “Well, I hate to cut this short but it looks like you have to let me go unless you want to compromise my identity.” He sounded smug and it took everything Damian had not to punch him in the face.

“It doesn’t matter if I know who you are Chat.” He looked happy at that statement though Damian couldn’t figure out why. Her next word erased it though. “You have proven over and over again that you are not worth of a Miraculous. As of now I’m stripping you of your ring. You will no longer be Chat Noir, and will no longer be able to abuse your powers for selfish endeavors.” The longer she talked the more Chat struggled against the string holding him. Damian could feel Marinette’s pain through the bond as his pulling put pressure on her injuries. His soulmate was being hurt so he felt completely justified when he punched Chat in the nose, tripped him and held him down on the floor so he couldn’t struggle.

“You can’t do this! I was chosen, we belong together!” Damian felt more than heard Ladybug sigh. She put her hand on Damian’s shoulder as he raised his hand to hit him again. Shaking her head she moved to where Chat could see her.

“I am the Guardian of the Miraculous.” Damian felt power in her words and even Chat flinched. “And I have judged you unworthy. Your opinions on our partnership are irrelevant. I’ve told you over and over again that I have a soulmate and even if I didn’t I wouldn’t want to be involved with you. Your failure to accept that or take my feelings into account in anyway are just one more reason you don’t deserve the power you were given.”

At that moment his transformation dropped. Damian cursed and he felt Marinette's song go from shock to resignation. Adrien Agrest was pinned below him and his need to beat the crap out of him only increased.

“I should have known.” Ladybug stood and took a deep breath. “Adrien Agrest, you’ve ceased to be a hero with or without the mask a long time ago. Honestly, this decision is long overdue.” She reached for his hand and he started struggling harder. Damian easily subdued him and pinned his arm for Ladybug. She gave him a grateful smile before taking a ring from the boys finger.

“Plagg.” Damian’s year of dealing with villains and other heroes was the only thing that kept him mouth from dropping open as a tiny black creature came out of the ring and flew in front of her face. “Do you agree with my decision?”

“Absolutely bug. He’s had more than enough chances from all of us.” The voice was cold showing no mercy. “He knows enough to be a problem in the future, do you want me to use Cataclysm on him?” Ladybug looked completely shocked at the idea, but Damian honestly was all for it.

“No.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I will not resort to murder and given the fact that he’s only ever been interested in himself and we’ve been careful to keep information from him I don’t think he’ll be too big of a problem without a Miraculous.” Plagg looked disappointed.

“Fine but this is necessary.” Before she could get a word out the being flew into Adrien’s head. The boy immediately passed out and Plagg resurfaced a minute later.

“What did you do?”

“I wiped some of his memory. You may not think he knows enough to cause damage but we both know that he will be Akumatized over this. There are enough clues from today for Hawkmoth to figure out who you are.” She nodded slowly but frowned.

“How much did you erase?”

“Anywhere from five days to five weeks.”

“Plagg!”

“What?” He sounded offended. “It’s not an exact science and I needed to make sure all of today was gone. It’s bad enough that he’ll see that video again eventually.” She let out a sigh and ran her uninjured hand over her face. Damian suddenly saw how exhausted she looked.

“Damian, you can get off him now.” He started as he realized he was still pinning the unconscious former hero. He rose to stand in front of her.

“Angel…” She shook her head and put a hand on his chest.

“I don’t know how long he’s going to be out for and I need to get him home before he wakes. It won’t take more than twenty minutes and we’ll talk when I get back.”

“What about your injuries? Are you sure you can lift him by yourself?” She nodded and he just scowled at her. “Fine, but we’re not talking when you get back. You need sleep we can talk tomorrow.” Tears filled her eyes and he started to panic before she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for caring about me. I promise everything will be alright.” As she bent to retrieve the boy on the floor, Damian noticed the little black creature staring at him with a considering look before he spoke to Ladybug.

“I’ll go with you and show you how to avoid the cameras.”

“Thanks Plagg.” She looked down at Damian’s arm and cursed. He had completely forgotten about the scratches. “Miraculous Ladybug.” He looked at her in confusion that turn to awe as everything in the room was fixed, including the skylight and his arm. “We’ll be right back.” She smiled at him as she jumped up through the skylight.

Damian was left alone in the room and now that he had time to process his brain basically stopped working. What the hell had just happened?

Master List 1 Master List 2 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Tag list for Broken Harmony

Thanks for all the positive responses! Here’s the tag list I’ve go so far. If I missed anyone let me know.

@crazylittlemunchkin @iggy-of-fans @captainmac6 @shizukiryuu @origami-dreams @yamadochie @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @mjisntme @zebrabaker @driftingmoonlitpetals @slytherinhquinn @politelyvicious @mystery-5-5 @constancetruggle @synnesstra @im-here-for-the-content @slytherinsheashire @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @cyborgcandy @rhub4rb @satans-favorite-homo @beautym3 @ayuchan07 @zalladane @moonlitarchangels @mooshoon @mindfulmagics @saphiraazure2708 @chrismarium @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tog84 @littleredrobinhoodlum @cupcakeandkisses @kiara-rose-blackthorn @moonlitarchangels @graduatedmelon @lunar-wolf-warrior @tbehartoo @zoerayne2426 @ellerahs @heaven428 @my-name-is-michell @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @myownworldstayout @alexzandria-747 @k-rena-k @vivilakitty @redscarlet95 @un1cornf1ghter @bookreader20003 @nataladriana9 @resignedcatservant @blue-peach14 @royalchaoticfangirl @melicmusicmagic @dani-ari @captain-rice @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @fiendsangelical @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @ladylb @vixen-uchiha @spicybelladonna @asteriodd @thatrandomfandomsgirl @laurakinneylance @casual-darkness @sam-spectra @romanoff-queen

#maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne

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introvert-no-chameleon · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Monstrous Consequences

I almost forgot to put the text version on Tumblr!

Here’s chapter 2 of Of Monsters and McGuckets. The next chapter will probably be a big one, since I have a better idea where the story is going now, so it might take longer than just a couple of days for me to write and edit.

Don’t worry, folks. I fully plan on seeing this fic through.

Chapter 1 on Tumblr, if you don’t use/like Archive of Our Own.

Fiddleford usually made a point to ignore the way the Pines brothers acted on the rare occasions where they all shared a meal, despite the offense it was to his Southern upbringing. His Ma would’ve slapped him across the head if he didn’t chew with his mouth closed or say grace before every meal (a habit he kept even long after he stopped going to church).

He’d hate to imagine what she’d do if he ever ate like his two housemates. Stanley paid as much mind to table manners as he did the law, which was none. Sometimes he’d chew with his mouth open just to tick Fiddleford off, and even go as far as putting his muddy boots on the table if he really wanted to get a rise out of his boyfriend. On the other end of the spectrum sat Stanford, who either inhaled his food in a hurry to get back to his research or left it on his plate until it got too cold to eat while he made field notes.

Yet even those memories were not nearly as bad as the scene unfolding in front of him. Stanford had his paws splayed on the table, his face shoved on to his plate. Egg and grease smeared all over his mouth, and Stanford didn’t seem to notice. The silverware lay unused next to Stanford’s plate, jingling whenever he shifted to get a better angle.

Fiddleford held the edge of the table in a death grip to prevent his employer from tipping it over, and only for that reason. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting very uncomfortable staring at those large, powerful jaws rip into his bacon with a growl, while he held it in place with one paw, like a lion would, he imagined, tear into a dead gazelle. Nor did it have anything to do with the earlier, far too casual comment about Stanford wanting to maul things.

Not at all. If Fiddleford happened to take a big gulp of coffee that felt like tar coming down his throat, that was just because of something else.

He took a chance to see how Stanley was doing. His boyfriend poked at his food with the edge of a claw, and Fiddleford wondered if he could even eat, or if he needed to in this form. Just as he meant to ask, Stan chewed his bacon, shrugged, tipped the contents inside his mouth, and swallowed his entire breakfast and the ceramic plate with a loud crunch. And burped afterward.

Fiddleford quietly sipped the rest of his coffee for the remainder of the meal and made a note to avoid eating with them until they got turned back to normal.

After the ordeal that was breakfast, they finally began retracing their steps to the lake. The woods in Gravity Falls managed to have an underlying, buzzing energy to it. It felt as if everything, even the trees themselves, were teeming with life, a fact that used to fill Fiddleford with wonderment. However, as he became aware of the fact that not everything in the forest was as keen as respecting sentient life as he was, that excitement got replaced by the kind of dread that settled heavy on his shoulders and wouldn't be shaken off until he was back in the safety of their home.

Stanford was excitedly talking about the notes he’d just made as they walked. Even with his ever-present anxiety, Fiddleford still found himself listening to what little they knew of their most recent discovery.

“I’ve decided to call the mysterious liquid in the lake Fluvius Cantatis,” said Stanford, ducking under a branch. “Judging by the fact that I saw a few deer drink from the lake and suffer no outward symptoms, I’m guessing the water only affects humans.”

Stanley walked right through the branch, snapping it by just walking into it. The man didn’t flinch. Heck, Fiddleford would be surprised if he’d noticed it.

“That’s mighty interestin’,” said Fiddleford. “Perhaps the water’s been enchanted? Or…cursed?” He shuddered at the thought. If exploring Gravity Falls had taught him anything, it was that curses were stubborn, tricky things that weren’t dealt with so easily.

“Both are a possibility,” said Stanford, nonplussed. “If it was, indeed, enchanted, then there’s a good chance that we may be able to figure it out with some study. I’ve learned a few spells from the walls of that cavern we explored while finding Mothman, so it may help us get back to normal.”

“I sure hope so,” said Fiddleford. “There ain’t no tellin’ what might happen if ya stay like this too long.”

“Yeah, like how I’m going to use the toilet when I’m a giant rock,” said Stanley with a smirk.

Stanford rolled his eyes and continued forward.

“Don’t be crude, Stanley,” said Fiddleford.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He noticed Fiddleford adjust his backpack for the third time in the last minute. “You, uh, need help there, Fidds?”

“If yer careful,” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground. Now that he was free of the weight, his shoulders began to ache something awful. Fiddleford cracked his back as he straightened up, groaning. For the fourth time that week, he thought about finally getting around to making that appointment with the town chiropractor.

“Jeez, what’re you carrying in this thing?” Stanley picked up the pack and flipped the top open.

Inside were two pairs of thick rubber gloves, a few beakers wrapped in bubble wrap, metal tongues, a thermometer, glass jars with lids and an entire hazmat suit that Stanley had “borrowed” from some godforsaken government facility one night he and Stanford had gotten while drunk out of their minds. (Those were the only details he'd been given in regards to what went down that night, and after careful consideration, Fiddleford decided that it was probably for the best that it stayed that way).

Stanley raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “A bit much, dontcha think?”

Fiddleford huffed. “One of us has to be careful. That lake don’t sit right with me, an’ it’s better if one of us isn’t affected by whatever yer afflictions are.”

Stanley swung the backpack over one shoulder. “Relax, I’m pretty sure ya gotta bathe in this stuff for it to do anything. Me an’ Ford jumped right into it.”

“We don’t know that,” said Fiddleford. “An’ I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stanley cast a glance at his brother, who was walking ahead of them, focusing on re-discovering the path they’d went on yesterday. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Even with Stanley being as gentle as could be, the weight of his hand felt crushing. He sucked in a breath.

“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s okay. Yer just stronger than usual, s’all.”

Stanley’s joints made a grinding sound as he retracted his hand and let it fall by his side. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m right here whatever happens, alright? And uh,” He cleared his throat. “If Ford gets carried away, just let me know and I’ll wrestle him back to the shack with us if I haveta.”

“I-I may frighten easy, but there’s no need to be tip-toeing around me as if I’m some sorta newborn kitten.” He forced himself to fake what he’d hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

Stanley frowned, and Fiddleford didn’t need a magic spell to know that the man disagreed. “Look, Fidds. I guess we haven’t really talked about this, an’ this might not be the best place to have this conversation, but…I can’t help but notice you’ve been more on edge lately.”

The way he said those things made the Southern man bristle. He crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.” Fiddleford’s tone was about as inviting as a grizzly bear in a picnic. “Whatever happened to me bein’ more assertive?”

“Hey, I meant that. But…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. The friction made a grinding sound that only served to worsen Fiddleford’s nerves. “Fidds. Come on. You jump outta your seat if you so much as see a gnome—”

“Those little devils kidnapped me, if ya haven’t forgotten!”

Stanley winced, probably remembering the “Gnome Incident”, as they all called it. It was a sore subject for Fiddleford. Not only did he get mistaken for a woman, but he also ended up getting dragged halfway through the forest by an army of small but astonishingly strong men while tied up like a hog. When Stanley and Stanford came to help after at least a half-hour of humiliation, they’d gotten so many bite marks and bruises from the whole rescue mission that they’d almost considered going to the hospital. The remaining shred of their dignities had been the only reason they hadn’t.

As if that all hadn’t been bad enough, the ropes had left some nasty cuts on Fiddleford’s wrists and ankles. It took weeks for them to heal, and to this day Stanley would still punt away any gnomes that were unfortunate enough to be in Fiddleford’s vicinity.

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ve just been more jumpy, and…” Stanley seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He was squirming where he stood.

In other circumstances, Fiddleford wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Stan was being more open with his emotions, and that wasn’t easy for him. The young scientist just wished it hadn’t been this particular subject he’d decided to be open about. “An’ what?”

“Look, I’m getting’ kinda worried. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack this mornin’ when we came to the shack.”

Fiddleford set his jaw. “Is that what this mornin’ was? Ya thought that I’d still have my tail stuck between mah legs even after I knew it was you?” He hadn’t expected his anxiety to be so obvious, and now that he knew it was, it was like having someone tear his clothes off in the middle of the town. “Well, excuse me for exercisin’ some caution!”

Stan raised his hands at him, defensively. “Hey, that ain’t what I meant.”

Fiddleford squared his shoulders. “You think that just ‘cause I’m not as well-adjusted to this town’s strangeness as the two of ya, I should just stay inside and have my nose in a book or tinkerin’ away while ya and yer brother do all the dangerous work!”

In actuality, the thought of him doing just that appealed to him greatly, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’ll have ya know, I’m an inventor! I’ve made things that could fry a man in two flicks of a lamb’s tail!”

Stanley’s brows furrowed. “I have…no idea what that means.”

“It means, Stanley, that I ain’t some dainty thing that ya need to protect. I’m a grown man with a son of mine own, and I’m more than capable of lookin’ after myself!”

“Fidds, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But Fiddleford had stomped past Stanley, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He caught up with Stanford, who had just came across a couple of bushes that Fiddleford assumed concealed the entrance to the lake.

“Ah, perfect,” said Stanford, blissfully unaware of the tension between Fiddleford and Stanley (business as usual, then). “It’s right past here. Allow Stanley and I to go first. After all, we have already been exposed, and there’s—”

That was it. Fiddleford walked ahead, ignoring whatever was about to come out of Stanford’s mouth. Which was not, he quickly realized, an intelligent thing to do, as his next step sent him sliding down a steep dirt slope that had no business being there.

The twins called his name somewhere behind him, but it was too late. He was tumbling down, the world a blur of browns and greens. He inhaled some dirt and coughed in a vain attempt to clear his burning lungs. Just as he thought he’d be doing this forever, he splashed into a body of knee-deep water and stopped moving.

And now there he was, on his hands and knees, looking like a right fool, in front of his boss and boyfriend, no less. He sighed, bringing a shaky hand to his face, staring down at his reflection. The water had a strange purple hue. Wasn’t that just his luck that he wiped his face with water that had probably been contaminated or—

“Oh,” he said, staring at his palms. The skin began to tingle, glowing with a soft purple light. “Shit.”

A headache that felt as if the Devil Himself had just driven spikes into Fiddleford’s head had him doubling over. The pain was strongest on the left and right sides of his skull. His legs ached, and his feet felt numb. He watched with detached, morbid fascination as they broke through his shoes and got longer, until he was staring, slack-jawed at a set of rabbit feet. He wiggled the toes, his brain still struggling to process his new, horrifying reality.

The entire bottom half of him was part hare, tufts of chestnut brown fur poking out of the waistline of his now torn-up pants. He tried standing up, gasping as his head swung back, heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He quickly held it in place with his (thank goodness!) human hands. Licking his lips, he brought his hands up to the top of his head. His fingers caressed what felt an awful lot like two large antlers, and a pair of rabbit ears.

A jackalope. He was a jackalope.

Of all the things, of all the mythological creatures in all of existence, he was a goddamn hare with antlers, because life had decided that Fiddleford McGucket hadn’t suffered enough today. The only solace he found was the fact that his face was still human, if the reflection of the lake was anything to go by, which was at least something. He’d probably drown himself right then and there if he had a rabbit nose or some other nonsense like that.

Fiddleford dragged himself out of the lake. The water didn’t drip or fall off his skin. Instead, his body seemed to absorb it. That wasn’t worrying at all.

“Fidds, are you okay? Shit, hold on, I’m almost there!”

Stanley skid down the slope and ran towards him. His wings were raised off the ground so he could run without tripping over them, and his eyes glowed more intensely than he’d seen them yet. Stanford wasn’t far behind, his wings occasionally flapping to help him keep his balance.

The usual sense of relief he’d get whenever Stanley came to his aid was, to his increasing concern, being overrun by something else. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside of him, activating a strong, fight-or-flight instinct that Fiddleford couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his mind didn’t see Stanley Pines, his beloved partner, and Stanford Pines, his good friend and employer. All he could take in were teeth and jaws and claws that could gut a creature like himself in seconds. This new instinct was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had, his throat tightening, his breathing labored, his head throbbing, seemingly taking over his own body, which began to move as if on its own accord.

He ran back in the woods, getting as far away from Stanley as his legs would carry him, which turned out to be incredibly far, incredibly fast. His heart thumped against his chest as he kept moving forward, crashing through bushes, any coherent thought was far gone, replaced with the need to get away now.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d have noticed Stanley’s big, heartbroken eyes on his back until he was out of sight, swallowed up by Gravity Falls’ forest.

Stanford caught up to Stanley just as the latter watched his boyfriend run into the forest at a pace that would almost put Stan’s car to shame. He’d barely seen what Fiddleford had turned into after falling into the lake, but whatever it was looked like some weird bunny-thing that probably had little to no way to defend itself. Well, he guessed running like hell was a damn good way to defend oneself. Couldn’t argue with the results.

“Great.” Stanley held his head. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

“That could have gone better,” said Stanford.

“You decide to become Captain Obvious today or somethin’?” snapped Stanley. He gestured towards the direction Fiddleford went. “How the fuck are we gonna find him?”

“Calm down, Stan. I have a plan.” Ford pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you remember those microchips that Fiddleford made?”

Stanley stared at his brother as if he’d just started speaking another language. “Sixer, this ain’t time for your nerd talk, Fidds could get eaten by a mountain lion or bear if we don’t do somethin’!”

Ford glared at him. “This is why I’m bringing it up. Fiddleford it to help us track each other in the case that one of us gets abducted again.” Ford rummaged through the knapsack he always brought with him and pulled out a clunky metal remote with a glass screen. He turned it on. “Aha!”

“What?”

“It’s working magnificently! Fiddleford will be pleased to know that the remote has no problems picking up his signal.”

Stan loved his brother, he really did, but it was shit like his brother managing to be excited about some science gizmo while his friend was hopping around the woods in a panic that really tested his patience. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d also love to be alive to talk about it, so why don’t ya shut yer yap for five seconds so we can get him?”

Ford huffed. He stared back down at the screen. “He’s going towards the middle of the forest, so at least he isn’t near any caves.” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “We need to move. He’s coming across Manotaur territory.”

Stanley swore. “Then let’s go already!”

“Stan, you’re slower like this. You should let me—”

“Oh, hell no, Pointdexter. I’m not waitin’ here while you go off after him. He’s gonna freak out if he sees you alone.”

Ford opened his mouth, saw the expression that Stan had on his face, and let whatever stupid thing he was going to tell Stan, die. “Fine but try not to lose me. I’m going to have to…” He sighed. “Run on four legs.”

Even in his state of mind, Stanley couldn’t resist grinning. “Maybe this situation isn’t all bad.”

Ford took off his boot and threw it at his brother. It bounced off him. Stan didn’t even feel it.

“Fiddleford better be grateful for this,” muttered Ford as he freed himself of his other shoe and began to—there was no other word for it—gallop in the direction Fiddleford went.

Filing the mental image of his brother running around like a giant housecat for later, Stan lumbered behind him. He was determined to keep up, not wanting to waste more time.

#of monsters and mcguckets #fiddlestan #mystery trio #mystery trio au #monster falls #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #young fiddleford #young stanley pines #young stanford pines #young stan bros #gargoyle!stan #sphinx!ford #jackalope!fiddleford #archive of our own #my writing

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