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casspurrjoybell-18 · 1 year

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Mutual Desire - Chapter 26

*Warning - Adult Content*

Alexander Nabokov and Damien Clark rose from their chairs in synchronization, eyes locked.

Damien captured a last look at the breathtaking view with a dreamy smile.

"I would have brought my camera if I knew I'd have such a view," Damien couldn't refrain from saying.

He had muttered these words while sustaining his contemplation of the scene in front of him.

He really regretted being unable to engrave this amazing scenery in a photo.

"Take a picture with your phone," Nabokov suggested, as if he was reading Damien's mind.

Although the Russian spoke to him, Damien didn't look away to observe him.

He maintained his attention on the tall, illuminated Manhattan buildings.

For once, he didn't need to bend his head to escape the man's greyish stare.

He had this scene in front of him that served him as an excellent cover up so as to not cross the wealthy man's eyes.

"Nah, my phone wouldn't do this view justice," Damien spoke vaguely.

He stared eagerly at the lovely sight for a few more seconds in a strangely endurable silence.

Then, he turned his head slowly, thinking of surprising Nabokov in the act of looking longingly at him but unexpectedly discovered the man also enjoying the view.

Damien then exploited Nabokov's inattention to inspect subtly the man.

Grey-Eyes was impeccably dressed in a white shirt with a blue tie and dark blue classic trousers.

His attractive face radiated as it was expected.

This man was a model without even wanting it.

It was no longer the view Damien wanted to memorize in pictures.

The view was already a thing of the past when Damien thoroughly analyzed Nabokov for the first time in the evening.

Damien's examination of the Russian soon came to an end when Nabokov's intent gaze suddenly fell on Damien, apprehending him in the shameful act of eyes-stalking.

Damien turned his head as fast as his muscles allowed it, while his cheeks quickly changed color.

He was mentally praying Nabokov wouldn't invoke this completely uncomfortable short moment in which he had been caught in the act.

"Are we making a move?" Nabokov politely asked.

Damien sighed mentally, barely nodding his head and started walking smoothly, while Nabokov joined him shortly thereafter, both of them walking side by side. Damien lowered his head slightly as his body instinctively distanced himself from Nabokov.

A grand space was then formed between them.

"Do I smell?"

This odd question inadvertently caused Damien's head to toss back hastily towards Nabokov, his expression swimming in confusion.

"What?" he exclaimed softly.

Damien was uncertain of having heard correctly.

With Nabokov next to him, it wasn't impossible his nervousness played tricks on him and caused him to imagine hearing things.

"You put a big distance between us, so I was wondering if it was because I stink," Nabokov answered, the impassiveness on his face naturally making it hard for Damien to figure whether he was serious or not.

A nervous chuckle escaped Damien, and he lowered his head again.

"No, it's not because of that."

Nabokov was quite perceptive, spotting the most minor detail.

He had been capable of noticing the gap between them, which wasn't as big as the man made it seemed.

"Oh. So, I do stink but that's not the reason," Nabokov said soothingly with a barely visible smile.

Damien laughed softly, his gaze directed forward.

"I mean it's not done intentionally," Damien explained smilingly.

It wasn't indeed intentional on Damien's part.

Nabokov was a man with an imposing posture and an aura exuding the very danger.

It was only Damien's protective instinct that automatically created that space between them.

"Oh. I see."

Expected silence came back and Damien took a risk by shooting a subtle glance at Nabokov, who was looking in front of him.

Damien saw Nabokov's faint smile with a mocking glint in his eyes, which gave him the hint that Nabokov was simply messing with you.

"You're shitting me. You know how amazingly good you smell," he says jovially.

As soon as these words were said, Damien regretted the odd way they had gone out.

Nabokov raised an eyebrow, his delighted grin remaining intact.

"Amazingly good?" The Russian repeated.

Damien lowered his head, cursing his impulsive mouth.

He decided not to say anything anymore, judging to have spoken enough.

Perhaps it was best to stay silent for the remaining time he was going to spend with Nabokov, which for Damien wished wouldn't be much time since he knew his heart beat wouldn't be able to bear it.

"Thank you. I think you smell amazingly good too," Nabokov complimented him back.

Damien looked up at Nabokov and rolled his eyes slowly with a smile on his lips.

They walked in silence, the distance narrowing, their arms almost touching.

"If one day you feel like coming back here to look at the view, just tell me and I'll give you the key," Nabokov said, breaking the short silence.

Damien was surprised by this offer.

He didn't expect it and didn't know what to think of it or what to say.

He had to be sure Nabokov was actually serious to begin with and that it wasn't a joke.

Damien would never have thought that this word would ever be associated with Nabokov.

He realized he was, day by day, learning surprising details about Nabokov.

For one, the man wasn't a homophobic as Damien once believed so firmly.

And two, he was a pretty perceptive guy.

"Uh... thanks, but, you don't have to do all that."

It wasn't the answer Damien had wanted to give but it was the one that seemed to be the most adequate to his delicate situation.

He could no longer allow himself to go ahead and accept gifts from Nabokov, his best friend's boss.

This dinner they had just partaken in was, inappropriate to say the least and had no reason to be.

Damien himself knew it better than anyone.

"What if I set up a table filled with cheesecakes, would you change your mind?"

Damien joyfully welcomed this pleasant idea with a cheerful smile.

This conversation was going well, all too well, which meant it was going to go sour as it inevitably always does.

"I would think about that, that's for sure," Damien said, opening the door that had brought him on the roof.

They arrived in front of the elevator as silence returned.

Damien had no intention of prolonging the conversation.

He knew what he would embark on and the risks he would take if he did so.

He and Nabokov had some sort of curse that withheld them from engaging in a normal conversation without some tension taking over.

Besides, he had no clue what to actually discuss with Nabokov and how to even engage in a normal conversation with him.

The doors of the elevator opened and Nabokov gestured a hand, encouraging Damien to enter, which he does, followed by Nabokov.

The doors closed and Nabokov pressed the button on the seventeenth floor while the two men's reflection appeared prominently on the doors.

On the silver doors, Damien saw Nabokov take his phone from his pocket and start playing with it.

Then, Damien redirected his attention to the ceiling, so he could escape the view of his reflection and Nabokov's.

Damien had a sense of déjà vu.

He recalled the time he had found himself in an elevator with Grey-Eyes.

The similar tension and silence of that last time was presently there but much more intense.

The silence was so heavy that Damien himself was unable to bear it and he had no choice but to break that inaudible sound.

"Will the rest of the food be given to the homeless?" Damien questioned Nabokov, turning his head to look at him.

Damien Clark was incapable of finding a better approach to undo this icy silence than this lame one.

He took the first thing that appeared in his mind.

His damn brain was to blame for this completely random question.

Alexander Nabokov turned his attention away from his phone to deposit it on Damien, a shrug of an eyebrow giving a little emotion on his face.

"Yes, if that's what you want," the intimidating man responded in a tone that sounded uninterested.

They quickly exchanged glances before Damien jerked his head and then lowered it, his cheeks slowly turning red.

"Cool," Damien whispered, his eyes planted on the ground.

He regretted breaking the silence since it came back in no time and was way more awkward as if that was possible.

Then, he raised his head, falsely believing that Nabokov would still be on his phone.

But he was mistaken.

Damien saw Nabokov's gaze on him thanks to the elevator reflecting their figure.

He gradually turned to Nabokov, their eyes instantly connecting.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Damien was as surprised by his words as he was by the courage he possessed to sprout them out of his mouth.

"Apart from beauty, no, you have nothing on your face," Nabokov replied emotionlessly.

Damien opened his mouth slightly and closed it immediately.

He had no idea what to answer to that... compliment?

Though taken aback, he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips however.

Damien's grin wasn't because of what Nabokov's words but rather the intention behind. He saw right through the guy.

Nabokov was doing what he always does teasing and fucking with Damien.

"You enjoy making me uncomfortable, don't you?" Damien asked with a weak smile.

An all but innocent grin appeared on Nabokov's lips.

"What makes you say that?"

Damien didn't take time to reply.

"I don't like when someone answers a question with one."

Nabokov's grin widened and he narrowed his eyes.

"And why should I care about what you like, Damien?"

It was Damien's turn to smile almost maliciously and his eyes intensified.

"Then, how would you have succeeded in fully satisfy me in the limo if you don't care just a little about what I like?"

The audacity of his words surprised Damien himself but he revealed no such thing, keeping his smile and expression almost intact.

If he wanted a reaction out of Nabokov with those provoking words, then Damien succeeded because Nabokov's eyes darkened and his smirk added fuel to it.

"I don't think I need to know the things you like to satisfy you in bed, Damien," Nabokov said in a deep soothing voice.

Damien's smile weakened little by little as Nabokov's confident smile grew, clearly enjoying the unusual direction this conversation was taking.

"And I told you before I was rather authoritarian in bed, so I decide what you like," Nabokov added, his eyes cooling.

Damien's grin ultimately abandoned him as his brain recorded Nabokov's words.

He could no longer make a sound, much too troubled by what was being said at the moment.

All he could do was breath difficultly while being a spectator of the disaster his impulsive stupid mouth had created.

"But we're just talking here, it's not like it will happen anytime soon, right?"

Nabokov didn't give Damien time to respond.

"Since you're in a relationship and it's serious between you two," Nabokov quickly added.

Damien swallowed his saliva with difficulty, an expression of shame inhabiting his face but couldn't look away from ‘Grey Eyes’.

"Yes. It will never happen," Damien finally managed to say bitterly, his voice sounding like a whisper.

Damien felt fire in his dry throat and he suddenly felt trapped in that elevator and in this uncomfortable conversation that a man in a relationship shouldn't be having.

"Never?" Nabokov said, raising an eyebrow.

Damien's mouth was sealed.

He stared uneasily at Nabokov, unable to generate even a single word.

Yet the answer was easy, especially since he would only reconfirm his words.

But it was this glimmer of defiance in the Russian's gray eyes that blocked all the courage that Damien possessed.

That was what he was getting for provoking Nabokov, the last man that anyone would want to provoke.

Fortunately, the doors opened, providing Damien the means to escape this conversation that was beginning to consume him.

Unluckily, for him, Nabokov didn't move, his eyes not leaving Damien for a second, clearly waiting for an answer.

The doors closed and Damien had no choice but to give the wealthy man what he wanted.

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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Blueprint

Part of the Stray Wolves Series

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (SKZ)

Genre: Vampire AU; Werewolf AU; Forbidden Love AU; Prequel

Warnings: Graphic Smut; Explicit Language; Blood Drinking

Word Count: 8K

Summary: Y/N is tired of her werewolf pack dictating her choices, especially when they force her into an arranged marriage with a younger friend. In retaliation, Y/N sneaks out one night in direct defiance of her alpha’s orders, and she meets a mysterious vampire who allows her the first tempting taste of freedom...and she might just fall in love with him in the process.

A/N: This was supposed to be for Felix’s birthday, but I’ve got something else that I could release for him, so here ya’ go!!

Blueprint: “a detailed outline or plan of action: a blueprint for success.”

My life had always been dictated by the choices of others instead of my own. For example, when I turned 16 and endured my first painful heat, our pack alpha declared that I was finally ready to mate. It was a scary thought for me to process, and I begged my father not to force me into an arranged marriage.

However, he was stern in his handling of the situation, refusing to disobey his alpha, but more than willing to pair me with a much younger werewolf named Mark who wasn’t quite ready for the mating ceremony because he still hadn’t gone through his first rut. In hindsight, I knew that it was a logical compromise, but I was still upset because I didn’t want to mate with another wolf and have pups. Plus, Mark was one of my friends, and I was troubled by the thought of presenting myself to him.

It ignited a fierce passion deep inside of me, and I rebelled against my pack for the first time that night by escaping into the darkness of the forest when the moon was at its highest point. You see, our alpha had mandated a curfew for the pack omegas, but I defied his orders and considered the possibility of running beyond our defined borders and into the surrounding mountains. But as I paced alongside the river separating our territory from a rival pack, contemplating several life-changing choices, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t alone.

But it was when I first turned around to confront the stranger watching me from the trees that I experienced my first taste of regret for leaving the pack without informing another member. Because upon closer inspection, I realized that he was startling beautiful - peering at me with vibrant blue-colored eyes that were hidden beneath white, cascading hair. My wolf growled because I understood well enough that he was a vampire, and that made him a natural enemy of my people. Yet, the boy didn’t attack me like I feared; instead, he studied me carefully as if I was something particularly interesting.

“This is not your land, vampire,” I said, attempting to sound a lot more confident than I felt.

He smirked at my feeble attempt to stand up to him. “I have no land.”

I shivered at his tone. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve been banished from my coven,” he continued. “They gave me rogue status when I left.”

“Still, that doesn’t give you the right to be here!”

“I should think that you don’t really belong out here either,” he continued. “This forest holds many dangers.”

“You don’t know me,” I snarled.

“It’s a strange place for an unmated omega,” he continued while looking at my chest. “And you’re ready to carry pups.”

I gasped at his audacity, and I quickly covered myself with my hands. “Mind your own business!”

The vampire chuckled. “Relax, I have no plans to hurt you.” He swaggered forward with an unrivaled arrogance, leaning in to inhale against the side of my neck. “You do smell like something that I would enjoy playing with.”

I took a step back to create some distance between us. “I’m patrolling the border.”

“Alone?” he questioned. “I know your alpha, and he’s quite strict when it comes to his pack’s females. Actually, I’m surprised that you’re not already mated.”

“Who says that I want a mate?” I returned, sending him a challenging stare. “I’m not some pliant bitch who plans to open her legs for anyone!”

“Clearly,” he said, running his tongue across sharp fangs. “But you’ll learn to obey your pack leader, just like the other mindless pups who fall in line with the status quo.”

“Well, I’m not like those other wolves,” I insisted. “I can think for myself!”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up into his bangs. “Prove it to me.”

“What?” I asked, hesitating because I wasn’t sure how to handle his request.

“Show me that you won’t give in,” he said. “Do something that would demonstrate this defiance you have against your alpha.”

I growled because I despised the arrogance in his tone, reaching out for the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. It pleased me to see the vampire caught off-guard, and I quickly pressed my lips against his just to shock him even more. Still, I couldn’t help but grimace when the taste of him reminded me of copper, and I closed my eyes while shivering because of his cold skin. But I eventually pulled away after a moment, studying his expression with a smile. “See?” I said. “I’m not like the other wolves.”

The vampire took his time opening his own eyes, looking at me with a gaze that reminded me of the ocean. Then, he grabbed me by the shoulders before leaning down to kiss me again. However, this time it was my turn to be shocked, and I pulled away to gape at him. “That’s cute, little pup,” the vampire said. “Do you know what else would really make your alpha seethe?” I froze in place when his hand reached down to cup the heat between my legs. “Your alpha wants a good virgin wolf,” he continued. “Maybe you should be the one to decide who gets the honor of fucking this pussy for the first time.”

His words were crude, but they were nothing short of arousing, and I launched myself at the vampire and molded my lips to his, kissing him feverishly as my hips started to grind against the telling erection in his leather pants. But it was like an electric shock had amplified my senses, and despite the taboo nature of coupling myself with a vampire, I couldn’t deny that every part of me was begging for him. I didn’t even know his name, but he had managed to awaken a part of me that was determined to start making choices for myself.

Subsequently, I lost my virginity to that alluring vampire in the middle of the forest alcove, naked against the silencing watch of the moon as I took his cock and experienced my first taste of a pleasure that I had chosen for myself. Thereafter, I continued to meet him often, returning to that alcove and waiting for him to arrive with his ocean eyes and snowy-white hair. For the most part, we fucked in our little private shelter with the sound of the river in the background. However, there were also nights when we simply enjoyed one another’s company, talking about our vastly different worlds and the places where we had come from.

He told me that his name was Felix, and I whispered my name in return. Paradoxically, such a simple act opened a deep intimacy between us, and it made everything better because we had both decided to cherish our brief moments together away from the regular monotony of our lives. And he always listened to me with admirable patience, offering me advice with a wisdom that defied the age he appeared on the outside.

“My alpha did promise me to someone,” I told him one night. “We’re supposed to mate after his first rut.”

“Someone younger?” he questioned, turning over onto his side. “That little mutt won’t know how to please a woman.”

“He’s actually my friend,” I said softly. “I don’t think either of us want to go through with it.”

“Then don’t,” he suggested as if we were talking about something as simple as the weather.

“That’s not how things work in the pack,” I said.

“I thought you weren’t going to let them tell you what to do,” he said, looking at me with those irresistible eyes.

They filled me with courage, and I nodded my head determinedly. “I’ll run away if I have to.”

He laughed. “You don’t have to go that far, pup. The rogue life isn’t exactly glamorous.”

“You’ve survived,” I pointed out. “Maybe we could just go somewhere together.”

He grinned. “I guess we could.”

Meanwhile, I moved myself closer to him, cherishing our close connection. “Let’s start something on our own, like a combination of a pack and a coven.”

“Oh?” he asked, wordlessly moving himself on top of me. “Would you like that, pup?”

I nodded frantically. “We could lead it together.”

“It sounds so sweet coming from your lips,” he said, spreading my legs to make more room for himself. “Hmmm...I can smell your arousal.”

I blushed at the comment. “Maybe I missed you.”

“Is that right?” he questioned. “Let’s see how much you missed me, pup. Take off these clothes for me.”

I happily complied, eagerly tossing my shirt over my head before reaching down for the button on my jeans. Perhaps in another life, I might consider taking my time and putting on a show for him, but I was probably one of the clumsiest wolves in the pack, and it was better for me to remove them without incident. “Good?” I asked, shyly, whimpering when he pulled my panties down my legs.

“Let’s spread these some more,” he said, pushing my thighs apart and releasing a guttural moan. “I want to see your pretty cunt.”

I threw my head back at his words, feeling exposed under the weight of his gaze, especially when he started tracing my swollen labia, parting the delicate folds and rumbling low inside his chest. “Please,” I whispered.

“You’re begging already, pup?” he asked, grabbing my knees and keeping them spread wide. “Look how wet you are. Did you get like this talking about that future mate of yours?”

I shook my head. “It’s always you, Felix.”

“Oh? Well, it’s a good thing that this pussy belongs to me, then.” he said, and I tried not to moan when I felt his hot breath contradict with the cold sensation of his hands. It sent tremors down my spine, and I watched as his tongue collected the arousal that had started to form courtesy of his irresistible presence. And I knew exactly what he was going to do, but it still felt indescribably good to feel him trace my slit, mouthing at my clit and sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.

He started a steady rhythm, eyes watching me the entire time as his tongue explored my wet heat - sharp teeth bright under the moonlight. The sounds of his tongue lapping at my arousal were loud, and I fisted my hands at my sides as I started to grind against his face. My pleasure was steadily mounting, and it was comparable to nothing else in this world - exquisite luxury of which I had started to form an inescapable addiction. But Felix had a wicked tongue, and he sometimes spent most of our nights together eating me out while whispering dirty things that left me trembling for more.

In the meantime, I could feel some of my slick leaking down my ass, and it felt like he was doing his best to taste as much as he could. “Feels good,” I slurred, and he chuckled at my comment.

“I bet it does,” he said, slipping two fingers into my tight heat and forcing me to arch my back at the rough penetration. “Relax.”

“I can’t,” I whined, and I was blissed out as he thrusted his fingers in and out of my soaking wet pussy while his tongue lapped at my clitoris. He curled them deep inside, brushing against my g-spot, and I moaned at the wildly intoxicating sensation.

“Can you come for me with just my fingers?” he asked, adding a third as he continued to pump them inside of me, creating filthy squelching noises that disturbed the quiet of the forest.

“Yes,” I panted because I always wanted to please him, and Felix’s deep groan was nothing short of sinful when I started pulsating around his fingers. It was like something inside of me had snapped, and his fingers were still curling against my overstimulated walls as my hips steadily rode the waves of my orgasm until it was verging on the edge of too much.

“Felix,” I cried, wrapping my fingers around his wrist while he pulled his fingers from my heat, licking them with a concentrated expression - like it was blood instead of my arousal. “So good, pup,�� he praised, and I beamed at him while enjoying the post-orgasmic glow surrounding me. However, Felix was clearly not finished yet, and I whined when he circled his fingers around my swollen clitoris. “Can you take my cock?” he asked and I shakily agreed.

Felix stood long enough to remove his jeans, tugging at his erection as he surveyed my pliant form. He had such a nice dick because it wasn’t as mind-numbingly large like my older sisters always complained of their alphas, but it was big enough to leave me feeling satisfied. “It might be interesting,” he said. “To see you take a knot, but I’d be too jealous to let that happen.”

He took his place between my thighs, pulling me even closer as his fingers traced my gaping opening. “Could this pussy even handle a knot?”

“Let me have it,” I whimpered, rubbing myself shamelessly against his cock and shivering when it traced against my folds.

“I’ll give you everything, pup,” he promised, and then his cock was splitting my tight heat, stretching me open as I clawed at the grass on either side of my head. “Such a tight pussy,” he commented, and I could tell that he was holding himself back from hurting me.

Naturally, Vampires were born with uncanny speed, and that applied to more than just running through the forest. For example, Felix sometimes liked to show off just how fast he could move his hips while fucking me with his cock, but we always gradually worked up to that, allowing me to adjust around him first. Otherwise, I would be left an incoherent mess incapable of uttering a single syllable while he had his way with me.

Yet, at the same time, I could also feel his sharpened incisors edging along the prominent vein pulsing with blood. I titled my neck to the side to give him better access because I never minded it when he took some blood while we had sex. However, he simply chuckled at my submissive behavior, wrapping his fingers around my throat as he started to quicken the pace of his thrusts. Consequently, my little whines increased in volume, knowing that he could literally drill his cock inside if he really wanted. “Oh, fuck,” he cursed. “You look so good on my cock, love.”

I closed my eyes, fingers brushing the soft grass around me to provide a steady anchor. Especially when he reached for one of my legs, hoisting it around his waist for a better angle at my stretched opening. Felix pulled all the way out, looking down at where his tip teased the entrance of my gaping hole. But there was no oxygen left inside my lungs when he filled me up again with his impressive length, allowing a faster rhythm while he studied me with hooded eyes. The new position was making it very difficult to breathe, but I wanted to be so good for Felix, and I tried to focus on the remarkable way that his cock managed to hit so deep as it ruined the soft walls of my pussy. “Felix,” I whispered. “Drink from me.”

His eyes grew wider, but he nodded and leaned down, positioning my neck to his liking. I grimaced when his canines bit down for the first time, but it rapidly turned more enjoyable when he released the familiar endorphins that always made me feel like I was high. He started drinking in long and languid pulls, and I swore I could feel his cock grow even larger inside of me as he swallowed down my blood.

He finally pulled away gasping, eyes flashing red as he grabbed my legs and started to literally force me down onto his cock, moving so fast that I could barely find the time to scream at the overwhelming pleasure. “Stay still for me, love,” he requested while his hand gripped my chin. “I want to see that pretty face when you cum on my cock.”

It didn’t take me long after that, contracting around his length as I came for the second time that night. Felix grunted when he felt me squeeze around his erection, and his cum was surprisingly warm when it started to leak out of the place where we were still connected. But my lungs were also on fire, chest falling up and down as I slowly came back from the precipice of my all-consuming orgasm.

And Felix bent down and inhaled against my neck, tongue sweeping out to lap at the place where he had bitten me. “I want to see you again on Friday,” he said, voice gruff as he kissed me, and I could taste the remnants of my blood on his tongue.

By the time I arrived back at our camp, it was still too early for the sun to be visible over the horizon. Likewise, most of my pack mates were still asleep which made it easier to sneak back to the Omega cabin. Of course, I inwardly cursed when I remembered that one of my friends was often waiting for my arrival. But Hwang Hyunjin was the pack’s night guard, and he always kept watch at the main entrance of our camp.

“You were out late last night,” Hyunjin commented, and he looked like he was expecting me to break down and tell him the truth.

“I needed a walk,” I told him smartly. “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah, but you need to be careful, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “I’m covering your ass, but the others might notice that you smell like cum.”

I froze at his declaration, and it took everything that I had not to smell my clothes, wondering if Felix had touched something on me. However, I also knew that Hyunjin had one of the best noses in the pack, and he sometimes noticed different scents even after I spent hours washing myself in the river. But if he could smell something that risqué on me, then it meant that someone else might also detect the same scent. And I was suddenly very self-conscious, looking around at my other pack members as they passed by the two of us. “Is it bad?” I asked him.

Hyunjin nodded slowly. “When are you going to tell me who you’re meeting? Is it someone from another pack?”

“I can’t tell you,” I said. “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“Well, I hope that Mark doesn’t say anything on your mating night,” Hyunjin said. “I think he’ll probably notice that you aren’t a virgin anymore.”

There was a warning in his tone that I chose to ignore. Because I couldn’t think about those repercussions. Thankfully, Hyunjin was a very close friend, and he would never reveal my secrets to our alpha who might feel so inclined to dismiss me from the pack if he discovered my impurity. Of course, thinking about my mating night with Mark always managed to ruin my good mood, and I sighed as I leaned back against the wall of the Omega cabin. “I hate that my father chose him.”

Hyunjin shrugged. “He tried to put it off, but I think it’s nice that you and Mark are friends.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, glancing over Hyunjin’s shoulder to locate the younger as he laughed with some of our pack elders.

“To be honest,” Hyunjin said. “He smells a lot like rut these days.”

I shivered. “How long?”

“Maybe another week or so,” Hyunjin informed me. “You know that our alpha will want to move forward with the ceremony as soon as Mark finishes his first rut.”

I shook my head at the situation. “It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Why?” Hyunjin asked. “You were fine with it when your father made the arrangement.”

“Feelings change,” I said.

“Or, it’s because you like this mysterious wolf that you’re meeting in the middle of the night,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe next time I should stop you.”

“Please don’t do that,” I said. “I want to enjoy my time with him while I can.”

“Well, I hope you're being serious,” Hyunjin said. “Once you’re officially mated to Mark, you can’t sneak out of camp anymore.”

“I got it,” I snapped at him, even if I knew that it wasn’t his fault. After all, he was only telling me the truth that I needed to hear, but it still didn't make it any easier to accept.

“Well,” Hyunjin huffed. “Since you’re in such a jovial mood, I’ll tell you about the guests that we’re expecting today.”

“Guests? Inside the camp?”

“Vampires,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “The Coven from the mountains.”

“I thought our alpha hated them.”

“It was Chan’s idea to meet,” Hyunjin said, referring to our alpha’s son and the next alpha-in-command. “He wants to establish some diplomatic ties with their young prince.”

“Really? That’s unexpected.”

“I think so too,” Hyunjin said. “And the idea of having so many bloodsuckers in the camp sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Both sides are probably uncomfortable,” I said, defending the vampires when my younger self would’ve never hesitated to curse their existence.

But feelings change.

“When did you get so wise, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked with a playful smile. “I’d say it’s because you make smart decisions, but you wouldn’t be sneaking out of the camp every other night.”

“Ha-Ha,” I replied, but a better rebuttal would have to wait because I noticed that Adam, one of Chan’s youngest friends, was walking in our direction. “Don’t you two have other responsibilities besides gossiping?” Adam grumbled.

“I haven’t received my assignment yet,” I said.

“Jisung’s leading a border patrol this afternoon,” Adam informed me with a sarcastic huff. “Knock yourself out.”

“Gee, thanks,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes. Adam had always acted dismissive towards me, ever since he asked for my father’s permission to mate with me and I sternly turned him down. It didn’t help that he confronted me later on about it, informing me bluntly that I was missing out because he had a gigantic knot and would fill me up so well with his pups.

And Hyunjin smirked at the tension between us. “I’ll join that patrol,” he said, tossing an arm around my shoulders before leading me away. “You’d think that Adam would move on already,” he said. “I guess you bruised his ego when you chose an inexperienced pup over him.”

“I didn’t choose anyone,” I grumbled.

Except for Felix.

But neither Adam nor Hyunjin needed to know about him. In fact, I had every intention of keeping my first lover a complete secret, and I planned to carry it with me for the rest of my life.

Later on, I found Jisung waiting at the main camp entrance, attempting to count the gathered heads of his pack mates. Despite his position, Jisung was actually rather inept when it came to leading patrols, and usually someone else had to take over for him. However, it was still endearing to see him try so hard for the rest of us, so I never complained. Plus, Jisung was lenient when everyone started to complain that the western border line was too long to navigate, which meant that we often ignored the swampland and the sticky mud that coated my fur.

“Let’s go,” Jisung said, taking command as he shifted into his wolf form, waiting for the rest of us to do the same thing before we took off for the woods. I nipped playfully at Hyunjin’s shoulder while we remained at the back of the patrol, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight warming my pelt. There was always an undeniable sense of belonging whenever I found myself on four legs instead of two - moving through the thick underbrush of the forest with eyes wide open.

Eventually, our patrol tapered off to a brisk walk, and Hyunjin leaned in closer, using the pack’s established mind-link to speak to me. “You seriously aren't gonna spill about your mystery man?”

I turned to glare at him as best I could while functioning as a wolf. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m the one who protects you,” Hyunjin returned, baring his teeth in an intimidating manner. “I thought we were friends.”

“Trust me,” I said, lowering my head somewhat submissively to appease him. “You don’t want to know.”

Hyunjin considered me for a moment, and the brown eyes of his wolf matched the same color of the man who shared the same consciousness. However, before he could say anything else, Jisung approached us both with a sharp growl. “Stop messing around,” he said. “You should be checking the caves.”

Hyunjin nudged me with his head, encouraging me to start in that direction. “Don’t think that this conversation is over,” he said, rumbling low in his chest. “We’ve never hidden secrets from each other, Y/N. It makes me think that you’re hiding something bad.”

I bristled at his claim, following him on unsteady paws as we navigated to the caverns overlooking the ocean. They marked the edge of our western border, and usually posed no threat to surrounding packs. In fact, most wolves disregarded the uncomfortable caverns, which made our job easier after a thorough inspection with no sign or smell of foreign intrusion.

It was also starting to grow late in the afternoon, and we had ventured far from our campsite. Jisung released a summoning howl to bring our patrol back together, and he ensured that everyone had detailed their report before announcing our abrupt return. “Don’t forget that we’re expecting visitors tonight,” Jisung said. “It’s a peaceful meeting, so let’s not make trouble.”

“I don’t get why we’re trying to play nice with the vampires,” Hyunjin said with a resentful tone, and I knew that I had made the right decision by keeping my encounters with Felix a secret from him.

Of course, upon our return to the camp, I could tell that the vampire representatives had already arrived because there was a noticeable amount of wolves patrolling the entrance with evident tension reflecting in their gazes. Jisung bowed politely in their direction as we re-entered the camp, and I quickly discovered that my pack mates were lingering outside of Chan’s cabin where he always conducted his diplomatic affairs.

Most of us had already shifted back, and as if on cue, the door opened and Chan stepped outside with a strikingly familiar face that had me pausing in my steps. “Hey!” Hyunjin protested when he ran into my back. “Don’t just stop like that.”

But I made no attempt to move from my position, and his words had barely registered over the panic seeping into every inch of my body. Because the vampire standing next to Chan was none other than Felix - the very same man who frequently met me in our private alcove at the river. However, it was surreal to see him here in camp as my worlds literally collided together, but it wasn’t nearly as startling as the realization that the vampire who I had trusted was certainly no rogue. “That’s Prince Felix,” Jisung informed me.

“Prince?” I repeated, feeling a cold dread holding me hostage.

Felix's eyes met mine at the same time when I realized that the mysterious stranger who I met at late hours of the night was the vampire prince of the coven that my pack loathed. Felix noticed me immediately, but his composure never faltered with the exception of one brow raising suggestively. He wasn’t listening to Chan, looking at me with the same eyes that I often saw from the space between my thighs.

I shook my head when I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I quietly dismissed myself from my patrol who were all quietly observing the vampire prince. “Nice going, Y/N,” I muttered to myself as I retreated into the Omega cabin. “Shit, this is bad.”

On the one hand, I felt anxious about the knowledge that the vampire I had been meeting in secrecy was running around my camp. But, on the other hand, I also felt sick to my stomach because Felix had lied to me about his rogue status. It was even worse since he was the prince of the vampire coven that my pack alpha despised - the same one that Chan was trying to improve our relations. Everything could be easily undone if the pack knew that I was literally screwing around with Felix. Not only would it ruin our attempts to communicate peacefully, but my alpha would order my banishment from the pack if he discovered that I broke my chastity vow and gave myself to someone other than my predetermined mate.

“Y/N?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “What are you doing?” I gasped. “This is the Omega cabin.”

“I was worried,” Hyunjin said. “You looked like you were afraid of something.”

I found it difficult to meet his gaze, but I still forced myself to look in his direction. Because it was time to tell him the truth and alleviate the burden that continued to weigh heavily on my subconscious. “The vampire prince,” I whispered, watching Hyunjin lean in closer to hear me speak. “I’ve been seeing him.”

“What?

I sighed at his evident confusion. “My mystery man is the vampire prince!”

My tone was sharp, but I was incredibly agitated, especially as I anxiously awaited Hyunjin’s reaction. I knew that he would be surprised by the revelation, and I could sense the combination of his shock and annoyance reflected in his sharp inhale - eyes glowing with pure anger. “You can’t be serious, Y/N.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms securely around my middle. “I didn’t know who he was,” I said. “I mean, I knew that he was a vampire, but he told me that he was a rogue.”

“Oh, shit, this is bad,” Hyunjin said, and he immediately started pacing across the ground. “I can’t believe that you’ve been fucking a vampire! And Prince Felix? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Your support is greatly appreciated,” I snapped at him. “Look, when I met him for the first time, I had just been told that my father hitched me to one of my friends. I was angry, okay? I needed to clear my head, and I met him at the river and he just...he made me feel like I could be free while I was with him. Not tied down to a responsibility that I never wanted!”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You talk about Mark like it’s so horrible that you’d spend the rest of your life as partners.”

“But it wasn’t my choice!” I shouted, no longer concerned with whoever might overhear our conversation. “I didn’t ask for a mate, and you know that I never wanted one.”

“Fine, you’re fucking selfish, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still meeting with this...vampire! If you don’t want to be tied down or whatever, then why is he an exception?”

“Because he made me change my mind,” I said. “He showed me something that I was never allowed to have in the pack. Felix made me want him, and he taught me what life could be like when I made decisions for myself.”

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” Hyunjin growled, turning his back to me with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re my best friend, Hyunjin,” I reminded him fiercely. “My entire life is hanging by a thread, and I need you to help me figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders rose and fell as he literally shook with his frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. I feel betrayed, and I need some time alone.”

“Hyunjin...” I tried again, reaching out for his shoulder, but he wordlessly shook me off before storming away across the camp.

Later that evening, one of my roommates approached me about a special bonfire that our pack was organizing in celebration of the vampires. I snorted at the idea because I knew that there was a risk of seeing Felix involved, but a frustrating part of myself was also desperate to see him again. Even after the revelation of his true identity. After all, I knew that it was important for us to talk about everything, especially with the potential for close relations between my pack and his coven.

Thus, I joined some of my roommates as we left the safety of the Omega cabin for the impressive bonfire at the center of our camp. It was crowded with wolves and vampires, and there was a neutral atmosphere that certainly demonstrated the potential for peace. Which made me realize that it was essential that I talk to Felix, and I continued searching the bonfire for any sign of him. I walked around the edge of the gathered assembly, and I was so intensely focused that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a cold hand reached for mine. I turned around to confront the source, but his free hand quickly closed over my mouth. “Follow me,” Felix said in the same deep voice that always managed to leave me feeling flushed from head to toe.

I whined in protest, but he gave me no other option when he practically drug me into the trees. “You’re an asshole,” I told him as a greeting. I pulled myself away from him, crossing my arms impatiently as I narrowed my eyes. “Do you think you even have a right to speak to me? After lying about who you are!”

“I’m sorry,” Felix said, but I scoffed at the feeble apology. “I’m serious, Y/N, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Of course not,” I snarled. “You wanted to keep me in the dark! But how long did you plan to string me along, huh? Until I stopped showing up?”

“Y/N-”

“You told me you were a rogue,” I interrupted, slapping away his hand when he attempted to touch me. “You disregarded my feelings, and you played me for a fool! I guess you also lied when you said that you cared about me!”

“Don’t say that!” Felix hissed, and I startled at the strength of his conviction. “I know why you’re upset, and I deserve every bit of your anger. But I hope you don’t actually believe that I was just using you!.”

“What else am I supposed to believe?” I asked. “You had every opportunity to come clean!”

“If I told you the truth, then you would’ve never agreed to keep meeting me,” Felix shouted, and I tensed as I searched our surroundings. “Y/N, if you knew that I was a vampire prince, then I might've never had the chance to speak to you again, and I couldn’t stand the thought of that!”

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “You’ll never see me again after tonight.”

“Y/N! I hope you're not being serious,” Felix said, and there was a slight hint of desperation to his tone. “I was wrong, okay? But I never meant for you to find out like this!”

“I’m promised to someone in my pack,” I said, and my words sounded empty even to me. “There’s no reason to keep going.”

“You told me that you would never agree to the ceremony,” Felix said. “And I plan to make it up to you. Somehow, I’m going to earn your forgiveness.”

“Good luck with that,” I snorted, and I left him standing in the shelter of the trees before I rejoined my pack mates.

It had been several days since I confronted Felix, and I restrained myself from returning to the little alcove in the forest where we usually met for our scandalous rendezvous. I mean, life was supposed to move on, and time could heal all wounds, but maybe all of those old sayings were just bullshit! Because I missed Felix despite our last argument, and I hadn’t seen Hyunjin since he left me standing next to the Omega cabin.

I tried to confront him one morning, but he barely offered me a response before he was talking about some sort of assignment that he had to take care of before the end of the day. Of course, I knew that it was just an excuse to ignore me, but it still stung to face his rejection. I was beyond stressed, and perhaps my breakdown was inevitable when one of our pack members informed me that Mark had finally entered his first rut. “Congratulations, Y/N,” they told me, but I only felt like someone had stolen every ounce of my happiness.

I couldn’t control my actions after the announcement, and my wolf howled from somewhere deep inside of me, and I started running on four legs once I had escaped the camp borders. Consequently, I ran through the trees, dodging the overhanging branches and skillfully avoiding collisions with the surrounding foliage. Eventually, my wolf stopped at the entrance to the familiar alcove, hesitating when I realized that someone else was already sitting among the vines.

“Y/N,” his familiar voice said, beckoning me closer despite my appearance.

My wolf whined, and I quietly shifted to stand on two legs once again. “You’re here,” I said, jerking my head to the side so that he couldn’t see my tears.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered to me. “I should’ve never lied to you, but I was afraid that I would lose the beautiful she-wolf who I met that night in the forest.”

“We can’t keep doing this anymore, Felix,” I said, trying to ignore the way that he was looking at me. “I feel like I’m betraying my pack.”

“By doing something that you want?” Felix asked, daring a step closer. “They should value your happiness, Y/N. If you hate the idea of mating with someone else, then they shouldn’t force you. Who’s really betraying who in this situation?”

I closed my eyes to hold back fresh tears. “My pack hates your coven.”

“My father hates your alpha,” Felix said, crowding me against one of the trees. “They have a silly blood feud that has nothing to do with the rest of us.”

“What can you do?” I asked him. “I can’t keep living like this.”

“Then I’ll make it easier on you, Y/N,” Felix said with a fierce determination.

“Felix, what are you-”

“Let me handle it,” he interrupted, quietly pulling me in for a soft kiss that I had desperately missed. “I know a way to fix everything, and you can stay with your pack.”

“How?” I asked him, gripping tight to his shirt sleeves.

“I’ve been planning this for a while,” Felix said with a playful wink. “I know it’s too much to ask, but can you trust me this one time?”

I rested my head against his solid chest, sighing at the sensation of his cold skin competing with my enhanced body heat. There were a million reasons to walk away from Felix, especially since I was feeling so confused. My entire life was something of a train wreck, and everything was changing too fast around me in such a short amount of time. However, in spite of everything, I trusted Felix with my entire heart and soul.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I allowed him to brush another reassuring kiss across my lips.

Felix told me to wait for him, but it was nearing the end of the week when my pack received an unexpected visit from the notorious Vampire King and his young son. Since our pack alpha was gone, Chan stood in his place, welcoming the vampire royals with a forced smile. “Greetings,” Chan said, glaring at a group of wolves who were whispering together in low tones.

“During our last meeting, you mentioned something quite interesting,” the Vampire King said. “I believe you called it the potential for a union between our people.”

“Yes,” Chan agreed. “I’m still searching for ideas-”

“Well, I have a suggestion,” The Vampire King interrupted. “If you’re interested in listening...”

“Of course,” Chan said, and I could tell that his tone was strained.

“In a show of allegiance,” the Vampire King growled. “My son has agreed to marry one of your...dogs.”

“Father,” Felix said, giving the elder a meaningful look.

The King sighed. “He has chosen a member of your pack.” I swallowed hard when his gaze landed on me. “Y/N.”

I froze at the utterance of my name, feeling the attention of everyone in the surrounding crowd aimed in my direction. “Y/N!” Chan repeated. “She’s promised to someone else!”

“My son has made his choice,” the Vampire King declared. “This will be the union of our people.”

The declaration was met with hostile glares and quiet murmurings throughout ,y pack members. Thankfully, Felix could detect their unease, and he quickly sought to alleviate their concerns. “While we’re married, Y/N can return to the pack as much as she wants,” Felix said, sending a soft smile in my direction. “Our marriage can act as another show of respect between our people.”

“But why is she your choice?” Chan asked, taking another step in Felix’s direction. “We have many unmated females!”

“I like her the best,” Felix said, and perhaps it might seem outrageous to these wolves and vampires who viewed us as complete strangers, but it filled my heart with an unmeasurable glee. “We spent a lot of time together during our last visit to your camp,” Felix continued. “Y/N was always very welcoming.”

“This is also nonnegotiable,” the Vampire King said, giving Chan a meaningful look.

Chan hesitated in return, turning around to look at me with sadness in his gaze. “I’ll talk to Y/N first.”

I nodded slowly, aware that I couldn’t just agree since it wasn’t a reaction that the others would anticipate. “Okay,” I said, and I followed Chan to the cabin that he shared with his roommates until he officially took over as our pack alpha.

It was quiet between us at first, and I could tell that Chan was searching for the right words. “Y/N,” Chan finally said, closing the door behind us. “You can sit down.”

I obeyed him at once, finding a chair near the fireplace and resting comfortably. “This isn’t something that I hate, you know,” I told him as a way to resolve the unusual tension. “I want to do this for our people.”

I took a deep breath as I allowed the unspoken ‘and for myself’ to remain a secret. Meanwhile, Chan shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around the fact that I wasn’t protesting this unexpected decision. “You can be honest,” he said. “I want you to feel like you can trust me, especially when I take over the pack one day.”

“You’ll make a good leader,” I assured him. “But I’m not lying to you, Chan. This is something that I’ve already accepted.”

“What about Mark?” Chan asked. “Is that not something you want?”

I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I know what you must be thinking to yourself, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m doing this because I feel pressured. It’s quite the opposite actually.”

“But do you really like him?” Chan asked. “I mean, from the way he spoke, it sounded like the two of you had known each other for a lot longer than a few days.”

I sighed at the accurate statement, and I forced myself to meet his gaze from across the room. “What if I told you that it wasn’t? Would you tell our alpha?”

Chan paused in the middle of his pacing, searching my eyes as I returned the gesture, and he eventually allowed himself to sit down on the edge of his bed. “I won’t do that to you, Y/N,” Chan finally spoke. “I’m not an expert on love or feelings by any means, but I can tell that you like him, and that’s good enough for me.”

I felt my shoulders drop at his acceptance like the burden of his response was finally alleviated. “Thank you, Chan,” I said. “I hope that you can also see this as an opportunity for the future between us and the Vampires.”

“He seems like a good leader,” Chan acknowledged. “For that reason, we’ll commence with the ceremony.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” I whispered, and Chan managed a smile in my direction that told me he understood more than I realized.

On the day of my mating ceremony, I decided to walk along the shoreline of the river where I had spent so much time meeting Felix in secret. It was a beautiful day, and I felt like a real princess in my flowing white gown decorated with delicate lace and flower patterns. Although I had never once imagined myself in this place, I also couldn’t deny that everything felt like I was walking through some kind of dream with a happy ending waiting for me on the other side.

It was easy to get lost in the natural splendor surrounding me, but I still noticed the sound of the underbrush rustling from behind. I quietly turned around, smiling when I noticed Hyunjin standing there looking at me. “Hey,” I told him, holding out my hand for him.

I was relieved when Hyunjin eliminated the distance between us, taking my hand while the two of us looked out across the water. “I can’t stay mad at you, Y/N.”

I grinned at his words. “Does that mean I shouldn’t bother apologizing.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far...”

I finally laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry about everything, Hyunjin. I should’ve told you, but every night with Felix felt like a dream that I had to keep for myself. It’s like, if I told anyone else, then I would have to wake-up and marry Mark and pretend like I wouldn’t be miserable.”

Hyunjin nodded, processing my words with a sigh. “There’s no use staying mad over something that ended up like this. Your friendship means more than some secret affair.”

“I’m marrying the vampire prince,” I said, and it was still difficult to hear those words spoken aloud. “It’s strange how things work out sometimes.”

“Well, everyone keeps saying that this will resolve centuries of tensions with the vampires,” Hyunjin said. “I think that’s a little bold, but this isn’t a bad start. Especially if it makes you happy.”

“You’re right.” I nodded. “He does make me happy. He taught me a lot about myself, and it finally feels like I have control over my own destiny.”

“It’s almost cliche,” Hyunjin said. “How you got your happy ever after.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’ll be there too, right?”

Hyunjin chuckled, tugging me closer. “Yeah. I’ll be there for you.”

I was elated to know that we had finally reconciled, but there was still one more thing that I needed to ask him...”Do you like him?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a while, but he didn’t keep me waiting for long. “I think anyone who can make you smile like that is okay in my books.”

“Well then,” I giggled, holding tight to his hand when we started walking back to the camp. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at my theatrics, but his smile was fond as we made our way back to our camp to rejoin the gathered congregation of our pack mates and the visiting vampires. Despite the jovial occasion, there was still a hint of hostility in the air that I knew wouldn’t simply go away because of this one act of unity. Instead, it would take patience and time to resolve the conflict between our people, but I could only hope for the best.

Especially when my eyes met Felix’s as he waited for me. As usual, he was undeniably handsome - extravagant in every sense of the word. Plus, he was all mine for the rest of our lives, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my time than in the company of the person who I loved most in this confusing world.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids felix #stray kids felix fanfic #lee felix #felix fanfic #felix smut #stray kids werewolf au #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids writer #mostlycompetent

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74 @tsarinatorment and @scribbles97 for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J A N D S W E L L A N D M O B I L E.

S T A N D B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #where there be dragons au #an attempt at Steampunk

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yuta1forme · 3 years

Text

like magnets | ten

summary: in which you and ten are up and coming choreographers who are forever at each other’s throats. but maybe fighting is just an excuse to get close.

pairing: ten x reader

genre: angsty fluff

warnings: some swearing, alcohol mention, loads of bickering

length: 4.3k

tag list: @sly-merlin @animegirl366 @yonoohcore

He’s confident to the point of arrogance. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. When the pair of you start fighting, all the other dancers make their way out of the studio, not wanting to get involved in another explosive Y/N-Ten showdown. He counters your every suggestion. He always has more critique for your performances than praise.

And yet, he is the best dance partner you could ever ask for. He matches your poise with his passion. In dance, you both have found a middle ground.

When Ten first joined the studio you really wanted to like him. He was a young, up and coming dancer from Thailand. What you had not seen coming was that besides being the same age, you and Ten had precious little in common. The day you first met Ten, you had decided in less than ten seconds that you two would never, to put this lightly, become the “best of friends”.

You had entered the break room of the studio that day, late and soaking wet because of the heavy downpour that had begun the night before. Hungry and disgruntled, all you had wanted to do was to grab a steaming cup of green tea and the last of your favorite jelly doughnuts. Only the thought of those jelly doughnuts had you hanging on during your hour and forty-five-minute long journey to work this morning. They were your emotional support food, your one and only indulgence. After almost three years at the studio, all the other dancers knew not to touch your jelly doughnuts. All except for the bucket-hat wearing Thai newbie who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Those were my doughnuts”, you had barely managed to huff out, focusing your mind on not raising your voice or worse, bursting into tears.

Now, if he had just apologized for eating them without asking you first, you both might not have started off on the wrong foot. No, the fucker just shrugged and said, “Didn’t see your name on them”. No shame in his eyes, not an ounce of regret in his voice. The powdered sugar from your doughnuts still around his mouth and dusted over his all-black ensemble. That fucker.

“So people just waltz into a room and eat someone else’s snacks where you’re from?”, you asked, your pitch becoming shriller with annoyance.

“No of course not. Because where I’m from, people don’t leave their snacks where everyone can see them, without putting their name on it first”, he replied, cool as a cucumber.

Taeyong had entered the break room at this point. He took one look at the powdered sugar on Ten’s face and the eyes-gonna-pop-out expression on yours and connected the dots. As one of the senior choreographers in the studio, Taeyong had developed a sixth sense for sniffing out conflicts before they broke out.

“Y/N! I see you’ve already met Ten! He’s the new dancer from Thailand. Ten this is Y/N”, Taeyong had prompted by way of introductions, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and inching closer to the door he had entered from.

“Oh, you’re Y/N. The one who choreographed the last Pink Cashmere comeback, right?”, Ten had asked, suddenly sitting up straight. Seeing that your conversation was turning civil, Taeyong had left the room just as quietly as he had entered it.

“Yes, that would be me”, you had responded. That was your first time working with an idol group and was a milestone in your career. You had spent weeks running on pure adrenaline and Americanos (and the occasional jelly doughnut), spending day and night listening to the new comeback track, reviewing concept photos and looking up old performances to get their style down just right. When you watched the girls perform the choreography for the first time, you were so immensely proud of yourself, you hadn’t stopped beaming for days.

“I should’ve known it was you, it had your signature footwork style all over it”, Ten had said, nodding his head slightly. You had felt flattered at that, surprised that anyone had even picked up that you had a certain trademark in your choreography.

“But, I thought it was too showy if you know what I mean”, Ten had continued, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a slight frown on his face.

You were almost embarrassed at how much his words affected you. While you were used to internet trolls taking jabs at your work, it was something entirely different to hear full-blown criticism from your peers. As the youngest choreographer in the studio, you rarely got challenged when it came to choreography, with most of your colleagues wholeheartedly encouraging you to spread your wings and grow no matter the outcome. It probably was not intentional on their part but it had become a fear of yours - what if nobody would outwardly challenge your decisions because they thought you were too weak to handle the truth?

Still, you felt a need to defend your creative decision. You needed to stand up for yourself. “The girls are great dancers and I thought a more challenging choreography would push them out of their comfort zone. Sooji and Maya were actually part of a hip-hop dance crew pre-debut. They were itching to try out a new concept”.

“But why not use more formations in the dance? It’s an eight-member group. You could’ve used that to your advantage”, Ten had countered. He made a good point. But you didn’t want to concede to him. Who did this man think he was? Walking in here and questioning your vision as a choreographer?, you though to yourself.

“Most of the other girl groups that came back around that time had similar songs but only Pink Cashmere had a distinct choreography. I wanted to make their choreography memorable”, you had said.

Ten had remained quiet for a while. “I didn’t think of it that way”, he had replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “In that case, I think you succeeded at whatever you set out to do with that choreography. It was definitely memorable, Y/N.”

He turned his gaze up towards your face and flashed you a sweet smile. He looked like a whole different person, almost innocently brushing powdered sugar off his cheeks like a mischievous cat who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.

Your whole first interaction with Ten had confused you. First he walked in acting like he owned the place, critiquing your choreography as if he was a veteran dancer. But then he had just as easily praised your abilities. But at the back of your mind you had this nagging feeling that whatever Ten had said to you was not in an effort to undermine you, unlike some of the backhanded compliments delivered by your peers. He had criticized you because he thought you could take it, because he thought of you as an equal. And you kind of enjoyed that.

Arguing with Ten became a part of your everyday routine thereafter. So did labelling your snacks with your names and leaving passive-aggressive messages on post-it notes.

At nineteen, you gave up a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious law school in your country and moved to Seoul with a single suitcase and your old school backpack in hand. Your family had threatened to cut off contact with you if you left the country, but you left anyway; Your passion for dance was stronger than your fear of losing them. Dance was your first love. You lived and breathed it. Like hell were you giving up on your first love that easy.

You worked odd jobs during the day and filmed original choreographies for your YouTube channel during the night. After struggling for over a year, your hope slowly dwindling, you got a notification that changed your life. Kim Jongin, one of South Korea’s ballet prodigies had shared one of your videos on Twitter. Your subscriber count had quadrupled overnight, with hundreds of thousands of commenters dubbing you a “prodigy”. Fate brought you to Jongin, who then introduced you to Taeyong, who brought you to SM studios.

It was a dream come true - for years you had only struggled, floating in dark and murky water, swimming forward towards a hazy future. Now, you had thousands of fans, dozens of supportive friends, and a solid foundation from where you could dream. Your friend Hendery liked to joke that you would need more than twenty-four hours a day if you wanted to do everything in your planner. And truth be told, he was right. You had given up a lot to pursue your dreams. Given up on your family, most of your friends, your home country. You wanted to make sure it was all worthwhile. So you wanted to spend every day making the most of the opportunities that you now had. You went to bed each night with a head full of ideas and woke up every morning with the fire to bring them to life.

Of course, dedicating your life to your craft came at a cost. The rest of the world had not stopped moving just because you decided to make dance your life. This dawned on you one rosy Valentine’s Day evening, when you, date-less for the fifth year running, quite naively decided to scroll through Instagram. Amongst the sea of pink, flowers and picture-perfect happy couples were two faces that made your stomach instantly drop - your ex and a stunning woman posing for the camera with their fingers intertwined. On her ring finger, a diamond the size of a blueberry.

You remember the day you broke things off with your ex like it was yesterday. You were at the airport, waiting to get on your flight to Seoul, positively buzzing with nerves. You had waited until you were seated on the plane to send your ex a rather heartless text message saying you were breaking up with him to find yourself and that it was best if he forgot you. Very dramatic, even for you. But you were nineteen and had just watched ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’. In return he had left you an equally dramatic voicemail, pleading with you to not end the relationship and proclaiming that he would never stop loving you. You had all but laughed at his message then.

You weren’t laughing anymore though. He was happily engaged, while you were lonely, lying in bed on Valentine’s day in a pizza grease-stained sweatshirt. You had spent the last few years working relentlessly which had given you a career that you could be proud of, friends you could rely on. But besides the occasional fling here and there, you didn’t have much in terms of a romantic life. You guessed you deserved this, that karma had finally caught up to you. Didn’t stop you from feeling like shit though.

So you did what you always did when you felt particularly shitty. You went down to the studio, turned the music on full blast and dove right into a new choreography. You were freestyling, too lost in the moment to hear the door creak open.

“I gotta hand it to you, Y/N, that was pretty impressive!”, a male voice exclaimed. You had spun around expecting to see Sicheng or Hendery at the door. Instead, you were met with a tired but rather amused looking Ten.

He was dressed in a white silk shirt and a pair of black slacks. You noticed the roses in his hands, slightly wilted but still beautiful nonetheless. He was clearly dressed up for a date. He looked striking as always but you didn’t linger too long on that, thinking that it was your romance deprived mind projecting thoughts onto the first attractive male it saw.

“What are you doing here? It’s Valentine’s day, don’t you have a crowd of screaming fans to attend to?”, you asked sarcastically.

“One date. And they stood me up, actually”, he replied with a bitter smile. He must have been quite upset if he didn’t have a snarky response for you.

You were truly taken aback. Ten? Getting stood up by someone? Ten, who could charm the socks off of anyone he set his eyes on, getting stood up on Valentine’s day?

“But how?”, you blurted out, instantly regretting it when you saw the quizzical look on Ten’s face. Yet you foolishly continued mumbling, or rather digging yourself deeper into a hole.

“I mean, you’re just...so...you”, you said vaguely gesturing at his whole form. From his boyish good looks to his ability to sweet-talk, Ten’s charms were undeniable. Ever since he joined the studio, the number of signups for the afternoon classes had doubled. Dozens of people would come to the studio every day, just to catch a glimpse of him. And he indulged them all too, flashing them his signature grin or paying them a cheeky compliment. If only you weren’t all too familiar with the way he could run his mouth during an argument, you too might have fallen for his charms.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Y/N, but I’m not quite the Casanova you expected me to be. But I will take that as a compliment”, he said with a wink that had you resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here though”, you mumbled out.

“I like to choreograph at night. I think I’m my most creative after midnight. Besides I just got my heart broken and I should channel that emotional energy somewhere right?”, Ten said feigning nonchalance. You could tell he was genuinely upset from how his night had played out and couldn’t help but sympathize with him.

“Well, I’m here for reasons along similar lines. You could join me? Help me choreograph this new freestyle piece I’m working on?”, you had asked.

Ten cocked his eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting you to extend an olive branch to him in this manner given how you were still being snarky with him five minutes ago. But he accepted your offer nonetheless.

You both entered your element pretty quickly, letting the music move your body freely. You worked out a simple choreography, cheering for each other when you came up with a particularly impressive move. You were having fun, even though you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. At least you hadn’t thought of your ex in the last couple of hours, mind completely occupied with the thought that you and Ten surprisingly made good dance partners. Perhaps the friction between the two of you translated to great chemistry when you were dancing. Taeyong would be pleased to know that.

“I’m beat”, you exclaimed, slumping down on the floor after the final round of practice. Ten sat down next to you, resting his back against the mirrored wall. The pair of you sat wordlessly for a few minutes, letting your heartbeats slow back down. You lay flat on the floor, too physically exhausted to move. As soon as you closed your eyes, your traitorous mind brought back the images of your ex’s engagement and you groaned loudly.

“Long day?”, Ten asked, giving you a slightly concerned look. You just chuckled bitterly in response.

“Want to talk about it?”, Ten pried in an almost uncharacteristically gentle voice. You wondered if he had ever spoken to you in that tone before.

“I don’t know if we’re close enough to have little heart-to-hearts yet Ten”, you replied. There was an invisible wall between you and Ten that you were just not ready to tear down. The thought of sharing embarrassing details about your love life with someone you could consider a frenemy at best, too jarring. You didn’t miss the way Ten’s shoulders slightly slumped at that. You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, yet you felt somewhat guilty.

“But…maybe we are close enough to have a drink together?”, you asked, suddenly emboldened by a rush of confidence that confused even you. You took his cheeky smile as a yes.

You spent the rest of the night drunk and giggling with Ten. The thoughts of your ex were long forgotten. Perhaps you could learn to do more than merely tolerating Ten’s presence. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy his presence too.

Soon it became a ritual - if you and Ten were the last ones left in the studio, you would grab some beers and head to the roof. It was such strange departure from your usual selves that you often wondered why it was so easy for you to enjoy his company sitting under the stars like this when you would be at each other’s throats the rest of the time.

Over time your conversations had gone from discussions about art, to plans of travelling the world, what you were currently binge-watching on Netflix, and everything in between. Still, there were some topics that you both steered clear of - talk of family and love lives was seemingly off the table.

Until one night after a couple of drinks, when Ten pulled his phone out to show you a picture of two women, one older and one younger. The striking resemblance between the faces in the photo and Ten confirmed that they were indeed his mother and sister. His sister was clad in a dark blue graduation gown and his mother was holding a beautiful bouquet of light pink roses.

“She graduated last week, my baby sister”, Ten said practically glowing. The proud look on his face was a testament to the close relationship he had with his sibling.

“You must miss her a lot”, you said, voice barely a whisper.

“All the time. My family are my biggest supporters. I don’t think I would have had the courage to move out here on my own if it weren't for their encouragement”, Ten answered.

You hadn’t spoken to your family ever since you came to Seoul. In the past, the longing left a pressure in your chest that sometimes made it feel like your throat would close, choking you on your guilt. Now, it just left you numb.

“What about you?”, Ten asked, cautiously prying into your personal life.

“What about me?”, you countered, diverting your gaze away from the man sitting next to you, instantly wary of how much you wanted to share about your past.

“What about your family? Your old home?”, Ten asked.

It couldn’t hurt sharing with Ten, right? It’s not like what he thought of you really mattered to you. Right?

“I actually don’t keep in touch with my family any more. They weren’t too keen on me becoming a dancer. It’s been, what, three? Three and a half years since I last saw them. When I first left home for Seoul”, you said, trying your hardest to suppress any trace of emotion in your voice. You kept your gaze focused on the city skyline ahead of you, too afraid to turn and see the expression on Ten’s face. You wondered what he thought of you, whether he thought you were stubborn. Worse yet, whether he pitied you.

After a few moments, Ten broke the silence. “I guess sometimes, not having a family is better than having one that doesn’t love you for who you are. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t possibly know how you must have felt, all these years. But I want you to know that the people who love you now, love you without any agenda. Not because they are related to you by blood, not because they are obligated to love you. But because they just love you”, Ten said, eyes shining with an emotion you didn’t know how to react to.

“And they could be your family too”, he finished in a voice that was so warm, so gentle, you wondered if this really was the Ten who stole your jelly doughnuts when you first met.

You were speechless, processing his words for what felt like hours but was probably just a few seconds. Then you did the only thing your impulsive mind could think to do - you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. In response, he wrapped you up in his embrace. You stayed still, focusing on the faint scent of his cologne on the sleeves of his hoodie. You breathed out a thank you, soft as a whisper. Whether or not Ten heard you, he moved his left arm slightly, gently stroking your hair and continued to chatter on about some entirely different topic.

You knew that once the sun came back up and both of you returned to your lives inside the studio, this little moment would not be brought up in front of anyone else. That moment was just for the two of you to share and bury deep within your hearts.

You knew you were in too deep one day when Ten gave you a friendly smile in passing while making his way to the break room, and you felt your cheeks and neck heat up. You had finally let the Thai dancer charm his way into your heart.

Typical Y/N, you thought to yourself, Falling in love with any cute boy who gives you attention. But he wasn’t just any cute boy. It was Ten. Ten, your frenemy turned close confidant. Ten, who would send you pictures of cute animals he saw on the street just because you once told him you wanted to adopt a cat. Ten, who took you dancing to a club in Hongdae when you were feeling low and all but carried your drunk ass back to your home. Ten, who over the last couple of months had heard every single one of your deepest insecurities and had still chosen to stick by you. Ten who had just left a box of jelly doughnuts in the break room, next to a post-it note with your name on it. To make matters worse, you were supposed to start working on a new collaboration together this week, a contemporary piece set to an R&B slow jam. How were you meant to work with him all week when you could barely make eye contact with him? You had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming.

You spent the week, evading conversation with him beyond work and some small talk to fill the silence. But none of your usual banter. You had even turned down his suggestion to grab dinner together several times that week, to the point that even typically non-confrontational Sicheng had picked up that something was off.

“Why have you been avoiding Ten all week? I thought you guys had given up fighting?”, Sicheng asked after he cornered you one day.

“Avoiding him? Now, why would I do that when we’ve been working together all week?”, you had chuckled nervously, desperately looking for an out from this conversation.

“He’s been sulking around since Tuesday, Y/N. He said he doesn’t know what he did to upset you”, Sicheng had asked you sharply.

The guilt in your eyes must have been apparent because Sicheng dropped his voice into a gentle whisper for what he said next.

“I know the two of you are as good at dancing around your feelings as you are at dancing on stage. But maybe try talking to him, Y/N? I think right now, you two might have more in common than you think”, Sicheng told you as he gave you a knowing look.

The day of the performance shoot came and there was a noticeable awkwardness between you and Ten. You decided to cut the tension by apologizing to him, citing the nerves for the performance as the reason you had been on edge the whole week. Whether or not Ten believed you, he accepted your apology and wrapped you up in his arms. You wished you had psychic abilities so you could read his mind. Did he have the same butterflies in his stomach right now?

As soon as the music started any nervousness you felt around Ten melted away. Dancing with him was like second nature to you by now. The song started with you on stage alone, dancing under the single spotlight illuminating the stage. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes, following your every move and observing you with nothing short of adoration. You left the stage for Ten’s solo and you could feel the goosebumps on your skin from watching him perform. He was absolutely stunning, moving fluidly through the movements as though he was painting with his body on the canvas of the stage. You joined him on stage for the chorus, dancing apart but facing one another as though mirroring the other’s movements. Through the bridge you inched closer and closer to one another. You felt your heartbeat beginning to rise from the proximity.

Both of you could communicate with each other with your eyes alone. You danced perfectly in sync with one another, pulling apart only to fall right back into each other, just like magnets. So different yet inseparable. You could see it in his eyes, when he looked at you, that the emotion in his mirrored yours. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he audibly gasped as you melted into his embrace for the final move. His heartbeat was racing a hundred miles an hour, just like yours. The pair of you stood there, lips just a few millimeters apart, breathing deeply as the studio erupted into thunderous applause. You were no longer afraid to admit to yourself and to the world, that you had it bad for Ten Lee.

And when he kissed you on the rooftop that night, you knew that he had it bad for you too.

#ten #ten scenarios #ten angst #ten fluff #ten imagines #nct #wayv #nct ten #wayv ten #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #wayv angst #wayv fluff #moonrise

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years

Text

Was that Jake there?

Part 2

Fandom: Duskwood

Paaring: Jake x MC

Word counter: 5,3k

Passage:

-"It doesn’t have to be just one night”

"Okay, just kidding please don’t hit me" Phil grins.

You roll your eyes.

"But you noticed when we wrote that I thought you are pretty" he adds.

"Phil.." Actually, you want to tell him that he should stop but you were interrupted.

"I think that were enough jokes for this night" you hear a dark voice behind Phil talking.

Phil scares out and turns around. You were expecting Dan, but that’s definitely not Dan.-

Preface: Hi guys👋🏻 I’m back with a new story. This one takes place after episode 6. Those who know my other stories know that I love it when the mysterious hacker suddenly appears. I don’t think it’s a spoiler, most of us are already done with episode 6.

I hope there are not too many mistakes and you can understand everything. It took all night to translate the German text. It may be that I missed some things but I hope you don’t mind by reading this. In the text there will be short passages from two songs, I have linked the songs but you don’t have to listen to them. I just wanted to bring the feeling over more. I hope you like it and have fun

"Jesssyyyy" you call out loud so she can hear you despite the loud music. Excited, she turns in your direction and you go through it between the other guests to get to Jessy quickly. It’s your first time in Duskwood. In keeping with Jessy’s birthday she celebrates at the city’s most famous club. She extra rented a Vip Lounge for this day.

You landed with the plane two hours ago, and Dan picked you up at the airport.

You brought your luggage to Jessy’s apartment, she gave Dan a key so you could leave your things in her apartment.

Unfortunately, you could not take an earlier flight because your Boss needed your help at work. But in this Moment is isn't important. Now you are finally in Duskwood. Jessy and the rest are already at the club celebrating. Actually, it’s her birthday tomorrow, but she wanted to party in. "MC" calls Jessy back loudly as she sees you between the people.If you hadn’t waved, she would never have seen you. Shortly thereafter, you happily fall into each other’s arms.

"Oh my God, I’m so happy to finally see you, so finally in real and not just about pictures," she murmurs into your ear. "I’m looking forward, too."

"Today we are having a party and forget everything for a few hours okay?" she asks grinning. You nod to her with determination. "It’s my turn to say hello" shouts a male voice.

Richy lifts you up a little bit and turns you both in a circle. Laughing, he lets you stand on the ground again. "THERE IS THE RIDDLE QUEEN YES" he shouts loudly and gossip. You bow and wink at him.

"MC" someone calls your name. This time Cleo’s coming at you. "Hello Cleo" you giggle and hug her too. "Nice that you managed to come" "I am also very happy, I must not miss this" "You should have come much earlier" she looks offended away but grins. "You could have invited me, but you didn’t," you giggle.

"Touché" she laughs.

Shortly thereafter, Thomas greets you. "Today we don’t think about the bad" you demend. "Tonight is ours," he agrees. He holds his hand up and you claps.

Also you and Lilly greet each other.It was weird at the beginning but after a short time it got better.

Since you’ve been standing in the way all the time and everyone has to walk past you, Dan finally pushes you into the sitting area of the lounge.

You recognize Phil right away, but you don’t know the rest of the people. You sit next to Jessy, and right now, Dan will hold you a glass of whiskey. "Whiskey Dan? Are you sure?" you ask. "No, we’re drinking tequila," Jessy blends in and puts a little glass on the table. Two shots of tequila and a glass of whiskey later, you’re suddenly tapped by someone. Your head turns in the direction you think the person is.

Frightened you open your eyes, Phil’s face is not ten centimeters from yours. "Woah" directly you slide back a bit. You bumping into Jessy. The glass in her hand starts to shake and the drink lands on the floor. Jessi’s face turns in your direction and you look at each oher in surprise. She starts laughing and you join in. Phil looks at you troubled. "Okay, that’s a girl thing," he grins. Another girl calls out to Jessy, she gets up and walks towards the bar. Phil starts talking, but you don’t hear anything through the loud music. "What did you say? I didn’t understand anything," you shouted. The bench of the lounge has a padded backrest. Phil puts his arm on this one just behind your shoulders, leaning down a bit to your ear. "I said we didn’t have time to say hello, you wanted to come to the Aurora" "That’s right, I haven’t made it yet, I’m in Duskwood for the first time today," you murmur. "Then you should come more often from now on" he winks. Nervously you smile at him and try to slip away a bit. You drink a sip of your cocktail and look around, you see Dan standing a few meters away, watching Phil skeptically. This is your chance. Inconspicuously you squint in Phil’s direction to show Dan that you need help. You have become quite good friends lately and he understands your situation immediately. He comes up to you and waves. Immediately you wave back and act like you’ve only just noticed him. Phil, who was about to tell you something, gets interrupted by Dan. "MC come with me, Jessy wants you to go dancing with her," he calls. You’re looking at Phil. He just smiles and moves aside so you can go to Dan. The bearded one immediately takes your hand and pulls you in the direction where the bar is. "Thank you" you say. "Watch little one, I really don’t like your hacker friend very much, but then I’d rather take him than a fuck boy like Phil. He is not a relationship person" You’re starting to smile. "If he shows up again, I’ll take care of it," you answer. "Yeah, and I’m gonna have to talk to him, just not as nice as you plan to do." Asking, you look at Dan and pull up an eyebrow.

"MC you don’t have to pretend like you don’t care about anything. You have changed slightly, become paranoid and much more careful with what you say. We haven’t said anything yet because we didn’t want to interfere, neither of us understands what’s between you and Jake." You look at the floor sad. You haven’t noticed yourself that you are feeling so bad, but if the others even notice it when writing, it will be true. "It doesn’t matter, I promised Jessy that this evening was ours, so let’s just celebrate." You blink at Dan and hit him lightly against his shoulder. Suddenly you’re hugged from behind and almost thrown to the ground. Dan can hold you just as tight as Jessy screams into your ear. "LET’S DANCE MC PLEASE" she shouts. "AUA JESSYYYY NOT SO LOUD, I’M NOT DEAF" you call back just as loud what makes her giggle. She looks at you like a puppy, pleading her hands folded. "All right, but only if Dan comes too" "What? No! I don’t dance..." "Yay" calls the redhead in between and pulls Dan and you behind her. On the dance floor you will meet the rest of the group. Richy and Thomas have put an arm around their shoulders and jump up and down to the beat of the music. They call the lines of the song.

"When I saw her Walking down the street She looked so fine I just had to speak I asked her name But she turned away As she walked All that I could say what"

Typical party music is played by the DJ. When Richy finds you three, he screams. "MCCCC" He shouts so loudly that some strangers turn to you and look at you. Giggling, you look back at Richy who just shrugs his shoulders. He and Thomas still jump up and down. Richy puts his right arm around you and encourages you to join in. Laughing you do what he wants and put an arm around Jessy’s shoulder. Jessy does the same with Dan. Dan puts his arm around Cleo and these around Lilly. And so you all stand there and jump together to the beat of the music and laugh.

"So many girls in here, where do I begin? I seen this one, I’m 'bout to go in Then she said, I’m here with my friends She got me thinking and that’s when I said Where the girls at, girls at? Where the girls at, girls at? Where the girls at, girls at?

So go get them, we can all be friends" you all sing together in the choir for "Where Them Girl At - David Guetta". Soon you realize that Richy seems to be pretty good at rapping. Even if the text is rather screamed, in real life it would certainly sound good. Meanwhile, Phil and a friend of his have also come to you. You didn’t care because first they brought a tablet with shots you all drank together. Second, Phil has a certain distance from you and doesn’t stand right next to you. Third, because you just didn’t care about anything and you just enjoyed the music and the time with your friends.

“No, no I don't endorse that, pause that, abort that Just the other day mi go London, saw that, kids down the street Paparazzi, all that Hey hey what can I say? Day day day da-day day Coming through the club all the girls in the back of me This ain't football why the fuck they tryna tackle me?"

Thomas pulls Lilly between him and Richy. The poor girl is pushed back and forth for fun while both sing the lyrics.

"Really, I pick dude at the bar like really Looking like he wanna good time like really"

Richy puts both hands on Lilly’s shoulders from behind and jumps around next to her.

"Said he had a friend for my home girl Lilly Lilly, Lilly, Lilly" Lilly looks at him unsettled and almost loses the balance because of the movement Richy produces.

The song ends and a different melody sounds.The melody of "Happy Birthday" It’s zero o'clock, it’s Jessy’s birthday. All guests who don’t belong to Jesse’s birthday are looking around confused. Dan and Thomas disappeared a minute ago to get the cake for Jessy. Jessy gets pulled into the middle by Richy and the rest of you line up around her. You’re looking confused at Richy, who took care of "Happy Birthday" being played for Jessy.

"Feliz cumpleaños? That’s Spanish?" you realize.

He nods proudly.

You look at him "Why?"

"Is something normal with us?" he asks grinning.

You’re shaking your head.

"See? That’s why Spanish"

"Can anyone here speak Spanish?"

"No, I don’t think so, but whatever"

"Idiot" you answer laughing.

People make way and you see a bright light of candles on the cake. Cleo keeps her hands on Jessys eyes, so she can’t see. The music goes out and Cleo takes the hands off Jessy’s eyes.

Her eyes get big when she sees the cake Cleo made. "1...2...3..." Thomas shouts, at the same time everyone starts singing again for Jessy, even the guests who don’t belong to Jessy sing along. Like on command, Jessy starts crying. Quickly you go to her and take her in your arms. At the end of song, everyone starts to applaud. You congratulate her, "Happy Birthday Jessy" and hug her tight. "You have to blow out the candles," says Dan. "Make a wish," Lilly adds. "But don’t say it out loud, otherwise the wish won’t come true" you warn her. "You’re so cute," Jessy murmurs, wiping away the tears. Then she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Then she blows out the candles. Then everyone applauds again. Little by little, everyone congratulates her. Even some strangers wish her well. Everyone gives the presents to Richy, who then takes them to his car and puts them in the trunk, where everything stays all night. Since each of you drinks alcohol, you and Jessy will take a cab home to her later.

And as soon as everyone wakes up, Dan Richy drives back to the club so Richy can get the car. Then you all meet at Jessy’s and have breakfast together, and then the others want to show you some Duskwood. You took a week off so you’ll be here a few more days. Arrived in the lounge Dan puts the cake on the table to wish Jessy finally all the best. "So how do we eat it now? We’re definitely not allowed to use cutlery in here" Jessy looks at us questioningly. "You’re right, that’s why the cake has already been cut, and Cleo brought a pack of napkins, which should be enough" Richy explains. After eating the cake, Jessy bought some drinks for all. Now you’re all back on the dance floor. So slowly you start to sweat and also you get a little dizzy. "I’m going outside for a minute, get some fresh air" you call out. "Shall we come with you?" Dan asks directly and looks worried. "No, I’ll be fine. I need a little rest, there must be other guys outside. And if the man without a face kidnaps me, look for me and hit him"

"Okay, but if you’re not back in 20 minutes, we’ll come looking for you," Dan warns you.

"Okay, dad, do that" you wink at him and start squeezing you through the people.

Shortly thereafter, you open the door and step out into the night.

Immediately, the cold wind hits you, goose bumps spread on your arms and you take a deep breath.

Immediately you relax a little.

Further away is a small group who smoke and laugh.

Well, you’re not alone, and even if the bouncers are still there. And the way they look, the man without a face has no chance of kidnapping you. You lean back against the cold wall and close your eyes for a moment.

You didn’t expect it to be so cold and folded your arms in front of your chest to protect your arms a little.

Enjoying the tranquility you do not notice the steps that come to you.

"Hey, there you are" suddenly sounds.

Immediately you flinch and jump away from the person.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you" Phil looks at you.

"Oh my God, never do that again" you hiss and hold your hand to your chest to calm your heart, which beats twice as fast as usual.

"All right? You’re pale.Did you get so scared?" he grins at you. "Of course, you know I’m trying to find a missing girlfriend? It can happen that one is more frightened than usual" you explain.

"Why are you out here all alone, you’re right, there’s a murderer running around, it’s pretty irresponsible of you."

"Or are you seeing the kidnapper?" he jokes.

"Haha, no, I was just warm and I needed some fresh air, and what are you doing here?"

"The same" he mumbles and brings a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of the shirt he is wearing over the tshirt.

"Any?" he asks.

Considering you look at the box he’s holding out to you.

You were just reaching for it when you saw a movement across the street, it looked like a man. You look at the street light in a flash, but there’s nothing.

"Everything okay?" asks Jessy’s brother.

"Yes, everything is fine, thank you, I do not want any" you refuse the cigarettes.

"How do you like the evening so far?"

"Very good, and how do you like it?" you answer his question.

"It’s okay, but the night is still young, so much can happen or not?" he breathes.

Oh no, please don’t.

"Uh, sure?" your answer sounds more like an overwhelmed question.

"Where do you sleep?"

"in Jessy’s apartment" you answer and try not to show how unpleasant the situation is.

"You can sleep with me too" he grins at you. "Oh, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea," you mumble and nervously rub a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why not? Do you have a boyfriend?"

You look at him annoyed.

"No, I don’t, it’s complicated, but I’m not the type for One Night Stands" you explain.

"It doesn’t have to be just one night" he laughs.

"Okay, just kidding please don’t hit me" he grins.

You roll your eyes.

"But you noticed when we wrote that I thought you are pretty" he adds.

"Phil.." Actually, you want to tell him that he should stop but you were interrupted.

"I think that were enough jokes for this night" you hear a dark voice behind Phil talking. Phil scares out and turns around. You were expecting Dan, but that’s definitely not Dan. "Wow, who are you?" Phil asks. In front of him stands a dark-clad man. The hood of his black jacket is pulled over his head. Instead of a face, you look at the face of a staring mask. That one mask you missed so much. "It doesn’t matter, but now you should stop giving MC a bad feeling" hisses the man who’s obviously Jake. "Oh, and who are you to speak for MC? She can say that by herself or not?" hisses Phil. "She can, and she certainly would, but if you had looked out for her, you would have seen that she was not feeling well. So go back inside and leave her alone. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of her" the voice sounds a little mechanical but not like the one he usually uses. But distorting a voice in the mask would also be weird. But wouldn’t surprise you either.

Instead of interfering, you’re frozen in the same place. Your mouth is open with amazement and you forget to blink.

"You are threatening me?" Phil keep provoking. He’s not a man who likes to take orders.

"Never mess with a person you don’t know, you never know what the person is capable of. I could destroy your whole life, Philipp Hoppkins. Owner of the bar Aurora. I even know the name of your first girlfriend"

Jake is a little bit taller than Phil.

It looks a little creepy the way he looking down on Phil from above and holding his head slightly crooked.

"Are you a stalker or why do you know everything about me?" Phil looks confused at Jake.

"That also doesn’t matter, but if you want to keep your bar, get out of here now" Jake’s voice sounds like a warning. "You’re really threatening me," hisses Phil.

"No, I just gave you a hint," counters Jake.

Finally you come back in the real world, you had to realize for a moment that Jake was there, he was here, he is one meter in front of you.

"Is it really you?" you breathe overwhelmed.

Jake’s head is moving in your direction and you realize he’s nodding to you.

As if Phil wasn’t there, Jake slips past him and stops in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" you immediately ask.

"I wanted to..I wanted to see if everything is okay, how you are" he whispers.

"Why? Where have you been? Are you okay? Are you safe?" the questions just pop out of you. "I’m sorry, MC, I don’t have much time. The important thing is that I was worried that you were in Duskwood so I wanted to check on you to make sure everything was okay."

"Please, Jake, can’t you stay a day or something?" you beg him.

"MC please, it’s not safe here," he whispers.

"I’m weird because I’m flirting with you, but you’re talking to the masked guy?" Phil suddenly asks.

You look at him hard and you reach for Jake’s hand.

You feel his whole body tense as you pull him away from Phillip.

A few feet away, you stop to talk alone to the hacker. "Jake, please, we can meet at the motel. I’m sure Lilly can help us, so no one can see us at the motel.Please, I have so many questions and I’m worried about you"

You can hear him sighing.

At this moment, you wish the mask away so you can see his reaction.

It’s quiet for almost a minute.

"Jake please" is your breath.

He’s growling.

"That’s not good, MC, that’s dangerous, you’re dangerous, dangerous to me," he murmurs.

Dangerous for him? That sounds kind of hot but also like an insult.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"I should have left long ago, but I’m still standing here and I feel like I’m having a heart attack. my heart is beating so fast it can't be healthy" he calmly explains. "Are your persecutors so close to you or why is your heart beating so fast?" you ask him uncertainly. "No MC that’s not the reason, I have a bit of a lead right now which is why I can be here" "Are you scared about the raven guy?" "God MC no, because of you! Because of you it beats so fast, that’s why I’m still here, because I missed you" "Ohhhh ah" you murmur and you notice how your cheeks turn red. A little moment it’s quiet between you both. "I was hoping for a reaction," Jake whispers, wanting to take a step back. before he can move, you hug him tight. He breathes in surprised Again, you realize how he’s tense.

But shortly afterwards he relaxes and also put his arms around you.

His smell draws into your nose and clouds your mind. It feels as if all the problems and every difficulty just falls from your soul.You automatically feel safe and secure. It’s like a switch in your head flipping.

A few moments ago it was cold and now you are warm, cuddly warm and beautiful. And you know right away that you want that feeling that you’ve only felt with Jake, forever.

Forever in your life, forever by your side.

Him by your side forever. This hacker whose face you don’t know, whose identity you don’t really know, who is wanted by the government, this hacker has sneaked directly into your heart with his sweet nature. And that’s where you want to keep him.

"I missed you too, Jake, you can’t imagine how much" you sniffed. You can’t control it, you’ve been so worried about Jake that you’re just relieved to see him. In addition, you have already drunk one or the other glass of alcohol today and therefore your senses are already a little foggy. "Are you crying?" you hear Jake asking. You press your head firmly against his chest and hide your head under his arm lying around your shoulder. "No," you snifed again. "Yes, you do, look at me, Mc," he breathes and pushes you away to look at you. "Why?" he asks quietly. "I was just worried! I didn’t know until just now if you were caught by the government or if you were safe. And now you’re standing in front of me." "I’m sorry, really, but I also have to think about you, if they catch me, and find everything, you’re in danger. You hacked with me. Not all of this, but simply trusting a hacker and hacking a stranger’s cell phone is also illegal" he explains objectively. "Couldn’t you at least get in touch once? So much has happened where I needed you.I know you can’t help it. I don’t want to blame you, but I was alone. The others from the group were by my side but that’s not the same as with you. Besides, Hannah and I don’t know each other. I can look at everything objectively and at the same time have to consider whether Jessy or one of the others is acting out of emotions. I talk too much for that you don’t have time I’m sorry" your voice sounds desperate.

"You don’t have to be sorry, I have to be sorry. And I want to protect you, that’s all I care about, that you’re safe."

Overwhelmed by what you’re supposed to do, you push your body back again Jake's. "Your action with #IamJake helped me, by the way.For that I thank you and say thank you to Lilly.That means a lot to me." he murmurs. "Jake, all these people, they don’t know you, and they’re behind you. Behind you and me, behind Hannah. Please, Jake, come back to me." "MC...I’m sorry, I can’t" Jake’s voice sounds desperate. Just like yours, you’re desperate, you don’t know what to do. There’s only one logical reaction for you before you let him go again. Now all you have to do is hope everything goes well. Breath in, breath out. Without warning you put your hand on the mask and pull it up only so far that you get to Jake’s lips. You quickly stand on your toes, reach for the collar of his jacket and pull him down to you. Before he has a chance to move, you press your lips on his. If only you could see his reaction now, his face. Or maybe read his mind. A flood of happiness hormones is spreading through your body. Even if Jake doesn’t move, this is the best moment of your life. His lips feel soft, soft and perfect for yours. If you haven’t been in love by that point, you’ll be in love by now. This sad conversation was perfect in your eyes, even if it was sad, it was with Jake. Just as quickly as you kissed him, you break away from him. God, did you really do that? Why you do that? You see the kiss as a kind of goodbye to him and you just want to get out of here, away from this place. You didn’t know if he wanted to. In addition, he had a mask on. Actually, that should be reason enough not to kiss someone. Before you can run,Jake grabs your wrist and before you can react, you feel his lips on yours this time.

He’s kissing you now.

HE KISSES YOU.

HE KISSES YOU!

Quickly he pulls his head away. You look at him, the mask is gone, he holds it in his hand. "God damn it," you murmur and wrap your arms around his neck. Desperately, you kiss him again. Desperate to see him next time, whether you’ll ever see him again. Whether he will be free or whether his persecutors will catch him. You don’t know all that things, and you don’t know how to go on, how you can ever live normally. Yes, quite dramatically to think like that but this boy has something about himself that immediately captured and fascinated you. But what you just said about the best moment of your life was a lie. This is the most beautiful moment in your life. Because this time, you both want it, without being surprised by the other, you kiss like there’s no next day. As if all you have is this brief moment between you, this moment of uncertainty about the future, about everything. Because actually, this has been your life for months, but you love it, you love the people you’ve met. Hell, even Lilly made you like her.

You have become a team, and Jake is also part of that team.

You were like a family, and right now you’re planning on moving to Duskwood as fast as you can. You want to live here, with your friends, with the best friends you can have, they’re so different, but they’re still the same. You want to live here, with Jessy, with Cleo, with Richy, with Dan, with Thomas, with Lilly, also with Hannah, and of course with Jake. You knew from that moment that is the best decision of your life would be. A life full of joy, happiness and great people around you until you’re old, and even then. As in a book "To Death and Much More" But this is not a book but the real life, the life where you’re kissing a man who’s perfect for you in your eyes. Your lips move perfectly to each other as if it were the only thing you ever did, the only thing that ever counted. Admittedly, you didn’t expect Jake to be able to kiss so well.That sounds mean, but he seems to have been lonely the last years. Even if it took you a while to kiss, you are breaking away from each other far too quickly. You feel drunk, whether it’s alcohol or the kiss, you don’t know, but probably both. Your knees tremble from the adrenaline flowing through your veins. Your heart is racing and your hands are shaking easily. "Tomorrow at the motel. Please ask Lilly to find a solution where we will not be seen. And be careful the rest of the evening, and please stop drinking so much alcohol. I taste the tequila." Without waiting for your answer, he turns around and disappears towards darkness. He puts the mask back on while running. Like in a movie, a car gets hit and makes a full stop right in front of Jake. He opens the door, gets in, closes the door again and the car drives on. And again, you’re standing there with your mouth open, staring at Jake. "Oh, my God" you hear a woman say. Your head turns in the direction of the voice, you look into Jessy’s eyes. She stares at you and holds a hand in front of her mouth.She seems to be more shocked than you. You’re being stared at by all your friends standing next to Jessy and just as overwhelmed as you are. Right, Dan wanted to come after 20 minutes to see if everything was okay. Like trapped in a dream, you turn your head back to the spot where Jake stood with the car seconds ago. Jessy comes running at you. "Was that HE?" she asked immediately. "MC’s all right with you?" you hear Dan worried. They keep asking you things, but you just can’t answer. "Tomorrow at the motel," you hear Jake’s voice in your head. Jessy waves her hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Tomorrow at the motel," you hear his voice again. "MC Hello? Can you hear me?" "Shit, tomorrow at the motel, but what time?" you call out. "MC talk to us now" Lilly begs. "Lilly I need to talk to you! You need to give me a motel room.Is there a back entrance? Where someone can come into the building secretly? A hidden room? I’m also satisfied with a storage room" the words just flow out of you.

"Um, yeah?" Lilly looks at you confused.

"Okay, I need a plan, explain the way, and best time, do you have to work tomorrow?"

"No, I have free time, but tomorrow, Miss Walter will be there. And since the body appeared and Hannah is gone, we have almost no guests. Nobody wants to go to Duskwood at the moment" she explains. "That’s perfect, okay, explain to me how to get in without anyone seeing you" you demand.

"Tell us what happened first" Jessy tries to make you talk.

"MC, that was Jake, wasn’t it?" Dan calmly asks you.

"Yes, yes, he was, and I’ll meet him tomorrow" you said excitedly. No one say a word. Jessy has hiccups. "You’ll have sex tomorrow" she giggles. At the same time as Lilly, you call Jessy’s name as a warnin, she just twitches her shoulders and drinks a sip her glass. You are sighing. "Dan? I need a glass of whiskey now"

I hope you enjoyed it🎭🌹.

Masterlist

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #duskwood jake #duskwood Jake x player #duskwood Jake x mc #everbyte game #everbyte duskwood #duskwood fanfiction

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thosemeddlingsims · 3 years

Text

It has been quite a while since the last time I wrote a fic. Well, anyway here's a follow-up to caught and flustered and I guess would lead on to Stake Well Done or Death and Thereafter, or whatever timeline they’d end up going on a road trip and then stumbling into a mystery in some way. This might be my last attempt in writing lengthy pieces for some time unless something pops in my head again and get my groove on.

Anyway, hope y'all would like it. Even though I really didn't know how to end it. 😅

stuttered.

RATED K+ / T (?)

“You two should talk this out…”

Dawn’s words echoed in the recesses of Daphne’s foggy mind. It was easier said than done. It has been a little over a week since then and just a few days after the kiss that Dawn witnessed. And with all that time, she has not even built up the courage to talk to Fred.

“Daph…? Daphne? You ok?” Her contemplation was abrupted by a concerned yet familiar voice. She quickly blinks, only to realize that she has been sitting right across the booth from her bespectacled friend, Velma. She looks around, remembering that they have been sitting for quite some time in their regular coffee shop, Shakey Joe’s. They were waiting for the boys and Daphne had wanted to catch up with Velma after her trip from Washington. But instead, she blanked out on her and feels guilty about it. She softly shakes her head and forces out a smile. “I—I’m fine Vel. Sorry.”

“You sure?” Velma cocks her head and knits her brows. It was obvious that Daphne was not being her normally bright and cheerful self. “I don’t even think you’ve been listening to what I have said for the past few minutes.”

“I guess I’m just tired Vel.” Daphne fakes another smile and sinks herself into the leather cushion on her side of the bench. “Dawn got me really worked up with her fashion line. It’s been hard trying to get some sleep.”

Velma nods in response, unsure if she did believe her. It was not entirely a lie but between catching up with her sister’s exhausting demands and her compromised relationship with Fred, she is not ready to tell her about the latter. A sense of uncomfortable silence started to trickle in the atmosphere but fortunately (or unfortunately), it did not last that long. A soft tinkling of chimes alerted the business space of someone coming in.

“Hey look, the cavalry has arrived!” Velma waved towards the direction of the entrance. Daphne turned around to look as well, secretly hoping it was some other patron or customer Velma knew coming in. In her head, she was willing to prolong the inevitable. She has not played out what she would do or say once Fred arrives. But it was them, the boys.

It felt like a scene from a movie; there he was, soft sunlight shining through the door over him, strolling a few steps behind Shaggy and Scooby. His hair, golden and perfectly coifed. His smile beaming and his eyes, filled with warmth. He was wearing a crisp blue polo shirt and a pair of casual denim jeans. Why does he walk like that? This isn’t the first time he walked in through that door. Why are you seeing this now Daph, why?

“Like hel-lo gang!” Shaggy greets the girls with a wide smile as Scooby jumps onto the bench beside Velma. He continues to acknowledge them with a snobby plummy accent. “See you’ve gone ahead with beverages already. Like, let me pick us up something to eat then.”

Velma and Daphne looked on as Shaggy straightened his posture and headed towards the counter. What could he possibly be so happy about?

“Hey Scoob, what got Shaggy so upbeat?” Velma almost echoing Daphne’s thoughts. “He is aware that we’re off to some haunted place again, right?”

“Ri ron’t know…” Scooby shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. He would like to assume it was because of the food convention they have attended but a few days have already passed since then. “Ri ron’t remember.”

“Apparently, Shaggy got an invite to some celebrity chef’s dinner party.” Fred intrudes, smiling softly as he rested his right hand snugly into the pocket of his jeans. “They bonded during that food con they attended. The chef was impressed with Shaggy’s way of eating food.”

“Jinkies…” Velma clearly impressed. “Is that right?”

“That’s what he said.” Fred cocking his head towards Shaggy’s direction then sits down comfortably on the empty space beside Daphne. Her breath hitches and immediately withdraws to the corner of the booth. She hopes Velma would not notice but her quick glance at her would say otherwise.

Fred felt it too and he turned to take a gander at Daphne. “Everything alright Daph?”

“Yah.” Nope. Definitely not.

“I’m fine. I just told Velma that.” She waves a hand towards Velma. Not really and I’m pretty sure Velma doesn’t believe me.

She drew in a long breath, rested her chin against her right hand, and faked a smile for the third time. She avoids their gazes and looks up at the ceiling, but she could not keep it there. She looks back at her friends, unconsciously locking with Fred’s ceruleans. Nope! Look away! Look. Away.

“So… what about this case guys?” She changes the subject, rubbing the back of her neck. “Is it a missing person or another real estate agent trying to cheapen the price of the land?”

“Daph… you’re the one who took the call.” Velma shoots a side-eye at her. “You should be the one briefing us with the case.”

“Jeepers Velma!” Daphne huffs out a single laugh and shakes her head disapprovingly at herself. “You’re right. I remember it being some –”

“Hold that thought.” Velma interrupts standing from her seat. “I need to tell Shaggy not to get me one of those super-sandwiches he always gets us. Wanna come with me Scoob?”

Daphne furrows her eyebrows looking up as Velma leaves with Scooby and notices Fred was also looking in their direction. She pauses and stares down the back of his head, admiring the strands of his fine blonde hair sitting on the base of his nape. She is reminded of the sensation of having his hair between her fingers and the low growl he made when she mussed it up. But then he turned to face her, she quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She took in a sharp breath and felt heat creeping through her cheeks.

“Daph?” The way he said her name sounded syrupy and sweet, but he has always said her name like that. C’mon Blake, he’s just concerned. “Are we ok?”

For some unknown reason, that question hit her like a cold splash of water. She felt speechless. Are we ok? Is there a ‘we’? What does he mean by ‘are we ok?’

Fred gazed at her with concern as he tried to reach out to her hand that was softly resting on the table. She wanted to flinch it away, but her mind (or maybe it was her heart) dictated to welcome the warmth instead. She did not move and watched his hand over hers, avoiding his eyes at all cost. And there it was again, that bolt of electricity that has been flowing through them every time they would have skin-to-skin contact. Her breath hitched. “Hey Daph… What’s wrong?”

“I...” she sighs deep with frustration. “I... I just –” C’mon Daph, spit it out! Don’t stutter!

“Like ok guys…” Daphne immediately jerks her hand away from his. Shaggy interrupts their moment, much to Daphne’s relief but to Fred’s dismay. He has been wanting to talk to her, but he was not sure how to start it off either. Shaggy, unaware of what is going on between the two, was carrying trays filled with piles of baked goods with a satisfied smile plastered on his face. Scooby and Velma, each carrying separate trays, following close behind. “Like Velma has your food. And if I do remember correctly, Daphne’s go-to is like, the ricotta and honey tartine and like Fredster, the meat lover focaccia roll. Right?”

“You’re right, Shag. Thanks.” Fred smiles thinly as he laid the tray down on the table. They should thank Velma that Shaggy did not get them some overloaded hoagie. But Fred suddenly did not have the appetite to eat, nor did Daphne. And if they said anything, Shaggy would likely not stop lecturing them for skipping a ‘meal’ he paid for.

They spent the rest of the morning going through the initial information they have on the case. Unbeknownst to Fred and Daphne, Velma has been observing the building-up tension between them. Daphne did not really say anything about what happened during her week-long absence, aside from working with her sister Dawn. And this has been the first time she has seen Fred since she came back, so there was no chance of really catching up with him. If she knew any better, he would just say that he was working on the Mystery Machine.

Velma could see Daphne’s brows furrowed with an undecipherable expression painted in her eyes and her food was still untouched. She also noticed that Daphne has been trying to keep a distance from Fred for the past thirty minutes. She stole a look at Shaggy as well, observing if he was also noticing something different about the two. But she did not want to pry anymore, she would let Daphne tell her once she is ready. After going through the case and the specifics of their trip, they left heading off to do separate errands before going home to pack the things they would need for tomorrow.

But Daphne contemplated staying behind for a bit.

“You two should talk this out…”

It was eating at her. Maybe without realizing it, she would implode with this thought ringing through her head over and over again. She bid the others goodbye, coming up with a stupid excuse to go the other direction. She turns around thinking Fred was still behind her, only to realize he has already gone ahead. She takes a few steps towards the parking area deep in thought. Maybe it’s easier not to bring it up for a while, right?

---

Fred stands on the pavement beside the Mystery Machine. He knew he would not get the chance to talk to Daphne, especially now that the rest of the gang have gotten back from their trips. He sighs and mutters to himself as he opens the door on the driver’s side.

“Freddie?” He must have been hearing things and figured that Daphne’s melodic voice was just in his head. He was quite sure that she had left with the rest of the gang, having the van all to himself. But there was a tingling sensation running through his back like someone is watching him. He turns around and finds her standing there, timidly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Fred was not the best at reading non-verbal cues, but this was quite un-Daphne-like.

“Daph?” He said breathily, trying to catch her emerald eyes. “I thought you left with the others.”

“I– ” She stutters and gives out a soft nervous chuckle. “Well, uhm… I didn’t get the chance to answer your question earlier.”

Fred’s brows furrowed. There were a lot of questions asked in the coffee shop, most of them were about the case, which one of them could it be. “Uh… what question?”

“‘Are we ok?’” She avoids looking at him and Fred’s mind clears. He asked that before Shaggy had interrupted them. She takes in a deep breath. “I– uhm… anyway, I– I do hope that we are ok.”

“Hope? Why just hope?” It confused him. It seemed like there has to be a certain requirement for them to be ok. He would not know what to do if they were in a misunderstanding. He could not stand having the thought of him and Daphne being on bad terms. And she just stood there silently, keeping her eyes affixed elsewhere.

“Uhm…” She bites her lip, warily approaching him. “I feel like we’ve left off on the wrong foot the last time you came to visit.”

“Daph… I’m sorry I kissed you.” It was not the response she needed to hear. She was not asking for an apology, she just needed to clear the air. She wanted to assure him that she does not hate him for that or for anything ever. They have gotten much more intimate than just a kiss before that, and they have not addressed that one either. She hurriedly inched closer, shaking her head and reaching out to cradle his face between her palms. “You shouldn’t be sorry about that. I– I shouldn’t have asked you to leave so... uhm... frigidly.”

He closed his eyes and reveled at the warmth of her hands on his cheeks. He was trying his best to contain the heat that was building up in his chest. And yet, he struggled and gave in. He softly clasped her left hand, lightly taking it from his cheek. She watched as he guided the base of her palm to his soft lips, planting a kiss there. The gesture made her heartbeat quicken and a fluttering sensation has started in her belly.

“Freddie…” He opens his eyes, quite aware that he has done it again, kiss her. At least, it was not on her lips again. He searches her face for some form of disapproval, but she does not withdraw her hand away from him. He lets her go and she slowly curls her hands to her chest, her eyes fixed on him. “I’m sorry again, Daph. I shouldn’t have done that. I should stop doing anything really.”

“Freddie…” She swallows a lump she did not realize that has formed in her throat. I can’t… We can’t... I’m not ready to talk. “I just said you didn’t need to apologize.”

She slowly takes a few steps back and softly smiles. “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t you want to ride along with me?” It felt like she was brushing him off again and it made his heart sink. He was hoping they could talk some more and figure out what is happening between them. It is obvious to him that whatever it is, it’s no longer platonic. It never was, to begin with, but they did mutually agree to prioritize their friendship. It was slowly getting harder to honor that though, especially with what happened between them at his place a few days back. It was his validation that maybe, she shares the same sentiment. He just needs her confirmation. “I could drop you off at your place, Daph.”

“Not today Freddie. I’m actually off to see mother. Thanks anyway.” She bites her lip as she hesitantly waved goodbye, trying not to maintain any eye contact. He stood there by the van’s door and looked on as she twirled around and walked away. It reminded him of the way she left that day; briskly and with no chance for him to say goodbye.

He sighs and whispers under his breath. “See you tomorrow, Daph.”

#tms fanfiction #💜💙 --- fraphne #💜 --- daphne ann blake #💙 --- frederick herman jones #fraphne

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You were sitting in the library, plunking away on your laptop, searching for a case. After a couple of hours, you still hadn't found anything, but your stomach was growling from hunger. You went to the fridge to survey its contents. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but Dean's last slice of pie, which you knew better than to touch, Sam's last yogurt and a few slices of moldy bread. Ugh, time to go on a supply run, you thought.

Dean was in the garage, tinkering with the Impala again. You let him know that you were running into town for some groceries, given the current state of the fridge. To your surprise, he asked you to wait while he washed his hands, because he wanted to go with you.

"Seriously, Dean? You never want to go on a grocery run, you just holler and tell me not to forget the pie. What gives?" you asked.

"Nothing 'gives', I'm just tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with my best friend, on the highway, jamming to some tunes," he smirked.

"Fine, let's go," you relented. Best friend. That's how he sees you, but you see him as something more. You've had a crush on Dean for quite some time. It's been that way ever since Bobby sent you to assist the boys on that vampire hunt all those years ago.

Dean Winchester. His sexy green eyes, sharp yet usually stubbled jawline, perfectly kissable lips were what haunted your dreams every night. For you, though, it went beyond the physical. He was smart, kind, strong, tender and had a kick-ass sense of humor. He was highly protective of those most important to him, yourself included.

When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, the only person. Problem was, that feeling was experienced by the countless women from the bar scene who happened to catch his eye. Judging by what walked out of his room the morning after, you knew you didn't measure up. For the moment, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind and focused on buying food for the bunker.

About an hour later, you and Dean returned from the store and hauled everything to the kitchen. Sam joined you shortly thereafter to help put things away. He told you and Dean that Sheriff Donna Hanscum had called while you were out. She asked you to call her back when you got home from getting supplies.

While you were putting things away, you called Donna back, putting her on speakerphone. "Hey there, Sheriff D, what have you got going on up there? How can we help?" you asked.

She went on to explain about crazy things happening in one particular house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Lights flashing, hearing something scratching within the walls, beds shaking and flying objects.

You looked at Sam and Dean to see what they thought it might be. "We think it might be a poltergeist," you remarked. "We're on our way up to see you and then we can interview some witnesses. Over and out, chickie," you said as you ended the call.

Thirty minutes later and you were in the back seat of the Impala, headed up the highway to see Donna. Every so often, your eyes would wander to Dean as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music. Occasionally, his eyes would flick to yours in the rearview mirror, but by that time, you had dropped your gaze.

You had opened your book to start reading, when you heard Dean talking about what he was going to do post-hunt. "Since we'll be in the area, I'm going to head out to that little dive bar on the edge of town. Good music, good brews and hot chicks. Awesome combo, wouldn't you say, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam was so absorbed in his research that he hadn't heard Dean at first, but you had heard him. "Hmm? What? What'd you say, Dean?" he replied.

"Never mind," Dean muttered. His eyes drifted to you in the back seat. He saw you staring out the window, arms folded across your chest, your book open, but forgotten for the moment. For a brief second, Dean thought he saw a tear coursing down your cheek, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He furrowed his brow to think that you may be upset about something. "You okay back there?" he asked you.

"I'm fine," you responded softly. You replaced your bookmark and snapped your book shut. You returned your attention to the scenery zipping by. After a while, your eyelids drifted closed, your light snores filling the quiet of the back seat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean looked back at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell by the gentle rise and fall of your chest that you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, which he didn't see very often. You were always so busy taking care of things in the bunker for them, in addition to hunting. You barely had any time to yourself, what with research, laundry and keeping the boys well-fed.

When you did get a moment to do what you wanted, you usually ended up falling asleep in your book or to something on Netflix. Then he or Sam would prod you awake long enough for you to drag yourself to your room and fall back to sleep.

He took another look at you in the backseat. Your full, pink lips looked so cute, especially when they got all scrunched up as you research through the lore books. Your honey-and-green eyes seemed to sparkle when you found some obscure fact that helped to crack the case. He glanced down at your strong, yet delicate hands folded across your chest. He imagined what it would feel like to have them running over his body. That particular thought made Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat a little.

The Impala eased into a parking space in front of the Redstone Motel. Dean asked Sam to go get a room, while he tried to wake you up from your peaceful nap. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, you stirred and as you turned your head, your lips brushed the back of his hand. This small action sent an electric shock to his system at the point of contact. Dean tried again to wake you by gently nudging your shoulder, and your eyelids fluttered open. "Hey," you said as you stretched and gave him a halfway-still-sleepy smile.

Dean chuckled. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sam's getting us a room, then we'll have to change into our Fed suits to go meet with Donna," he explained. As if on cue, Sam returned to the car and told Dean which room you all would be in.

You got out of the Impala and retrieved your bag from the trunk. "They only had one room left, with two queen beds and a couch," Sam explained as you all walked into the room.

"Oh. I guess I'll take the couch then," you volunteered, a little disappointed at not having your own space. You went into the bathroom to get dressed in your Fed get-up. The outfit consisted of a white, button-down blouse, a navy blue pinstriped pencil skirt and black high heels. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking it out, trying to add some fluff to it. A swipe of mascara, some lip gloss and you were good to go.

You looked over at Dean, who was having some trouble fixing his tie. "Here, let me help," you said as you took over. A swoop here, a tuck there and you cinched his tie in place around his neck. Being this close to Dean, you could smell his aftershave. It was so intoxicating, that you had to blink several times to keep your focus on fixing his tie. You nervously cleared your throat. "There. All better now," you teased.

Dean reached up with his hands to clasp yours and gently brushed his lips against them. "Thank you," he whispered. As you turned to get your FBI ID badge, Dean couldn't help but think of how sexy you looked, even if it was your Fed threads. Whoa, where did that come from? he silently wondered.

"You're welcome," you mumbled. Blushing furiously, you gave him a quick smile, put your FBI badge in your pocket and headed back out to the Impala. What the hell was that?!? you asked yourself. One minute I'm helping him fix his tie, the next minute he's kissing my hand?? I'm so confused, you inwardly groaned. By the time you had finished your internal monologue, Sam and Dean had returned to the car, and you were on your way to see Donna.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the station, Donna briefed you on what was happening at the house. It was a man and his two children that lived in the house where all of the strange things were occurring. His name was George Anderson, his daughter, Hannah was about 10. The baby of the family, Andrew, was about 7 years old.

You watched the family through the one-way glass. George was sitting on the edge of his chair, while Hannah and Andrew were drawing pictures in the corner. Donna came up behind you as you observed the situation. "What do you think?" she asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"Not sure yet," you murmured. "Why don't you let me go in there and talk to them? By myself," you suggested as you locked eyes with Dean. Donna shrugged and agreed, then unlocked the door for you.

You introduced yourself to George, who warmly shook your hand. Hannah immediately jumped up and rushed to her father's side, looking ready to do battle on his behalf. You reached out your hand to her for a handshake, but she ignored it and glared at you before going back to her drawing. Andrew briefly looked up at you with his big, brown eyes and then returned to his crayons.

As you and George talked, it was more of a conversation than an interrogation. You tried to put him at ease by slipping in a couple of jokes. It seemed to work, as he was more willing to talk about what was going on in his house. George even came back with some jokes of his own that made you laugh. It made Dean more agitated, because it looked to him like you were flirting with George. Fortunately, Donna was keeping an eye on Dean, which let you do what you needed to do.

You stood up to leave, then shook George's hand again, and this time Hannah allowed you to shake her hand. Before you made it to the door, you felt a tug on your skirt. You looked down and saw Andrew handing you his drawing. You knelt down to his level and studied the picture he had drawn. It looked like he was telling you about everything the poltergeist was doing in the house.

All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain in your head and a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It almost knocked you over, but you were able to regain your composure. You tried to return the drawing to the young artist, but he pushed it back to you, eyes wide with fear. You nodded at him in understanding, caressing his cheek to soothe the young boy. "Thank you very much, Andrew. I think this will help us so that we can help your family," you said softly. You handed George your business card, and asked him to call you if anything more happened.

George and his children left the station, and you relayed your conversation to Donna and the boys. For some reason, you thought Dean looked a bit annoyed with you about something, but you had no idea what. You all agreed to keep working on the case to try and figure out how to get rid of the poltergeist. On that note, you, Sam and Dean walked back out to the Impala.

As soon as you reached the car, Dean took hold of your arm. "What the hell was going on in that room?" he demanded.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, so he released it. "What do you mean, I was talking to George, trying to figure out what was going on in his house. What did you think I was doing?" you shot back.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a bit of flirting going on? Laughing and telling jokes, cozying up to the kids. Why don't you just sleep with him and get it over with?" Dean retorted.

"DEAN!!" Sam yelled.

You reached up and slapped Dean across the face. "You jackass. How could you say something like that to me? Your so-called 'best friend'?? I was trying to gain his trust and that of his children. Something of mine that you're coming dangerously close to losing," you snapped. Tears threatening, you turned and stormed back into the station to ask Donna if you could bunk with her tonight.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded. "Why would you say that to her? You know how this works. What would you think if the situation was reversed and she came at you like that?" he asked.

Dean thought about it a minute. "I would think she was....Oh Chuck," he said softly. Dean looked over at his brother, who was smirking. "What, Sam? What?" he snapped.

"I knew it! You like her. You have feelings for her," Sam said in a sing-song voice.

Just then, you and Donna walked out from the station. Dean could see your eyes were all red and puffy, probably from crying. He tried to go over to talk to you, but Donna blocked his progress. "Not now, Dean. Talk to her later," she said forcefully.

"I just want to--" he started.

"I said not now, Dean. I'm going to take her back to your motel and get her bag. She's bunking with me tonight," Donna declared.

"We only have the one key, so we'll follow you and let her in," Dean said softly in defeat. Donna nodded, and you all took off for the motel.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the motel, Sam gave you the key to let yourself in to get your bag. Dean stayed in the car, his forehead leaning on the steering wheel. He was still trying to make sense out of what happened outside of the police station. He wanted so badly to apologize to you for his accusations, that he knew you were only doing your job.

Is Sam right? Do I have feelings for her? he asked himself. He thought back to everything that's happened since the job started. From seeing you asleep in the back seat, your lips brushing his hand when he tried to wake you up. To helping him with his tie, his lips brushing your hands, seeing you in the interview room with George and the kids....to that awful accusation.

Dean looked up when he heard the doors on Donna's cruiser close. At least she's safe for the night, he thought. Sam went into the room, leaving the door open for Dean. He got out of the Impala and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam was in the shower by the time Dean came into the room.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just staring off into space. After Sam got dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you're upset about what happened earlier. Give her some time to cool off, it'll be fine. You'll apologize to her, and you'll go back to being best friends," he explained.

"That's just it, Sam. I don't know if I can go back to being just best friends. I think you were right. I was jealous of her and that guy. And she was so good with those kids, I just know she'd be an incredible mother. I wanted to be George, I want it to be our kids she's so good with," Dean finished.

At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the display showing Donna was calling. "Hey, Donna, what's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked.

Donna frantically explained that while you and she were talking on the way to her place, that the pain in your head came back. This time, you had a vision of George and the kids. Objects were flying around, and when George tried to run with the kids to the front door, a lamp cord tripped him. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious. You could see the two terrified children crying, huddled together near their father, trying to get him to wake up.

You convinced her to do a drive-by to make sure everything was okay. The closer you got to George's house, the more intense the pain became in your head. That's how you knew something bad was going to happen, unless you took action. When you got there, you bolted out of Donna's cruiser before she could stop you.

"The front door opened for her, then it slammed shut. I tried to go in after her, but it was locked. She's trapped in there with that-that thing, those two babies and their father. Sam, Dean, you have to hurry, please!" she sounded close to tears.

"On our way, Donna," Dean affirmed, already in the car. Sam had his laptop open, reading some information about George's house. "Okay, here it is. The previous owner of the house was a man by the name of Lawrence O'Donnell, who died in 1913. There have been three or four other families that bought the house after he died. They all ended up selling the house when he started to terrorize them," Sam finished.

"Sounds like old Larry didn't want anyone to live in the house with him even after he was gone. So how do we kill it?" Dean asked.

"Salt and burn, just like normal. But we have to hurry. These are different than a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. Poltergeists don't care if they have the right person. They'll go after anyone and everyone," Sam finished.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he mashed down on the accelerator. Sam continued to research until he found out where Mr. O'Donnell was buried. Finally he found it, and gave Dean directions on which cemetery to go to.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the house, you found a hiding place for the kids so they would be out of the way. Once that was done, you tended to George's head wound. The sleeve on your overshirt was torn a bit, so you ripped it off for a makeshift bandage. You told George just to stay there, that the kids were safe, but you were going to look around a little.

Your eyes started scanning the area, looking for hidden dangers. More power cords or some sharp object with the potential to fly across the room. You crawled towards the front door to see if you could open it and escape. Before you could put your hand on the knob, a vase came flying at you and you ducked just in time. It broke above your head, showering you with the broken pieces.

You shrank back to your previous position and felt in your back pocket for your phone. You managed to get connected to Donna and push the speakerphone button. But that victory was short-lived, as the phone was yanked out of your hand and went skittering across the floor.

The next thing you knew, you were flying across the room and being held in place on the opposite wall. You tried to move, but it was no use. A figure appeared in front of you, a man dressed in a Victorian-era suit and had a large handlebar mustache. His hands were inching towards you to grab your throat, when flames started to creep up and consume his body. His gut-wrenching screams filled the room, until he was completely gone.

You were no longer held to the wall, so you made your way over to the door to open it and let Donna in. She came rushing in and started to check you for injuries, but you waved her off and told her to check on George.

While the EMTs were assessing George's condition, you called for Hannah and Andrew to come out of hiding. You told them it was all over, and that their daddy was going to be okay. With tears in their eyes, they came running towards you and threw their arms around your neck. You held one in each arm, rubbing up and down their backs and whispering comforting words in their ears. You looked up and happened to catch George's eye, at which time he mouthed the words, "thank you".

The EMTs wheeled George out of the house, while Donna took one child in each hand and led them out to her car. You looked around the room, trying to come to grips with what happened here tonight. Silent tears streaked down your face as you realized just how wrong things could have gone. Among your last words to Dean were that he was a jackass and you had slapped him. If you somehow hadn't made it out alive tonight, you knew he would've blamed himself for all of it.

As if on cue, Dean burst through the front door, with Sam close behind. Dean rushed over to where you were standing, placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. Without a word, he gathered you into his arms and held you close to his chest. It was then that you gave yourself permission to be comforted and sank into his embrace.

Tears flowed freely now, soaking his T-shirt. Dean kept a firm hold on you, whispering soothing words in your ear. He softly apologized over and over for what he'd said earlier outside of the police station. You drew back a little and placed a hand gently on his face where you had slapped him. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to try and soothe away the hurt. You also hoped he knew that you weren't angry with him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you started. "I shouldn't have--" he cut you off.

"Shh, that doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad that you and everyone else is okay," he replied. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked. You nodded. He kept an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the house and over to the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Donna took care of things on her end, and the kids were reunited with their father. You all got cleaned up and decided to go to the bar to celebrate another successful hunt. You were gathered around the pool table in the back, with you and Donna playing against Sam and Dean. The first round of drinks went down pretty fast, so you volunteered to go and get the next round.

You gave your drink order to the bartender and paid, leaving a few dollars for his tip. As you stood waiting for your drinks, a man sitting next to you started a conversation. He introduced himself, and you reluctantly did the same.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he slurred.

You rolled your eyes at such a lame pick-up line. "I'm here with a group of friends, and really not interested. I just want my drinks, okay?" you explained.

"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, you and me," he continued, this time stroking a finger down your arm.

"Listen. I tried to be nice about this, but here's the deal. Get your filthy hands off of me, leave me alone, or there's going to be a problem," you seethed. By this time, the bartender had made eye contact with Donna and silently signaled that you may need some help.

Dean came walking over and snaked his arm around your waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, what's taking so long?" he asked as he kissed your temple. The guy who had been hitting on you got up from his barstool and stumbled out into the night, mumbling under his breath.

"Thanks, Dean. I tried to tell that guy I wasn't interested, but he wasn't listening," you explained.

"Eh, all in a day's work," Dean replied. Sam and Donna had also come over to pick up their drinks and take them back to the pool table. For some reason, you and Dean kept hanging out at the bar for a bit.

"You know, you should be careful," you told him.

"About what?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"That stunt you just pulled, pretending to be my boyfriend? You've probably ruined your chances of taking one of these lovely ladies back to the motel with you," you replied.

"There's only one lovely lady I'm interested in taking back to the motel with me," he said huskily. His arm snaked back around your waist, as he traced your jawline with his index finger.

You placed your drink on top of the bar and abruptly broke free of his embrace. Dean called out after you, but you kept running towards the door, out of the bar and into the cool night air. When you got to the Impala, you stopped and leaned up against the driver's side door. You tried to catch your breath, while simultaneously trying to collect your thoughts.

Dean caught up with you and was moving in towards you again, but you put your hands up. "Wait, Dean. Just a minute," you said.

"I don't understand. What just happened back there?" he asked.

"Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," you answered. "First, I hear you talking to Sam about picking up chicks in the bar. Next, you kiss my hand after I'm done fixing your tie, then you get upset at how I handled the witnesses. You're killing me with these mixed signals, Dean!" you exclaimed.

On a softer note, you continued. "You and I have been best friends for a very long time. But, Dean I have to tell you something....I'm in love with you," you blurted out. "I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your--" Dean cut you off by closing the gap between you and crashing his lips against yours.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Sorry it took me almost too long to figure it out, but I'm so glad I did," Dean replied softly. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, moving hungrily as if your lips were his last meal. Then he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, earning him a gasp of surprise from you.

"Dean?" you whispered as his lips trailed a series of kisses all over your neck. "Yeah, darlin'?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you think maybe Sam could stay at Donna's place tonight?" you asked. Dean stepped back to pull out his phone and sent Sam a quick text. "Done. Now where were we?" he grinned as he dipped his head to reclaim your mouth.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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howlingmedic · 4 years

Text

Coming Home

A/N: First of all, this is my first fic in about a year. It’s all the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written. On top of that, it’s un-betaed, so it very well may suck. Let me know if it’s worth continuing. I’ve got 13 chapters in some form of completion, so there’s more if you want it!

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Warnings: angst in this chapter, possible later smut

Chapter 1: Just A Phone Call

Some pieces of news you expect and can brace yourself for ahead of time, but some come out of left field and hit you a ton of bricks. Then there’s some that, no matter how long you’ve seen them coming, hurt like hell and knock the air of your lungs. This call was one Steve had been expecting. One he and Bucky had seen coming after there was no trace a week into the search. After two weeks, Steve had started flinching ever so slightly when his phone rang. After three weeks, he almost wished they would just get it over with. Not like it would change what he was doing, it would finally get the inevitable out of the way. Now, 37 days into the search, the team assembled by Nick Fury to search for The Nightingale was calling the mission a failure, and she was being declared Missing In Action and presumed to be dead or a Prisoner of War. Somehow this piece of news being delivered so officially and professionally, instead of how he had expected Fury to - like a goddamned friend, which was how Steve had come to view him - made it harder to stomach. His shoulders sagged as the air was ripped from his lungs. His hand holding the phone dropped from his face, and he stopped pacing the exterior of the facility. His head turned and stole a glance over his shoulder towards the spot he had so often lain with Allie before, where Bucky was now doing what he did in most of his free time - meditating. Steve expected it was the brunette’s only way to escape the sheer terror that he himself had begun to feel numb to these days.

With a hard swallow, Steve brought the phone back up to his face. “Yeah, I’m here, Fury. I just needed a second,” he said in response to the muffled sound he had heard while he had the phone away from his ear. “This is my fiancée you’re talking about, after all, not some agent I’ve barely met. It’s a little different,” he added far more apathetically than he had expected the words to come out. He sounded more like the Captain Allie had worked so hard to get him to leave at work than himself, and Steve suddenly realized that he wasn’t sure the last time he had let that persona go, at least not when he wasn’t having yet another ‘bad night.’ Another night he spent with his face tucked into Bucky’s chest and breaking down, or another night spent chain-smoking on the patio, or, the worst of them, the nights spent screaming in his sleep. Those always ended in him breaking another dozen punching bags in the gym.

Steve blew out a long, slightly unsteady breath through his nose, compartmentalized his realization, and tried to put his thoughts into some kind of useful order. “Look, you know what we’re both going to have to do. Just - we’ll be back. One way or another, we’ll come home. I’m just not sure when, but we will.”

“Christ,” was all Fury answered him with for a moment, and Steve could hear the rustling of papers on his desk before the older man continued, “we can’t afford to lose all three of you, Rogers.”

“Respectfully, sir, we can’t afford to lose her, and you gave up on her. We haven’t. We won’t tie up any additional resources until we have something concrete, but we also won’t be available for missions,” Steve answered as levelly as possible, but the frustration and anguish couldn’t be extricated entirely from his tone. He was about to continue when Fury cut across him.

“Rogers, I can hear you starting to put together some long-winded explanation, and I’m going to stop you there. I don’t officially know shit about this. You’re going to be declared MIA, as is Barnes. I’ll keep any authorities off your asses, but don’t do anything else that’ll bring them down on you and try to leave me out of this, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve muttered. “Look, I gotta go tell Buck… let me notify the team, and then we’ll be gone. I gotta do this.”

“Understood. Do what you must.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t fucking thank me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Click. The line went dead, and somehow the few-hundred-meter walk to Bucky felt like miles. The reality of their situation began closing in around him. It stole the air from his lungs as the phone call had. It was the same feeling as a swift punch to his side. The same as when Allie forgot her strength and threw him onto the mats, but somehow that was different. Maybe it was the giant grin that winning a sparring session would leave on her face or the gleeful laughter dancing through the air shortly thereafter that made landing on his back at her hand so much less painful. Left his brain supplied, and Steve cursed under his breath. He couldn’t give up before he even started.

With a sigh, he knelt beside Bucky and lightly clapped a hand over his left shoulder. “Baby, can you open your eyes? We gotta talk,” Steve whispered as lightly as his constricted throat would allow him, and he hoped his fear and heartache didn’t reach his voice too clearly, at least not yet.

“Don’t say it,” Bucky mumbled as his eyes slowly peeled open, squinting against the midday sun.

“They haven’t found anything concrete,” Steve started gently in a desperate attempt to quell the most immediate fears before sitting down and taking the other man’s hands in his own, “But they’re declaring the mission a failure. Allie is being listed as MIA and a possible POW who was likely killed in action. They’re bringing the agents home to move onto other projects.”

“Fuck.” It was a one-word answer that sounded like it had been punched from his lungs much as the air had escaped his own far too many times in the last few minutes. It also encapsulated most of Steve’s feelings on the matter. He couldn’t quite grasp the reality of it all either. The fact that the organization they had entrusted their lives with was just abandoning her felt surreal to him.

“We’re not gonna accept this? I mean, we’re going after our girl, right?” Bucky’s words sounded so hopeful yet hesitant that Steve felt his heart crumble. The mere fact he felt the need to verify they would find her hurt every fiber of Steve’s being.

“Yeah, babe. We’re going after her. We just gotta let the team know what’s happening and that we’re leaving off the record,” Steve explained and then set into explaining the agreement to which he and Fury had come.

“So, we’re on our own?”

“Yeah, we gotta do this on our own.”

“No team?”

“No team.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Pretty much.”

“We can’t technically stop them…” Bucky trailed off, and, for the first time, Steve saw hope in the other’s eyes.

“No, not technically,” Steve mused, drawing the words out, and his brows furrowed as he took a moment to ponder the logistics of how they could help without breaking their terms with Fury. “But they can’t refuse any mission they’re assigned to, so it’s gotta be off the books,” Steve added, and he held his breath until he saw that the hope shining in Bucky’s eyes didn’t die.

“And when have any of them backed away from going off the books, Stevie?” He asked with an honest to god smile, and Steve smiled back at him. Bucky had a point. Steve shook his head and laughed in disbelief.

He pulled out his StarkPhone. “Friday, call a team meeting on the roof in 10 minutes. Mark it a Code 1 Emergency. Tell everyone to make sure there are no transmitting devices on them that can be tapped.”

“Copy, Captain. I’ll transmit the message.”

“No, Friday. Make sure they know this is Steve asking, not Captain America. I can’t carry that mantle for what I’m about to do.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure to tell them it’s Steve requesting their presence. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, actually, ask Tony if he’s got a jet we can borrow?”

“I’ll be sure to add that to his notification. Anything else?”

“I think I’m alright, Friday, thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve let out a deep breath, laying his head on his partner’s metal shoulder. “Well, I guess we better go pack,” Steve mumbled as the numbness settled back into his soul. The rush of realizing they wouldn’t be alone was short-lived. It meant he had a whole new set of plans had to draw up in his mind and new factors he had to consider. He was already becoming the Captain again, even if he knew that was precisely the kind of behavior Allie would yell at him for most if she were there. As much as he knew he needed to let himself feel the fear and anguish from Fury declaring the mission a failure, numbness was the far easier option.

“Doll, we’ve been packed for the last 30 days - soon as we knew we were probably gonna have to do this on our own,” Bucky pointed out as his metal hand reached up to stroke Steve’s hair gently, the sound of his voice pulling Steve back from his thoughts. “We just gotta put on our uniforms and commandeer a jet, but I don’t think Tony will mind much, no matter how much Allie frustrated him by making tools disappear from his lab.”

Steve barked out a startled laugh and shook his head. He had almost forgotten about the times he would come home to find Allie lying on the couch, idly flipping a screwdriver in her hand and the way she would just flash him a smile and shrug. She would laugh and throw out some offhand comment about how she needed to slow Tony down to make him think about what he was doing. It would always be a bit too nonchalant to comment on, and he had learned to accept it and her mischief she wreaked about the tower. It was also easier than running the tool back downstairs and then coming back to the apartment simply to find it back in Allie’s hand as a smirk graced her features, though hearing that tinkling giggle fill the air did have its bonuses. She would always explain that it was for Tony’s own good, forcing him to sleep and the like, but he always suspected there was more to it than that. Something to which he wasn’t privy. That had never bothered him, though. He knew there were likely always going to be things he didn’t know about Allie’s life, just like there were things he couldn’t share with either her or Bucky. They all always understood the essential pieces, which was all that mattered at the end of the day. Maybe that one had simply been because she enjoyed messing with both him and Tony. Steve decided he would have to ask her when they found her.

“You wanna brief them in or out of uniform then?” Steve asked and lifted his head to face Bucky.

“Out. We’re only taking our uniforms cause they’re body armor, right?”

“Yeah, basically,” Steve mumbled with a noncommittal shrug.

“Hey now,” Bucky said gently and cupped Steve’s cheek in his right hand, “where ya goin’ on me?”

“Just… scared, Buck. We finally found our girl. The person that made the world make sense, and now she’s gone. She helped us figure out how to leave work at work, and now we’re suiting up when we’re not going to work, not really anyways.”

“Yeah, but we’re suiting up to go get her back. She won’t be upset with us for that. She’ll understand so long as when we make it home, we leave the walls we’ve put up behind, alright?” Bucky explained so tenderly and simply that Steve was stunned he hadn’t seen it himself.

“Let’s go tell the others what’s up, and then let’s go get our girl.”

“Alright, Stevie. Alright,” Bucky chuckled and hauled them both up off the grass. Somehow being held by his partner, the task at hand felt more manageable - both immediate and long term - than it did when faced with the prospects alone. This was something Steve knew they could do. Then again, there was no option to fail.

#Bucky x reader #Bucky x Angel!Reader #Steve x reader #Steve x Angel!reader #stucky x reader #Stucky x Angel!reader #hurt and comfort #angst #eventual fluff

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sceptilemasterr · 3 years

Text

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 1, Scene 10 - New Routine

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Fiora and her friends settle into their routine as Penderghast students.

Previous Scene: Theory and Practice

Masterlist: Link

INT. PENDERGHAST CAMPUS - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - DAY

MONTAGE

Some time later, Fiora and her friends sit in Dr. Religast’s Stoicheal Theory course once again. Dr. Religast points to a diagram of a human body with an illuminated elemental symbol in the center of it.

DR. RELIGAST: ...as stoichi is innate in all things, so too is it innate within ourselves. Innate stoichi can be divided into three base components. Can anyone describe these for me?

Beckett’s hand launches up as usual, but Fiora is only half paying attention. Shreya whispers something in her ear, and the two of them giggle...

* * *

In the same auditorium, another professor named DR. RALLAH teaches History of Attuned Society. She is an older woman with a severe face and a flat, droning voice. Fiora practices with a small votive candle beneath her desk, trying to coax the flame out toward her hand.

DR. RALLAH: ...during this time Attuned still lived side-by-side with Attuneless societies in the Archikial Realm. While the two groups had known of each other’s existence prior to this, they largely kept to themselves; Attuned kept to themselves in scattered, small societies separated by Attunement. This changed during and after the Second Thunder War, in which several Fire-Attuneds played a pivotal role. One of them would go on to become King-Consort Dominic Rys of Cordonia, ushering in an era of Attuned-Attuneless cooperation and peace...

Zeph has fallen asleep, drooling on his desk. Shreya watches Fiora’s practice attempts with rapt attention, ignoring the professor completely. Even Beckett is beginning to look bored, his note-taking becoming slower and slower...

* * *

In Dr. Englund’s ASTP class, Fiora and the others stand in groups of two, using their Attunements to form shapes with large sources of their respective elements. At one point, while she and Shreya are attempting to shape their campfire into a floating rectangle, she briefly loses control and the flame starts to expand.

DR. ENGLUND: Ms. Luxen!

ZEPH: On it!

Zeph rushes to the scene, dragging the water from his own assignment over his head. Beckett sprints toward Fiora as well, forming his block of metal into a large blanket that he drapes over part of the fire, while Zeph douses the remainder with his water. The two of them look at each other and smile.

BECKETT: Well done. Zephyr, was it?

ZEPH: Call me Zeph. And you did a nice job, yourself!

DR. ENGLUND: Right then. Back to your assignment, all of you.

Fiora blushes, then shrugs as Dr. Englund produces a second campfire, already lit, and places it in front of them.

DR. ENGLUND: ...I have three more of these on standby just in case, Ms. Luxen.

* * *

Outside on the quad, near a patch of forest, Dr. Kontos teaches Natural Studies. The class, divided up by Attunement, watches as he brings out several crates full of tiny creatures known as Attuned Companions.

DR. KONTOS: A Companion is more than a pet. They are your friend, your ally... and also your greatest strength, if you give them the love, care, and effort that they deserve. Remember this well, all of you. We will be tracking your progress with your Companions as the class progresses.

He passes out creatures to the class: Zeph and the other Water-Atts get small, blue, fox-like creatures called Arylus. Fiora, Shreya, and the other Fire-Atts get tiny flying dragons called Lumians. Beckett and the Metal-Atts get orangish-silver froglike Companions called Gorgues. Beckett looks down at his Companion with confusion. The Gorgue croaks at him.

BECKETT: What am I supposed to do with this?

DR. KONTOS: You raise him. Raise him well, Mr. Harrington.

BECKETT: Right. Naturally, sir. My apologies.

Fiora squeals and hugs her Lumian tightly.

FIORA: Okay, this thing is cute and awesome all at the same time. I am so naming him ‘Dracarys!’

Shreya stares at her in confusion.

SHREYA: ...Does that mean something?

FIORA: Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never seen-- oh, right, duh. Never mind. Anyway, hi, Dracarys!

Dracarys lets out a high-pitched roar, with a tiny tuft of flame emerging from his mouth when he does so. Shreya’s own Lumian floats over to Dracarys and the two start flying around one another.

SHREYA: Aww, they like each other! Well, I’m going to name mine ‘Rys.’

FIORA: Okay, now it’s my turn to ask why.

SHREYA: Rys! You know, as in the famous Tuneless queen who was the first to unify Attuned and Tuneless? Kenna Rys? ...Please, I’m sure Dr. Rallah must’ve mentioned her at some point in class!

FIORA: You’re telling me you actually pay attention in that class?

SHREYA (laughs): ...Okay, no. I read a novel about them when I was growing up, that’s all.

FIORA: Alright, that makes way more sense.

SHREYA: Come here, Rys! That’s a good girl!

She hugs Rys, who snuggles happily into her arms as Dracarys perches on Fiora’s shoulder.

FIORA: Best. Class. Ever!

* * *

Weeks pass by, and Fiora and her friends are once again in Stoicheal Theory class.

DR. RELIGAST: ...Those who have Primal Attunements are especially rare. 99 percent of all known Attuned have Base Attunements; the vast majority of those capable of utilizing Primal Forces have achieved this feat over time, rather than being born Attuned to a Primal Force. Now, the differences between...

Fiora takes some notes in between practicing with her candle under the desk, making the flame dance and form letters as Shreya does the same beside her. They spell their own names, then each other’s. Then Zeph whispers something in Shreya’s ear, and Shreya uses her flame to spell out “Bucket Harrington.” The three of them laugh quietly, and Beckett turns to see what they were all laughing at. He frowns.

BECKETT: How juvenile. ‘Bucket Harrington,’ as if...

But as Beckett turns back to focus on Dr. Religast, a faint smile forms on his face.

* * *

Beckett sits cross-legged on the grass outside as his Grogue sits on his head, croaking happily as he spits metal pebbles at insects buzzing nearby. Each time he scores a hit, he laps up the fallen insect with his tongue.

BECKETT: Grogue, would you please stop that racket?

BECKETT’S GROGUE: Ribbit!

ZEPH: Good boy! Ishi, come here!

Zeph claps, and his Arylu, ISHI, bounds happily over to him. He scratches the creature behind his ears.

ISHI: Ruff! Ruff!

Shreya and Fiora sit side-by-side, their Lumians flying around their heads as they feed them bits of raw meat, which the creatures cook with their flame breath before eating. Several nymphs and satyrs are scattered throughout the class, assisting some of the students; Aster is working with Shreya and Fiora and their Companions. Dr. Kontos walks through the group, looking down at each Attuned and their respective Companion in turn. He smiles at all of them until he gets to Beckett, then frowns.

DR. KONTOS: Mr. Harrington, I can’t help but notice you don’t seem to be applying yourself very well to this assignment. I was under the impression from your records that I could expect more from you.

BECKETT (defensively): I--

He looks down at the ground, suddenly embarrassed.

BECKETT: Yes, sir. I will try to do better in the future.

DR. KONTOS: See that you do.

Dr. Kontos walks away, and Beckett lifts his Grogue off his head and looks at him. The Grogue croaks back, then spits an iron pebble at Beckett’s forehead.

BECKETT: Heavens... what am I supposed to do with you, Grogue?

FIORA: You could start by giving him a name, y’know. Just saying. Isn’t that right, Dracarys?

She pats Dracarys on top of his head. The Lumian snorts contentedly.

BECKETT (bewildered): A name?

* * *

Dr. Rallah gives another lecture in History of Attuned Society. As Shreya and Zeph amuse themselves by manipulating a candle and a dish of water respectively, in a sort of element “duel,” Fiora peers over at Beckett’s notes. The camera follows her gaze to reveal that the notes devolve into barely-legible scribbles, then stop abruptly... as Beckett has fallen asleep. Fiora looks over at Shreya and mouths, ‘Wow.’ Shreya giggles.

ZEPH (whispering): Ha! Got you when you were distracted! I win again!

SHREYA (whispering): Oh, no you don’t. Best three out of five?

ZEPH (whispering): You’re on!

Oblivious to how little attention she is receiving from any of her students, Dr. Rallah drones on:

DR. RALLAH: ...and the Council made the decision for all of Attuned society to retreat into the Stoicheal Realm for safety. On September 9th, 1621, this decision was carried out on what we now know as the first Separation Day. Shortly thereafter, Attuned leaders engaged in a widespread campaign to eliminate any and all signs of Attuned presence in Attuneless society. This was largely successful, and by January 27th, 1623, it was decided...

* * *

DR. ENGLUND: Drawing out your own innate stoicheal energy into an external creation is more difficult than manipulating existing elements, so do not feel upset if you have trouble doing it at first. We have three weeks in which to practice this, after all!

Shreya and Fiora stand across from one another, their hands held in front of their chests as they concentrate. Dr. Englund walks past them, nodding, then continues on to Beckett, who holds his palm outstretched. A tiny film of metal has begun to form along one of his palm creases. Dr. Englund smiles approvingly.

DR. ENGLUND: A great first step, Mr. Harrington. But that doesn’t quite look like a sphere three inches across, so you’ve got a bit more work to do yet. Keep at it!

Beckett frowns as Dr. Englund walks away. Fiora gives him a look.

FIORA: Can’t win ‘em all, huh, Bucket?

BECKETT: I’ll have you know--

SHREYA: Oh! I’ve got it!

Shreya leaps excitedly as a small ball of flame coalesces between her palms. It hovers for a moment, then crashes to the ground, catching a nearby table on fire. Within a few seconds, Zeph is already there, launching a stream of water at the fire and putting it out.

ZEPH: Zeph’s Fire Control is on the scene! Wait-- Shreya?! Not Fiora? Whoa, plot twist!

He laughs, and a moment later, Shreya and Fiora join in as well... And then, surprisingly, so does Beckett.

ZEPH: Yes! Beckett, you actually laughed! I can’t believe it!

BECKETT: Well, you know, I do have a sense of humor. And it was indeed unexpected- and thus, amusing- to see Shreya being the cause of a fire accident rather than the usual culprit, since if--

ZEPH: Shh! No, no, no. Never explain a joke. It ruins it.

BECKETT: But I--

ZEPH: Just enjoy the moment! Trust me.

Reluctantly, Beckett smiles.

BECKETT: ‘Enjoy the moment.’ Yes, I suppose I can do that.

Zeph, Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett smile at one another before Beckett extends a hand to the three of them in turn, and they all shake hands.

BECKETT: Now then. Perhaps we can work together on this assignment?

SHREYA: I’d love to. Welcome to the club, Beckett!

BECKETT: ...What ‘club?’

ZEPH: The ‘Pend Pals,’ of course! Oh, and that reminds me, we’ve gotta introduce you to Griffin later. Officially, I mean.

BECKETT (muttering): ‘Pend Pals?’ Just what have I gotten myself into...?

END MONTAGE

_______________________

Scene Notes: I love writing montages; they’re fun! A little bit of worldbuilding stuff did get dropped here, so:

Attuned history! And yes, I did connect it with a familiar Choices book. Sometimes these crossovers just write themselves. As a result, this means at some point, Attuned (or at least Fire-Atts) were known to Tuneless society; Dr. Rallah’s second lecture describes when they went into hiding. (And yes, Dr. Rallah is one of those teachers who could, believe it or not, make even the events of TC&TF sound boring.)

Also, we finally get to see the Companions! Here there are only the three you’re familiar with from canon, but yes, each Attunement has its own species of Companion they’re assigned to. Lumians for Fire, Arylus for Water, and Grogues for Metal... the others will appear soon enough!

Timeline: Yes, we’re still inside the ES time jump. Specifically, Fiora’s first day of class was 8/13; this montage stretches for about three months, from 8/14 to 11/22. The Catalysts aren’t quite back from their time trip yet... but both Most Wanted end-credits scenes occur on 8/14, at the start of this montage.

_______________________

Next: The Girl in the Mirror

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 2: Know No Fear

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Before I get to the chapter here, I just wanted to say that I am so beyond touched by the response this story has received. It’s difficult to respond to various comments on Tumblr due to the nature of side-blogs, but just know that I read every single lovely thing you all had to say, and it touched my heart. This is personal to me, and to know that you are all touched by it means the world. So thank you, and onward we go!

By the time Claire found all the bedding and made the beds, she was practically faint with hunger. The fact that they’d left England at eleven in the morning and arrived here at two in the afternoon had made her forget that it had, in reality, been almost five hours since they’d been served food on the plane; and that had been no real meal. Claire had also managed to unpack some of Faith’s toys and arrange them lovingly on her bed before she decided to look up somewhere to get food. She’d heard quite a fuss over the pizza on Long Island; it was apparently the only place in the entire world that had “real” pizza. She would like to be the judge of that, eventually. There were so many different Italian places it was making her head swim. She decided to let Faith decide what they would eat since Claire couldn’t seem to make up her mind.

Claire knelt on the floor in front of the couch, which was haphazardly placed in the middle of the room at a very inconvenient diagonal. Bloody movers. Faith was humming in contentment, rocking back and forth.

“Faith?” Claire tapped her knee, but she did not look up from the tablet. “Faith.” Claire gently removed the headphones, causing her to groan in protest. “Faith! Listen to Mummy before you get upset.” Faith grabbed the headphones again, but Claire firmly kept her hands on her wrists. “Are you hungry, baby? Do you want food?”

Faith’s tune immediately changed, relenting her grip on the headphones and nodding enthusiastically, humming increasing in pitch and volume.

Claire smiled, chuckling. “I thought so. Here.” She held up the screenshots of menu samplings that she’d collected. “Do you want pizza? Or…” She swiped to the next image. “Spaghetti? Or Chinese food? Or a hamburger?”

Claire allowed Faith to take her phone into her little hands, watching in amusement as Faith scrolled between the four images, eventually handing the phone back to her mother.

“Spaghetti?”

Her humming heightened again, her hands and fingers twitching and twisting with excitement; stimming, the doctors called it. To Claire, it was just Faith being Faith.

“Ask and ye shall receive, little girl.”

Claire sat back on her heels and searched for the restaurant she’d gotten the spaghetti screenshot from. Christ, there were about forty restaurants called “Uncle Joe’s” in a four mile radius. She eventually settled on the closest one that was on DoorDash and ordered spaghetti and meatballs for Faith, her standard when it came to Italian food, and decided on penne alla vodka for herself. Gillian had insisted the Italian food here was better than in England, so she was quite excited to see for herself.

When the order was placed, she looked up at Faith, expecting her to be engrossed in the tablet again, but she was instead staring at her mother quite intently. She slapped a little hand over Claire’s screen and gave a little grunt.

Claire smiled knowingly. “Spaghetti won’t be here for another thirty minutes, darling. You have to be patient.”

She grunted in defiance, slapping the screen again.

“Hey. Be gentle.” Claire grabbed Faith’s wrist and looked her firmly in the eye. “Do not hit.” Claire unconsciously ran her tongue over the cut on her lip she’d been gifted with this morning.

Claire suddenly had a perfect idea to pass the time; that dance party she’d thought about a few hours ago. Claire smiled to herself and clicked onto Spotify, hitting shuffle on the Disney playlist. Faith’s stubborn demeanor immediately changed when the opening notes of “Under the Sea” began to play. Her face melted into that absent half-smile that Claire had grown accustomed to, and she began swaying back and forth on the couch.

Claire giggled and took Faith’s hands, pushing them back and forth, side-to-side in time with the music. Her grin widened, and she began humming with excitement again. It wasn’t long before the tablet and the headphones were forgotten on the couch, and the two of them were jumping and dancing around the living room, haphazardly avoiding the piles of boxes. Claire couldn’t explain it: Faith’s Disney obsession. She became a different kid when she watched a Disney movie, or listened to the music. Her entire countenance changed. If Claire could throw away every responsibility and every pound she owned to take up permanent residence in Disney World, just so that her daughter would always be this happy and carefree, she would do it in a heartbeat.

In the middle of Claire’s intense performance of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” Faith giggling madly and jumping up and down to encourage her mother, the doorbell rang. Claire almost jumped out of her skin and then she laughed, pausing the music.

“Spaghetti is here, lovie!”

Faith clapped her hands and hummed again as Claire shuffled around boxes to the door. She gratefully accepted the hot bag of food, mouth watering at the smell of it. She hadn’t realized how damned hungry she’d been. She inwardly panicked for a moment, realizing she hadn't at all bothered to unpack any silverware, but was relieved to find there was plastic cutlery in the bag. She made a mental note to put them in the sink when they were done instead of throwing them out in case they needed them before she found the motivation to unpack the kitchen boxes.

“Alright, Faithie! First meal in our new home! How’s that?” She, of course, didn’t answer, just kept on with her humming and hand twitching while Claire unpacked their meals. “This is so exciting, darling. Mummy is so happy to be here with you.” She kissed Faith’s forehead as she tucked a napkin into her shirt.

Claire had often caught Frank rolling her eyes at her when she spoke to Faith like this.

“She can’t bloody understand you. Why do you bother?”

Claire’s face turned beet-red with rage. “Just because she can’t talk doesn’t mean she can’t understand.”

To Frank, their daughter was dumb, as well as mute. He could not comprehend that she was a little person, despite her quirks.

No. Not our daughter. Not his.

So, Claire talked to her, despite knowing she’d never talk back, despite not knowing if she ever fully understood what she was saying. Claire knew well enough that the sound of her voice was soothing to her daughter, and that was enough of a reason to talk. And as far as she could tell, she understood quite a bit. Not as much as Claire wished, but enough.

The steaming tins of pasta were opened and Faith dug right in, moaning in pain and dropping her fork into the tin.

“Be careful! It’s hot, darling. You have to blow, remember?” Claire took a forkful of penne and blew on it lightly before putting it in her mouth. “See?”

Faith took a new forkful and heaved an enormous breath before blowing with all her strength, sending a veritable spray of tomato sauce all over the table. Perhaps Claire should have admonished her, told her to be more gentle, but she could not think over how loud she’d burst out laughing. Quite pleased with herself, Faith stuffed the entire forkful of spaghetti into her mouth, humming and bouncing as she did. If Claire was seeing correctly, it looked like she was smirking.

Doesn’t understand, indeed!

Christ…how could anyone not see how special she was?

Eventually, Claire had to inform her daughter that she was, in fact, blowing too hard, and so the rest of the meal proceeded in a slightly less messy manner. When Faith had apparently had enough, she unceremoniously ripped her napkin off and slid out of the chair, disappearing from the kitchen.

“Faith! Come back, please.”

She, of course, did not.

Claire sighed, setting down her fork despite not being quite full yet. She got up to see what she was up to, but paused upon hearing the music start up again. Faith quickly scampered back into the kitchen, Donny Osmond’s voice getting more clear with every step. Claire laughed again.

“Ah, missing the music were we?”

Faith began swaying back and forth again.

“Would you mind if I finished eating, then?” Claire sat back down, and Faith continued bobbing. “Why don’t you dance for me while I eat, hm?”

She didn’t need to tell her twice.

Faith had the choreography from the film memorized, of course, and it was the same for every song thereafter. Claire paused her eating to give hearty applause and many a “Brava!” after each song. If Claire listened closely enough, she could hear Faith’s buzzing hum morph into something that almost resembled the melody of the song that was playing, and it made her heart soar. She’d read online dozens of stories of children with autism that were completely nonverbal, but then all of a sudden they would sing entire songs word for word flawlessly. She prayed the same would hold true for her little princess someday.

Perhaps music therapy would get that out of her.

Jesus H. Christ, one thing at a time, Beauchamp.

After dinner was ended and the leftovers were sufficiently tucked away in the fridge (and the plastic cutlery was put in the sink), Claire followed Faith into the living room and was overwhelmed by the pile of boxes. She exhaled through puffed cheeks, anxiety crawling its way into the pit of her stomach.

“Faith,” Claire said, suddenly having an idea. “Would you like to sleep with Mummy tonight?”

She hummed, bounced and clapped.

“Lovely.” Claire smiled. “Let’s go look at your room first, hm? Because sleeping with Mummy will not be a permanent arrangement.”

She took Faith’s hand and led her into the room, where Faith promptly flung herself onto the bed and scooped all of the stuffed animals into her little arms. Claire broke into an enormous grin.

“I’ll bet you missed them very much,” she said. “And they missed you, too.”

Her very favorite, a very worn out Sorcerer Mickey, had, of course, remained with them and gone in her carry on. But the others--the Minnie’s, the other Mickey’s, the teddy bears, the plush baby dolls--had been packed away and shipped here a few weeks ago.

“This is your room now, lovie. You’ll sleep here tomorrow, and every night after that. But tonight is a special night. Yes?”

Claire outstretched her hand, gesturing for them to head across the hall into her own room, and Faith responded by scooping every stuffed animal into her arms and waddling out past Claire. Claire chuckled breathily through her nose and followed her into her own bedroom. She breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, this room, sparse as it was for now, was at least empty of all boxes. Faith plopped her little friends onto the bed and scrambled up.

“Ah-ah, PJ’s first, little girl.” Claire scooped her off the bed. “We’ll not be spending our first night in this bed in dirty airport clothes.” Claire dug through one of the suitcases for a fresh pair of pajamas for herself and Faith. If Claire really wanted them to be clean, she would have insisted on a shower for both of them (ever since Frank had left, Claire had always taken Faith into the shower with her; she didn’t want to leave her alone for that long). But she was far too exhausted, even if it was only six o’clock on the Eastern Seaboard. She was in no mood to fight with Faith to get clean after the day they’d had.

When they were both properly accoutered for bed, Claire scooped her up again and deposited her in bed. She retrieved the tablet from the couch, trying her best to narrow her vision to avoid seeing the Box Everest in her living room. She wondered when the hell she’d feel like tackling all that…

For now, she settled next to Faith in bed, laying on about four stuffed animals in the process, much to her daughters dismay given the loud moan Faith uttered.

“Well, I’m sorry! They’re quite the bed hogs, darling.” Claire pulled the toys out from underneath her and pushed them closer to Faith. “Now, what shall we watch tonight?”

Their collection of DVDs was far grander than the few movies that they had on digital download on the tablet, but the thought of finding them, then the DVD player, and then sitting in that room with the rest of the boxes made Claire nauseous. So their pickings would be slim tonight. Not that Faith minded in the least.

Claire half expected her to put Frozen on for the third time today, but she instead settled on The Little Mermaid. Claire smiled warmly.

“This was my favorite when I was your age, baby. I remember seeing it in theaters. Ariel was my Elsa back then.”

She allowed Faith to hold the tablet, of course, and she snuggled into her, gathering her tiny body into her arms as the movie’s opening chords began. Despite how rowdy their dinner had been, Claire had a feeling that she would not at all be fighting sleep tonight. They’d been awake a hell of a lot longer than it seemed they were, and the meltdowns of the day were enough to wear even Faith out.

Not shockingly, she was out like a light before they even got to “Part of Your World,” which disappointed Claire just a bit; she’d been looking forward to hearing Faith hum along.

Gently and oh-so-carefully, Claire pried the tablet from her sleeping hands and shut it off, setting it on the nightstand to her left. She adjusted Faith’s little body so she was properly lying down before getting up to turn the light off. Claire smoothed her unruly curls before bending down to press a kiss to her temple as she settled under the covers beside her. Again, she laid atop of several stuffed animals. Chuckling to herself, she picked them up and gingerly put them on the nightstand with the tablet.

As Claire’s head hit the pillow, she began running down the mental list of things she had to do tomorrow. Breakfast, then call an Uber to get to the dealership — shit, what the hell were they going to have for breakfast? Leftover pasta?

Scratch that. Call the Uber right away, get to a diner or somewhere else for breakfast. Faith will be quite excited to have chocolate chip pancakes. That thought made Claire smile. Then get a second Uber to take them from the diner to the dealership. Put that new Instacart to use and order some groceries so that they didn’t have to go to the diner every morning for the rest of their lives. Claire had shopped online for a car to lease when they arrived, and if everything went smoothly at the dealership, she’d be driving home in it tomorrow.

She also made a note to stop somewhere for a new SIM card and to cancel her international phone plan and start up a local plan. The thought of having an American phone number seemed strange, but also comforting. Not only did it seem to be the last step in finalizing her new permanent residence in the States, but it was also a comfort to know that Frank would never be able to contact her again.

Shit.

She didn’t plug in her phone.

Groaning in annoyance, Claire peeled herself from her daughter’s side and out of bed to rifle through her purse for her charger. When did I get so damned scatterbrained…?

Well, that was a dumb question.

The world had come crashing down on her the day Frank told her he was through. Everything seemed to spiral out of control in that moment, and every single thing she had done since then had been an attempt to regain that control. It worked, for the most part, but she still felt like she was losing brain cells by the second since he’d dropped the bomb on her.

Faith was having a meltdown. It wasn’t necessarily one of her worst ones, but it wasn’t a walk in the park, either. Needless to say, things could have been better. Nothing in particular had set her off as far as Claire could tell, and Claire was beside herself trying to get it out of her.

“What’s wrong, baby? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong…are you hurt? Hungry?” She felt her head for a fever, but came up negative. “Faith, darling, what’s wrong?”

“For fuck’s sake, Claire! She isn’t going to answer!” Frank slammed a hand on the kitchen table.

Faith shrieked and clamped her hands over her ears, her eyes wide with terror.

“Frank! Don’t do that!” Claire’s voice hitched. “Shh…it’s alright baby, Mummy is here…” She cupped Faith’s face in her hands as her daughter carried on, hands still firmly pressed into her ears.

“You know she can’t handle loud noises, Frank.” Claire tried to keep her voice level and quiet, not wanting to upset her further.

“She can’t handle anything Claire! That’s precisely the issue!”

“Do not raise your voice.” Claire was losing patience. “You’re making it worse.”

“Everything makes it worse! And what is it? What did it this time?”

“It is autism, Frank. You bloody well know that.”

“Christ, I know! I hear the word hundreds of times a day!”

“Oh, for God’s sake…” Claire’s face became hot with anger. “You have been nothing but difficult since her diagnosis, Frank. I feel like I’m doing this all alone! Why can’t you set aside your personal feelings for her? She’s your flesh and blood! How can you talk about her like this?”

Frank shook his head. “No flesh and blood of mine would turn out like that.”

Claire felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “What are you saying…?”

“I don’t…want this, Claire. I can’t do it anymore.”

“You can’t…You can’t do it? You haven’t done a bloody thing!” Her voice was near to shouting now, and Faith looked like her head was about to explode from the sheer force with which she was squeezing her ears.

“If you want to be burdened with someone like her for the rest of your life, be my guest. I’m through.”

“So that’s it then? You’re walking out on five years of marriage?” Claire stood up, leaving Faith in the kitchen and following him to the front door. “On your four-year-old daughter?”

He turned and gave her a grave, disgusting look as he opened the door. “That is not my daughter.”

Claire found her eyes welling up with tears again, as they had nearly every night since. And for perhaps the thousandth time she asked herself: How could she have been so wrong about somebody? How could she have married someone that would be so despicable towards his own child?

And for perhaps the millionth time, she silently vowed that she would do anything and everything for her daughter. God, she would walk through fire for her. She practically did. She vowed to be everything Faith needed, to fill the empty position of father, to devote every breath and every beat of her heart to raising her with love and patience. Every time she was harsh with her, and simultaneously every time she relented to her to avoid a meltdown, she felt like she was doing it all wrong. She could’ve been more patient, she could have reasoned with her instead of giving in…

But the truth was, every day was unpredictable, and no two situations were the same.

I’m doing the best I bloody can. And I always will, baby.

Luckily, her residence didn't start for another two weeks, so she and Faith could get settled, and Faith could get to know Mrs. Lickett before she had to watch her full time. The thought left knots in her stomach and a hard lump in her throat. Finding a sitter in Oxfordshire with the right qualifications had been a nightmare, and Claire had almost up and quit medical school because of it. Thank God she didn’t. Mrs. Lickett seemed more than qualified, however; it was just a matter of whether or not Faith would allow her to…well…exist in this apartment at all.

Claire absently rolled over to check the time on her phone, and she groaned audibly. 9:02. She’d been lying awake, mind racing, for nearly three hours. That was another thing she hadn’t managed to recover: a quiet enough mind to allow her to sleep. Sighing deeply, she gathered Faith’s sleeping little body into her arms, burying her face in her curls, breathing her in.

We’ve got another long day ahead of us, lovie. If you wouldn’t mind sharing some of that strength of yours, I’d quite appreciate it.

The truth is plain to see, Faith. You were sent to rescue me.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #claire randall #faith fraser #jamie fraser #frank randall

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linkspooky · 5 years

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Gogol the Clown

A member of the decay of angels, one of the few characters in the story we have seen follow Fyodor willingly rather than being mind controlled or a sycophant, an immediately loud and attention grabbing character. Nikolai Gogol has an incredible impact on the plot, despite only being around for a short time. There is a lot of deeper themes and philosophy to unravel in this engimatic character. So let’s answer Gogol’s question, just who is he?

1. The Overcoat

As an ally of all clowns I am obligated to give a more in depth look at Gogol’s character. The first clue to his true nature is the author of his namesake, Nikolai Gogol. The author Gogol had a reptuation of a dramatist and a satirist, and blended humorous and tragic elements in his story to make critiques of society therefore we have Gogol, the laughing and yet tragic clown.

His ability is named after The Overcoat a short story that had great influence in Russian Literature, as said by Dostoyevsky as “We all come from Gogols’ Overcoat.”

The story narrates the life and death of Akaky Akakievich, an impoverished government clerk and copyist. He lives as nothing more than a tool of the bureaucracy, until he decides to save up for a new stylish overcoat which soon becomes the center of his life. Akaky after fasting for months finally can afford it, and is praised for the first time for the quality of his coat, only to be robbed the next day. When he speaks with a government official and meekly asks for help in cooperating with the police to retrieve the coat, the general scolds him so fiercely for interrupting his time with an unimportant matter. Soon afterwards, Akaky falls deathly ill with fever. In his last hours, delirious, imagining himself again sitting before the general and he pleads for forgiveness, before finally cursing the general.

While Gogol, a clown who cooperates with terrorists and tries to drag down society has almost nothing in common with a punch-clock bureaucrat who has no life outside of his work, there’s an interesting comparison on how different their stories are. Almost as if Akakay is what Gogol is terrified of being, so much so he runs in the opposite direction.

Both of their stories are primarily about their own deaths, but the way they die is opposite, Gogol chooses death, whereas Akaky meets his death soon after he deviates just a little bit from the social order of his humdrum life.

If Gogol is a deviant of society, a dangerous terrorist, then Akaky is the living definition of a normal person. He has absolutely no life outisde of doing what others tell him to do His name Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin, in russian means Akaky Bashmachkin the son of Akaky Bashmachkin. Which basically makes it the equivalent of John Johnson. It communicates his role as an everyman. He begins at the story a introverted, and hopeless but otherwise functioning non-entity with no expectations of social or material success.

He basically acts like he was born to fit in a slot. His entire life consists of copying down documents, he does not do anything for himself other than what he is told.

“It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for his duties. It is not enough to say that Akakiy laboured with zeal: no, he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable employment. Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He gave no thought to his clothes.”

He ‘enjoys’ his life so to speak, but he basically lives without living. He never makes any choices for himself, or desires anything for his life. He is satisfied but only because he wants for nothing. He has no thoughts of disatisfaction, but only because he never thinks. He lives without worries, because he never takes on the burden of his own free will.

In other words as a bureaucrat he is not a person. He is a tool in the system. Not only that, but despite the fact that he is a completely harmless existence lacking any evil or bad intention at all, he is almost constantly bullied. He causes no trouble for others, keeps his head down, and does not even retaliate when he is jeered at and yet people continue to constantly push him down. Even when he is on the absolute bottom of society, he’s pushed. The only time he retaliates is when their jeers start to get into his work, at which point the mocking of him turns from humorous to tragic.

How little humane feeling after all was to be found in men's hearts; how much coarseness and cruelty was to be found even in the educated and those who were everywhere regarded as good and honorable men."

When he is asked to think for himself and change just a few words on a document, Akaky is completely unable to do it. He’s unable to have a self.

This caused him so much toil that he broke into a perspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give me rather something to copy." After that they let him copy on forever.

When he starts to desire a coat for the first time, something outside of his work, Akaky develops as a person. His self-esteem is raised and his expectations towards lief are raised as well by the overcoat. Which is why, when it is finally stolen, and Akaky is put back in his place so to speak by a much more important general he crashes back down.

"Do you know to whom you speak? Do you realise who stands before you? Do you realise it? do you realise it? I ask you!"

In the end it’s a story of someone who dies without ever living, and only ever really making one choice for himself which was immediately taken away from him as he was ordered to go back to fitting in his slot. It shows that there’s more to life than simply obeying every single order given to you. Akaky by all means lived what society might call a good life, he never caused harm, he was never greedy, he never missed a day or work and yet we see the only result of that is people continuing to beat him down without any consideration. It’s an argument of what fitting into a society entails, and how absolutely mundane human cruelty can be.

And St. Petersburg was left without Akakiy Akakievitch, as though he had never lived there. A being disappeared who was protected by none, dear to none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted to himself the attention of those students of human nature who omit no opportunity of thrusting a pin through a common fly, and examining it under the microscope.

A being who bore meekly the jibes of the department, and went to his grave without having done one unusual deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life appeared a bright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his poor life, and upon whom, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune descended, just as it descends upon the mighty of this world!

If you imagine Gogol as someone who exists in complete opposition to Akaky, trying to live a life where he makes every single choice in the opposite manner than the clown’s character becomes quite clear.

Akaky is someone with really no free will, no free thought of his own, and no uniqueness. He is always the punch line to the jokers of other people. He is so plain what you see is basically what you get with him. He has no internal world whatsoever, and no designs of life.

Gogol is a character based entirely around the concept of freedom, where freedom and his own identity, his uniqueness are the most important things to him. Which is why he dresses himself up as loudly as possible, plays the role of an eccentric, and becomes the clown.

He is a terrorist, an outsider to society because for him that is the best method of being free.

Society in Bungo Stray Dogs is after all, a lot like the one depicted in the Overcoat. A stagnant, uncaring thing, almost like a force of its own bearing down on others. Characters cannot easily move their position. Akutagawa is a stray dog, an orphan who is expected to die in the slums without ever receiving a helping hand, and the only way for him to escape that life is to become a murderer for the mafia. The poor stay poor, the weak are taken from, more orphans are not saved, the people in power stay in power in the name of an uneasy peace.

The decay of angels is a group to hasten the destruction of a society that in their eyes, is already slowly decaying away. Not much is known on Gogol’s backstory, but if the alternative choice is for him to become downtrodden on like the man in the Overcoat it’s understandable why he would be so desperate for freedom he would flip the switch and go in the exact opposite, try to destroy anything that might hinder him, break any chain that might slow him down, run away from society so fast that running away and pursuing freedom became his only true identity.

Gogol’s plan also shows how quickly society as a whole, but more importantly government bureacracy can turn on people the moment they stop fitting in a slot, the moment they ceae to be useful, no matter how much service they have given before that point. If the employees willingly give up their own humanity, the bureacracy will stop seeing them as people, as we see how quickly the government turns on the Armed Detective Agency despite all of their work before this point.

The agency is the heart of the country, the nation’s pride, and then suddenly they are not. As easy as that. Which is a good existential conundrum showing that the rules you believe in, the securirty you believe you have, the structures in place are not as solid as you think they are. The foundation can crumble at any moment, and you are not a significant loss, because you are not a person to them in the first place.

Gogol is someone who wants to be free to the point of radicalism. He deliberately disrupts the status quo, not just for his enemies but even the people he’s manipulating. He leaves the corrupt government agent alive because he does not want him to die until he realizes that he never wanted his seat in society, his power, his role in society in the first place.

“As I grew up, I opened my eyes and saw the real world and I began to laugh and I haven’t stopped since. I saw that the meaning of life was to get a livelihood, that the goal of life was to be a high court judge, that the brighest joy of life was to marry a well off girl. That wisdom was what the majority said it was, that passion was to give a speech, that courage was to risk being fined ten dollar, that cordiality was to say ‘you’re welcome’ after a meal. And that the fear of god was to go to communion once a year. That’s what I saw, and I laughed.” - Soren Kierkegaard.

If Akaky is the joke, then Gogol is so determined not to become a joke that he becomes the clown instead and makes others the joke. That society for him is not something that people live in as themselves, but rather repress themselves so they can mindlessly repeat society better.

2. The Only Philosophical Question is Suicide

“Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.” - Soren Kierkegaard

Then, what is the center of Gogol’s philosophy? If he sees society as something inherently meaningless that he longs to be free from, if the values of others are just empty ideas to him, if he acnkowledges that every role others might assume, everything they think is important is not, everything they want to hold onto forever was never theirs in the first place: If it is all meaningless to him one way or the other then why are Gogol’s ideals so strong he would die for them in the first place?

Gogol is someone who tightly controls information. He makes others play guessing games so they can think for themselves. His goal is to make others fall from their roles, and to make them regret the roles they assigned to themselves in the first place. Once again though, this is an objective, this is a goal, there is motivation behind his actions. He acts like everything is meaningless to him, that he is flippant to the world’s woes, and yet he is sharply making these critiques and satires of the society around them with a purpose. That in itself is the central question of his character. His philosophy as confusing and contradictory as it is, is easy to understand once you unravel the central question of his character.

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide... Judging whether life is or is not worth living. That is the fundamental question of philosophy.” Albert Camus, Myth of Sisyphus

Everything is a choice, and the first choice everyone makes is whether or not to kill themselves. Camus judged existence to be one that is entirely meaningless, but rather than that negating the meaning of choice rather it makes choices matter more as they define who you are. A life that has no inherent meaning is therefore, defined by the actions it entails.

“If the universe is meaningless, so is the statement that it is so… The meaning and purpose of dancing is the dance.”

Therefore a lack of meaning, of outside validation, ironically gives people more freedom to dictate their own meaning.

If the fundamental question of all philosophy is whether or not one should commit suicide, then what Gogol aims for himself is radical freedom.

Sartre's notion of 'radical freedom' said that everyone always has a choice, and every act is a free act. When people say they have 'no choice' but to do something, they are lying to themselves.

“We are left alone, without excuse. This is what I mean when I say that man is condemned to be free” (Sartre).

Sartre’s view of the world is that everyone, everyone, is utterly free. Existence precedes essence. Human beings first come into existence, then they determine their own essence by the choices they make.

There is no essence to any thing that exists. There is no pre-existent essence that makes a thing what it is. There is no essence to a human being that preexists the human and makes a human what that human is. There is no essence to being a male or a female. There are no predetermined roles. NOTHING is predetermined. There is NO fate or destiny. Humans make themselves what they are. Humans choose to believe what they do about themselves. Humans choose to believe in something called a human nature. But humans make that nature what it is by choosing to be what they are. There is no God that predetermines what humans are and even if there is a God, God made humans free to determine their own natures. Humans are freedom. I am what I choose.

Therefore if everything is free, then everything is a choice which you bear responsibility for. The cost of Sartre’s absolute freedom m of realizing our own freedom is Angoisse, or the anguish of existence. Everything is terrifyingly possible because humans are just making it up as they go along, and are free to toss aside their shackles at any time.

Because suicide is a choice, that means that choosing to live is also a continued choice that people make. If a gun is put to your head, you are still responsible for your actions, because the choice to die was still a choice available to you. It is something that emphasizes an incredibly harsh respsonsibility on the ideal of freedom, as people are no longer able to blame outside their circumstances for their own choices, it is at the same time liberating but heavy. This is the same philosophy which Gogol holds.

This idea of freedom is reflected in Gogol’s ability as well, it’s one that allows him to tranvserse space with almost absolute freedom. He can move things around at his will, as even dimmensions bend to his choices.

During their fight, Atsushi assigns him the predetermined role of a villain. As if he was a character cast in a play, rather than a real person. Atsushi himself like a striped tiger, sees things in blakc and white, often loses control of himself and blames the tiger rather than his own free will and emotions when his ability went crazy and lashed out. He is in a way the opposite of Gogol, someone who rties to chain himself down because it gives him a purpose, rather than soemone who liberates himself. Atsushi clings onto his past pain, his obligation to save others even to harm himself, and repeats those actions without analyzing their true meaning or even taking full responsibility for them.

Gogol then plays to Atsushi’s expectations of the world. His black and white, regimented story roles. In Atsushi’s mind people can only cause hurt to other people, because they’re bad people who feel nothing. He has a hard time grasping complexity, because he himself does not want to take responsibility for his negative emotions, his resentment, his anger, so he completely fails to see it in other people.

Gogol confronts Atsushi with the reality that society is not rational and acceptable to him, but rather it is fundamentally irrational and something unacceptable.

Gogol kills people, he acts as a terrorist, but his pursuit of freedom is the real deal. For Gogol, complete freedom also means the freedom to lose others, the freedom to hurt other people, the freedom to live also means the freedom to die. He accepts the anguish of existence, and the responsbility of all of his choices because to him that is what it means to be free.

He does not take orders, he chooses to cooperate with Fyodor fully as an equal, because if he took orders he would no longer be responsible for his own essence, and no longer free. He does bad things of his own free will and does not attempt to hide from the guilt, and instead frees it and takes responsibility for the kind of person he is because that is what it emans to be radically free.

He is someone completely honest with himself, because decieving himself, or lying, is something that would once again make him untrue to his own essence which he wishes to set out to define.

Which is why Gogol is honest to Atsushi, but also tells him not to listen to the words of a clown too seriously. Because what GOgol says is a heavy revelation. The extreme freedom he exists for is almost too much of a burden, because it means accountability in every single one of your actions in every single circumstance.

Atsushi can choose to live free of the stories of good and evil he thinks is meaningful, or he could continue to live bound to those stories trying to seek out meaning in them. If Atsushi let go of what other people told was meaningful, than Atsushi would have to define it for himself, which is hard for someone so desperate in validation from others they are almost entirely lacking in a sense of self. It would mean him acknowledging that the validation they constantly risk their life to seek means absolutely nothing.

He might be happier not having that revelation, to think there is still value to his pointless struggles. Camus argues that after the revelation of an empty life, our search for meaning and happiness is a moral obligation, even though in the end it is as futile as siyphus pushing a boulder up a stone. It’s labor for labor’s purpose that will amount to nothing in the end. Existence is a search for meaning in Camus’ view. A search we must undertake even though we are certain there will be no reward.

Gogol’s ultimate trick is to switch the roles that the detective agency thought were so fixed in place. They were the heroes one moment, and the villains the next, because the meaning and security they thought they had never existed in the first place.

He sets them adrift from meaning the same way that he is. He frees them from obligation of protecting others, and makes them have to survive for themselves. He presents them with the same moral dilemna that he awakened to.

Are the armed detective agency the good guys because they want to be? Or are they obligated? The same way Atsushi believes he is obligated to save others because he believes it is the only thing that will give his life worth. The detective agnecy are in a trap they 100% could have avoided if they simply made the choice for themselves to avoided it instead of acting out of thoughtless obligation.

There is one truly seriously philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Gogol appears as a careless clown, but he is actually the most responsible character in the story. He lives with his choices, and then dies with them as well to live a life perfectly defined by his own choices, himself. His death therefore, awakens the characters to the fact that they are also responsible for their own choices.

#nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol bsd #bsd meta #bungo stray dogs meta #bungo stray dogs literary analysis #bungou stray dogs meta #bungou stray dogs literary analysis #decay of angels #bungou stray dogs

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ohdearhiddles · 4 years

Text

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 4/? (Chapter Masterlist)

CH. SUMMARY: Loki tells you to be careful, but you aren’t sure what to be careful of. Meanwhile, word spreads of the inevitable fate your past flames met.

WORD COUNT: 3755

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: no warnings i think (?); This was going to be infinitely longer than what it is, but I didn't want to drown you guys in like 20 pages of words so here we are with Chapter 4! I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I hope you guys are enjoying it too x (AO3 Link)

TAGLIST: @inumorph @literally-anythin

For hours, Loki sat with you under the dazzling moonlight. You admired the way his skin seemed to glow as he sat by the window. At one point, you had moved to the small seat to sit beside him, and you listened as he read a book aloud in foreign tongues. Where he got the book, you would never know, but you couldn’t find a reason to care. The way the language rolled off his tongue with ease calmed your raging mind, allowing for peace to be pleasantly bestowed upon you.

Before you knew it, the sun was rising in the east, prompting you to arise and ready yourself for the day to come. For the first time in quite some time, you found yourself not fully dreading the day. Perhaps the presence of a god was more beneficial than you had imagined; however, part of you still understood to some degree that Loki had done unspeakable things, things more grave than you could possibly imagine. He had offered no explanation for his past actions, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. As you made your way down the stairs of your complex, bidding farewell to the God of Mischief, you were certain of one thing: Loki was a troubled individual, but he was kind to you.

“I can accompany you,” Loki offered as you basically shooed him off. You shook your head, smiling at the thought of an escort, but knowing that it would only draw unnecessary attention was enough for you to turn him down. “Do be careful, then.”

You weren’t expecting him to give up so easily, but perhaps he had recognized the fact that he had already stepped too close to the line in which he shouldn’t cross. Loki walked in the opposite direction, a green glow exuding from his body as his black clothing turned into a forest green top with black slacks. For a moment you were surprised that his outfit had changed on such an effortless whim, but then you were reminded that he was a god of many talents - the first and foremost being trickery. Shaking your head at his obvious use of magic, you turned on your heel to go on your way.

The sun kissed the horizon, golden rays of sunlight streaming into the city streets. It allowed a pale, ghostly glow to resonate off the buildings, producing warmth that melted the hearts of all it touched. Gentle smiles passed you by as your feet took you farther and farther from your home. The city was never one to sleep, nor was it one to stop and admire the sunlight. No, this city was filled with individuals who desperately needed the extra hours of work because if the city doesn’t sleep, they don’t either.

Your walk was more than pleasant, but the feeling that it wasn’t going to last was something you couldn’t shake. Every step felt like a brutal blow to a could-be perfect day. As you ascended the staircase to your workplace, you realized that every person you walked by had their eyes narrowed. The elevator was the same. At first, you thought that perhaps this was merely coincidence. Soon thereafter, you were assured that this wasn’t so.

Every person who would normally approach you with brazen smiles upon their faces seemed to wither away into corners, talking amongst other employees. Snickers and pointed fingers were directed at you from every seat in the room, and suddenly, you were very aware of Sarah, your closest colleague, and her gaze on you. When you attempted to meet her eyes, she turned away, pretending as if she wasn’t just looking at you.

Minutes later, another coworker approached her. You strained your ears, attempting to hear the hushed conversation that had everyone around you on edge. “Hey, Sarah.”

“Yes?” She spoke curtly in response.

These coworkers crowding around her were people that the two of you would typically frown upon. They were the instigators of all workplace drama, and to say the least, no one really liked them all that much - for good reasons, too. If your workplace was a high school, then the posse of gossip-loving individuals would quickly be the snarky bullies of the classroom.

“How’s it feel knowing you befriended a serial killer all these years?” One of them chimed in and you jolted in your seat.

The sudden movement caused you to bump into the glass of water you had placed on your desk, spilling the contents onto the carpet below you. As you hastily put the mug upright on a farther corner, you stood from your seat, gaining even more unwanted attention than when you had walked in. You reached for some tissues on your desk before kneeling down to place the flimsy paper on the ground. As you did so, a familiar hand aided you, laying down more durable paper towels to help soak up the moisture.

Sarah’s eyes met yours for a brief moment, and although you knew she was wary of the rumors, she quite possibly still cared about you. She had left the posse of annoying gossipers to help you. You, a person who was the center of rumors. You, a murderer trying to live a normal life.

“Y/L/N,” a voice called out. “Boss wants you in the office.”

You mouthed a silent ‘Thank You’ to Sarah before standing from your spot. With hesitant steps, you made your way to the large office that you had been in countless times before. An almost nonexistent smirk was on your boss’s lips as he shut the door behind you, proving that he, too, was feeding into the gossip. He motioned for you to sit in the chair across from his desk while he walked the short distance from the door to his own seat.

“A coworker of yours saw you getting arrested last night,” he tutted, hands folding on his desk as he looked you in the eye. “Furthermore, the police came in asking questions about you on your day off. Care to inform me as to what this is about, Miss Y/L/N?”

Just by the glint in his eyes, you could tell that this man had no interest in knowing the truth. How could he? You were seen getting escorted by a detective, and the police had already made their investigation known that you were someone of interest pertaining to a case. There was no way to brush it off.

“There,” you stuttered, “There’s been a misunderstanding. I wasn’t arrested; there were no cuffs. I just went into the station to be asked how I knew some of the victims of an old case.”

“Misunderstanding or not,” he pointed out, “It doesn’t look good for us, and seeing as though the media is on a rise about the old serial killer case pre-alien invasion, you can understand why the office is having a bit of difficulty keeping their focus on anything but you,” he stated.

“I’m sorry,” you attempted to apologize, but it came out more like a question if anything else. An eyebrow raised on your boss’s face as he stared back at you.

He heaved a heavy sigh, fingers clenching at one another as if there was a habit he needed to forget. The wrinkles on his forehead creased, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he thought of what to say next. One hand reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose while the other rubbed against his thigh aggressively.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Y/N,” he started to say. It was never a good sign when people started sentences like that because there was no way to gloss over the truth. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay home until this blows over.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up straighter. “Why? I can still work.”

The words you said seemed to plead with the man, ‘Please, let me keep this routine. Please, my sanity cannot take it if you take this away from me.’ But the unspoken words went unheard, and he held his hand up to stop you from speaking any further. You had no say; this was decided before you even stepped foot through the door. His smirk had wasted away over the course of your short interaction and was replaced with a look of disdain.

“Some of the employees, especially the males, are worried about your presence in the office,” he answered calmly. “While I may not have an issue with you being here, I can’t have over half the office on edge while working. Their wellbeing is important.”

‘And yours isn’t.’ His words were laced with the underlying meaning, weaving in and out of each word like a vengeful spirit out for your blood. Of course, you could understand the way they were thinking, and you were aware that you were far from innocent. However, that didn’t make you feel better at the fact that nothing had been publicly confirmed; yet here you were, getting kicked out of the office until further notice. How would you pay your bills without an income? Were you just supposed to rot in the streets?

“I hope you can understand,” he spoke again, voice like nails on a chalkboard. The words practically made your ears bleed. You nodded, not bothering to put up a fight to a decision that you had no say over. So, you stood up, dignity in tact, and walked out of his office.

The stares were harsh as you walked back to your desk to gather your things. Everyone’s eyes watched as you quickly pulled your jacket into your arms along with your bag and cellphone. You could hear the murmurs from around the office. They sounded like the pesky degrading voices from your nightmare the night before. All too quickly, you felt a familiar suffocating feeling growing within you. Your nightmares were practically coming true as each person who used to greet you happily now looked on with looks of contempt and disgust.

You stepped into the elevator as the doors fully opened, and when the doors were practically closed with only a sliver of the office to be seen, you heard the words, “Good riddance.”

You leaned back onto walls of the elevator, feeling the coolness of the metal seep through your clothing. Sighing, you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling as the every so often beeping resonated off the walls of the small space. The you from just a couple hours before desperately wanted to laugh in your face at this very moment. It wanted to laugh and remind you that you were not meant to have happy moments - you were undeserving of such glorious things.

Peace was not a word fit for your vocabulary. Happiness, joy, peace, and all words pertaining to such heavenly emotions were no longer fitting for you or your way of life. Fear, anguish, desperation, and all words expressing such distraught and heavy emotion were much more suited for the likes of you. And as you emerged from the elevator onto the first floor, the welcoming eyes of a few late coworkers met yours, reminding you that the minute they arrived at work, their image of you would quickly deteriorate into something short of hatred.

You felt helpless as your feet touched the pavement outside of the building. Your friends were wary of you, your work was uninviting, and the police had your face in the database in big, italic, and bold lettering. Perhaps if you slipped away in the night, you’d be able to run away. But years ago, you had told yourself that running meant you were nothing but guilty. If you hadn’t meant harm, you would not have to run, right?

The inviting sunlight suddenly felt void of warmth. It was no longer something to smile upon or allow the ice around your heart to melt. It was nothing but cold, unfeeling light.

The smiles you had passed this morning were something of the distant past, and every face you seemed to register expressed sorrow, disdain, and palpable distress. Perhaps the city, too, could feel your pain, and she was speaking your emotion into the street. It was as if New York City herself was roaming the streets, whispering stories of irrevocable tragedy into the ears of all she passed. She was desperate in herself to ensure that you did not suffer alone.

For a moment, you found solace in the fact that you were not the only person walking the streets with such a sour heart nestled within your chest. Then you were repulsed by your own satisfaction in the unhappiness of others. You breathed in, hoping to inhale sanity alone with the elements you needed to survive, but you were only met with the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka as you passed a local bar.

You walked for a while. You walked until your feet felt heavier than your heart, and you walked until your mind was so riddled with the idea of sitting down that you had almost forgotten you had any troubles at all. But then you sat down on a familiar bench in a familiar park, and your heart was heavy yet again.

The singing of the birds and the soft gentle breeze that rustled the trees was anything but calming. Songs of the birds reminded you of the music in your dream the night before. The sunlight streaming through the trees reminded you of the blinding lights that surrounded such a surreal nightmare, and the rustling of the trees sounded like muffled laughter of the demons that cluttered your thoughts. If you closed your eyes, it was only that much worse, but you couldn’t complain.

To be honest, you weren’t sure how long you sat there. It could have been seconds or hours for all you knew. The feeling of the sun had grown slightly cooler as you sat beneath it, and you couldn’t decide whether or not you welcomed the chill that overtook your body or if you resented it.

A soft fabric fluttered on your shoulders as you stared into the distance, wishing to be anywhere but where you were. At first, it felt only like any other gust of warm air encircling your body, but then you caught sit of a plaid cashmere fabric resting on your shoulders. It was warm and friendly; the feeling made you feel safe before you felt threatened. But then the question appeared: Where had it come from? You glanced around, eyeing your surroundings before feeling a presence beside you.

“Did I not say to be careful?” A familiar voice spoke, his tone playful.

You turned quickly, eyeing the god standing before you. He was still wearing the outfit you had seen him effortlessly change into as he had walked down your block, and now that you had a clear view of him, he was stunning. His hair was pulled back into a small bun and his hands were behind his back as he stood underneath the tree beside the bench.

“I was careful,” you huffed, legs crossing as you stared back at the gorgeous god.

Loki chuckled - a pleasant sound that you needed to to hear. It was a soft sound of delight; despite everything you had heard about how merciless and cruel he was meant to be, there was a faint sense of innocence and kindness within him as well. You wanted to understand the conflict that took place within the God of Mischief, the feelings within him that played catch with his morals. You wanted to know him.

If a god, or a man, had shown such kindness and acceptance to you, then you wanted to be able to do the same for him regardless of all else. This didn’t have to mean that you turned a blind eye to wrongdoings or that you condoned any of the things he had done in the past, but you wanted to meet Loki halfway. You wanted to understand his mind and be able to say that he could be redeemed of whatever he seemed to believe he fell short of. He didn’t need to suffer, and he most definitely didn’t need to do so alone.

“Then why are you here right now instead of at work?” He inquired, a gentle and cautious smile adorning his nearly perfect features.

“I left early,” you responded. You weren’t lying, and part of you didn’t want to know if you could thoroughly lie to the God of Lies himself.

“For what reasons?”

“Well,” you began to say, not knowing entirely what the answer would be either way. “My presence was considered… undesirable.”

Loki nodded, his eyebrows furrowing with a look of anger or concentration. You weren’t sure what his features held, what emotions he held towards the subject. The two of you stayed silent for a few moments as the sun began to dip below the tree line. Loki stood like a sculpture of dignified proportion, carved from the most divine shade of marble fathomable, and as you watched him for any sign of change, you found yourself admiring him more than anything else.

“Come,” he spoke suddenly, turning to you.

You didn’t protest as he motioned for you to follow him; in fact, it felt nice to be walking with a destination set by anyone but you. Loki’s steps were light, barely audible as he walked a couple steps ahead of you. His eyes were fixed on the lowering sun when your surroundings suddenly changed.

The soft rustling of the trees and sounds of bustling individuals out for evening jogs were nowhere to be found. Instead, the silent chirping of birds and distant cars filled the silence as you took in your surroundings. You stopped walking, breathless as you realized that you had somehow managed to move quite a distance without barely moving at all. The grass beneath your feet rustled as the breeze shifted in your direction, and you almost asked the god as to how he had managed to get you here.

Loki approached you slowly, his eyebrows still furrowed as they were before you had arrived here. His pale hands reached for the shawl conveniently placed on your shoulders before taking it and laying it on the ground. He sat down smoothly, patting the space next to him to indicate that he wanted you to sit with him.

You sat quickly and clumsily, attempting to find a comfy position on the earth below. Your surroundings were familiar, and after a few moments of contemplation, you recognized it as Cedar Hill.

“What are we doing here?” You asked.

Loki turned to you before looking up at the sky, “I am not fully accustomed to the ways of your kind,” he stated. “However, I believe every being in every realm has taken a chance to admire their morning star set.”

“You,” you began, a small smile on your lips. It astounded you how at ease the god could make you feel sometimes, “Took me to watch the sunset?”

“No, I simply brought you here so I did not have to look upon this sight alone.”

You laughed lightly at his words. Although he seemed to say that he was not doing this for you, it still felt like he was doing you a favor. Killing two birds with one stone you supposed. A blithe smile appeared on his face at the sound of even the slightest bit of cheer, and you were thankful yet again for his presence.

When you turned to face the setting sun, you realized one of two things. The first being that the two of you were the only ones on the hill, which was usually not so in such a popular area; the second thing you realized was how lovely the atmosphere was. This was not to say that it was the perfect setting to a kiss - because it was - but, instead, it was a light, playful atmosphere you had not felt for years. Over the past 6 years, you stayed away from relatively everyone besides your family because you couldn’t bear the idea of dragging anyone else into the mess you had made for yourself.

You found yourself leaning back, using your hands to keep yourself inclined just enough to see the lavender and pink tint in the sky. The silence between the two of you was something you were quickly growing accustomed to, especially in such seemingly pristine moments like this. Just the presence of Loki besides you was enough for your heart to feel just a little bit lighter, and perhaps he had brought you here because your presence did the same for him.

As your eyes danced to keep track of the infinite colorful sky, you felt a hand touch yours. Loki’s pale fingers rested delicately on your skin, a fire much resembling an arctic breeze setting fire on the place his hand touched. Your eyes fell shut as you wondered for a moment how his fingers would feel entwined with yours or perhaps how it would feel to have such long, nimble fingers caress your body beneath the stars. Part of you desperately wanted to know his body and how it might fit with yours, but the other part of you screamed to let the daydream go.

Shaking away the thought, you opened your eyes to see that the god had been looking at you for who knows how long. He made no further movements besides touching your hand, and maybe that was for the best seeing as though you may not try to stop him despite all that has happened. Your cheeks flushed upon the realization that he had watched you immerse yourself, even if it was only briefly, into a small fantasy.

Loki did not make any remarks, nor did it seem like he had any idea of what was running through your mind. Instead, he looked back up to the sky, eyes shining with such splendor you wished to never look away.

“I have a confession,” he spoke suddenly, catching you off guard.

“Yes?” You asked, wondering if he would tell you that he was not a god. Maybe he would tell you that this was a hallucination, or perhaps you were still stuck in your nightmare from the night before. However, as your mind raked through the abundance of possibilities forming within your mind, Loki said the one thing you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

“When I met you, I knew who you were.”

(Chapter 5)

#angelofdeath #loki laufeyson #loki #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x mutant!reader #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #mutant!reader #mutant powers #slow burn

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keichanz · 4 years

Text

This Is Halloween

IT IS DONE. FINISHED. FINITO. COMPLETE. AND I AM SO

FUCKING

HAPPY YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA.

moving on, i had a lot of fun writing this, and i had no idea so many people would enjoy the idea of writing little blurbs of the modern life of Inukag and their kiddos. also i’m surprised some people ship Izayoi and Raiden as hard as i do anD I’M SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY ABOUT THAT THEY ARE MY BABIES AND I LOVE THEM I WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY

if some of you recognize the first half of this chapter and feel like you’ve read it before, it’s because you probably have. i posted the first half last year on Halloween and titled it “Haunted House” despite having not finished the series. I was originally going to just keep it as is, but then decided it wouldn’t be fair and anyway i wanted a proper ended for Izayoi and Rai, so i added onto it. i’m happy with how it turned out, despite it being a tad rushed because i just wanted this damn thing finished already lol.

anyway, thank you all for joining me on this adventure and for leaving all of your comments and reviews! i promise you i read all of your tags and reblogs and it truly does my heart good to know so many people enjoyed reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it. ^_^

that’s enough rambling; ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, i present to you the last chapter of my series...

Spooktober Day 31: This Is Halloween

Kagome had no idea what time it was when she turned over in bed with a grunt, her forehead scrunching into an irritated frown as she shifted into a more comfortable position then settled with a quiet sigh. Beside her Inuyasha sighed in his sleep and rolled up against her, his arm a pleasant warmth as it draped over her waist and he tucked his nose against the nape of her neck before going still once more.

She had no idea what had woken her up in the first place; snugly warm under the covers and cuddled against her husband quite nicely, Kagome should have been able to go back to sleep no problem but for some reason her mind was alert, refusing to give into the slumber creeping in on the edges, taunting her with sweet oblivion. The darkness of the room, Inuyasha’s steady breathing and the movement of his chest against her back should have been enough to lull her back to sleep, but for some reason her body would not give into her mind’s silent demands. It was as if her mind was subconsciously aware of something that her body was not and as such it would not be coaxed into that state of blessed ignorance.

Her frown deepened and she huffed quietly in annoyance; responding to her distress, even in his sleep, Inuyasha’s chest erupted with a soothing rumble and he maneuvered his arm beneath the blanket to reclaim its spot over her side and then press his hand against her bare belly. The familiar gesture sent warmth skittering across her skin and despite herself a fleeing, sleepy smile flickered at Kagome’s lips. It was one of his favorite things to do now that she was pregnant again and it didn’t surprise her at all that even in sleep he did it.

She went absolutely still, simply absorbing the feel of him against her, concentrating on his warmth, the sound of his even breathing, the pleasant roughness of his leg and chest hair against the smoothness of her skin, hoping to distract herself with the pleasing physical sensations enough to nod off again.

But no such luck; though she could feel the sleepiness pulling at the edges of her mind, it stubbornly refused to give in and Kagome’s frown returned, this time with a frustrated pout. Abruptly deciding she might as well see what time it was to gauge how much sleep she’d gotten thus far - and how much more she could sneak in - Kagome wrinkled her nose and cracked her eyes open just enough to peer at the blurry numbers on her alarm clock–

And screamed.

Inuyasha jolted awake with a startled gasp, shooting up in bed and blinking rapidly in order to clear his hazy vision as his mind struggled to come back online after very suddenly getting thrust into awareness.

“Huh–what–Kagome? What’s—?” Rubbing his eyes and shaking his head, Inuyasha turned his attention to his wife and found her sitting up in bed, clutching the blanket to her bare chest and staring wide-eyed at–

“Jesus! Fucking hell—!” Flailing in surprise, Inuyasha jerked back against the headboard in an instinctive reaction and slapped a hand against his chest over his rapidly beating heart.

“What the fuck–goddammit, Tai!”

Standing beside their bed, wearing his favorite Spiderman pajamas and the very detailed Halloween mask of the bloody skull of a skeleton that he’d begged his mother to buy for him at the store, their five year old said nothing as he peered at him through the meth openings of the eyes, looking every bit the spooky specter that he wanted to be for his favorite holiday.

Inuyasha and Kagome stared back, their eyes wide, wondering what the hell their son was doing standing at their bedside at five in the goddamn morning.

Tai was silent for another minute, before his slightly muffled voice reached their ears.

“…It’s Halloween.”

Then, as quietly as he’d apparently snuck into their room, the child slunk back out, leaving his parents in a state of “what the fuck just happened.”

A moment passed. Then their teenage daughter’s screech of, “Aaaahh! Ohmigod, Tai, you little freak! What are you doing?!” drifted down the hall and into their room. Tai’s gleeful cackling followed shortly thereafter and neither parent was surprised to hear Izayoi scramble out of bed and chase her laughing little brother though the house, tossing various threats of dismemberment and other creative jibes older sisters were known to torment their siblings with.

Finally over the initial shock, Kagome heaved a long sigh and slumped against the headboard while Inuyasha groaned and then slunk back under the covers with an annoyed grumble.

“Damn,” Kagome murmured and Inuyasha grunted. “Who the hell needs haunted houses and you wake up to that at five in the morning…”

A snort came from beneath the covers. “We can charge,” her husband opined, his voice gruff. “Pay for Izzy’s college tuition in a single night.”

Kagome snorted a laugh and slithered down to join her hanyou hubby under the covers. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her chest with a growling sigh and then they felt silent, wrapped in each other’s arms and listening to their children taunt and chase each other around the house in the wee hours of the morning.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome murmured a few moments later, drowsy, but unable to fall asleep as she distractedly rubbed her husband’s ears.

“Mm,” Inuyasha grunted, reveling in his wife’s blissful ministrations and struggling to stay awake to hear what she had to say.

“…You did buy all those Halloween decorations…” Her voice held an innocent lilt to it that had Inuyasha instantly grinning and his chest vibrating with a deep, husky chuckle.

“One condition,” he rumbled, his grin turning sly.

Kagome bit her lip to stifle her snickers. “And?”

“Tai and that damn mask are gonna be put to good use for waking us up at the ass crack of dawn and so’s Iz for saying she’s gonna rip off his arm and beat him with it.”

“Deal.”

“If you don’t stop fidgeting already, I’m gonna poke your eye and I won’t be sorry about it.”

“It feels weird.”

“I swear to god you’re the only girl I know of that complains about putting on makeup.”

“Bite me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help, remember? So quit your whining and let me do this so you can impress your boyfriend. And stop glaring at me, it’s pinching your eyes and it’s gonna make me mess up and we’ll have to start all over again.”

“I hate you right now.”

“Love you too, cuz. Now stay still, will you? I’m almost done.”

Grumbling but because she’d rather not sit there for another half an hour while her cousin painted up her face to match her costume, Izayoi obliged and forced herself to remain still as Rin carefully added the finishing touches to her left eye. With her silver done and already donned in her costume, the only thing she had left to do was put on the hat after Rin was through and she was pretty anxious to see the complete look.

The party was set to begin in about twenty minutes or so and even from upstairs Izayoi could hear her mother order around her dad as they got everything ready. Her Aunt Sango and Uncle Miroku had arrived earlier to help as well and no doubt they were regretting that offer as Kagome flitted about agonizing over every little detail, stressing that it had to be perfect. She was pretty sure her mom had even put Tai to work, but last she knew it was something simple like preparing a cheese and cracker tray or picking up some of his toys to put away.

All in all Izayoi was glad she was pardoned from preparation duty so she could get ready. The instant they’d gotten home from school, she and Rin had bolted up the stairs to her room so they could change and prepare themselves, excited to wow their respective dates. They’d worked on Rin’s makeup first, Googling makeup tutorials and having fun experimenting with different shades and such. They settled on a simple design and coupled with the red wig and costume, Rin’s Sally looked positively stunning. Izayoi only hoped she’d look half as good as her best friend and cousin.

Then it was her turn, and by the time Izayoi was finishing styling her hair and changing into her costume, Rin had sat her down on the bed and set to work.

Now nearly thirty minutes later, Izayoi was starting to get antsy and a tad impatient. It really did feel weird to have makeup on. She’d never been one to care about her outward appearance and obsess over things other girls her age did. But still, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see the result of actually putting thought into her appearance this time.

“Aaaand…done,” Rin finally announced and stepped back with a satisfied nod. Her smile was very proud and perhaps even a bit arrogant as she studied her handiwork. “Not half bad, if I do say so myself.”

With a muffled squeal of excitement Izayoi wasted no time in shooting up and darting over to the full-length mirror on her door. She took one look at her face and gasped, golden eyes going wide in absolute wonder.

“Oh my god, Rin,” she breathed as the aforementioned girl came strutting over to stand by her side, grinning widely as she slung an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “This is…this is amazing. You’re amazing. I love it!”

“You’re welcome,” Rin said lightly and was promptly tackled by the enthusiastic half-demon in a hug a gratitude.

“Thank you!” Izayoi gushed and Rin’s half-hearted “Hey, watch the makeup!” didn’t even faze as she pulled back to admire herself once more in the mirror. “Rin, you are a goddess.”

“I know,” her cousin quipped but with a smile as she crossed the room the grab the last item to complete her look. “And now, the finishing touch.”

Beaming, Izayoi met her half-way and allowed her human cousin and best friend to carefully set the brown velvet hat on top of her head. Her ears flicked from the minor constriction against them, but it was tolerable and if it got to be too annoying she could just take it off for a while, so she paid it not mind.

“Perfecto,” Rin said just as the door to her room opened.

“How are you doing, girls? Almost done?” Kagome asked as she poked her head inside. Her eyes landed on her daughter and she gasped in utter delight, smiling broadly as she opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside. Donned in a simple black long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, Kagome’s costume consisted of black cat ears and a tail with simple cat makeup on her face.

“Oh, Izzy, you look amazing,” she praised and the young half-demon beamed proudly. “And Rin, your Sally is spot on! I gotta say, your skills are stellar. The makeup looks like it was professionally done.”

Rin glowed at the praise and blushed, but her smile was very pleased. “Thanks, Auntie. It was easy, really. Just followed some YouTube tutorials. No biggie.” She shrugged, but it was obvious she really appreciated the compliment.

“Still,” Kagome said as she fished her phone from the pocket of her jeans, “well done. Alright, I have a picture of you two so I can show off to everybody at work. Say Happy Halloween, girls!”

With arms tossed over the others’ shoulders, the young cousins beamed and chorused, “Happy Halloween!”

Kagome snapped the picture, grinned in satisfaction, then beckoned them both over to her so show it to them and then quickly snap a picture of all three of them.

“Okay, the party’s about to start,” Kagome said after sending the photo to both her daughter and her husband. “Let’s get downstairs and show you two off!”

Giggling excitedly, the girls heeded the older woman’s words and scurried out of the bedroom, Kagome at their heels.

There were already a few guests milling about when they got downstairs, mainly people from Inuyasha and Kagome’s work, however a few family members had arrived as well. Rin happily waved to her parents from across the room and skipped over to greet them and to show off her own costume. Kagura had chosen a risqué witch costume while Sesshomaru merely had on a white t-shirt that said “This is my costume.”

Kagura gushed over the girls and praised her daughter’s makeup skills while Sesshomaru eyed his daughter’s costume for a bit before grunting in approval, satisfied that nothing inappropriate was showing. He nodded Izayoi’s way, approving her costume as well, and Izayoi knew it was just his way of showing his admiration so she merely beamed at him.

More people started arriving at the door and someone took it upon themselves to turn on some appropriately spooky music, but kept it at low volume in deference to the demons’ sensitive hearing. Pretty soon the dull roar of laughter and chatter filled the Taisho household as adults and children alike mingled and had a good time. Tai was running around with Sango’s and Miroku’s kids, wearing that bloody mask paired with the clothes he’d worn to school that morning. Whatever, as long as he was happy, is what Inuyasha had told his wife as she shook her head in exasperation.

Shippou and his parents were there, dressed as The Incredibles, and Kikyou along with her husband Suikotsu had arrived as Gambit and Rogue. Kouga and Ayame had opted for the Marvel route as well and showed up as Wolverine and Jean Grey. Daisuke was skulking about somewhere but he wasn’t dressed up, having been forced to accompany his parents.

Izayoi also spotted an Iron Man, the Joker, Penny Wise, various witches and princesses, characters from various horror movies, and even a toilet (???) and Kohaku and finally made an appearance making an excellent Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. He and Rin looked positively stunning together and many pictures had already been taken of them, however the one person Izayoi had been expecting to arrive with him, she still had seen neither hide nor hair of her crush.

Kohaku had waved off her inquiry about him, saying he just got held up and was probably on his way here right now, but Izayoi still couldn’t help but worry as anxiety gnawed at her tummy. Had he changed his mind? Oh god, what if he came to his senses and realized he could do much better than a silly little half-demon with a crush and an overprotective dad—

“Would you chill out?” Rin said, appearing at her side out of nowhere and thrusting a caramel apple in her cousin’s hand. “He’ll come, I’m sure of it. Kohaku said he just got held up.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Izayoi merely nodded and stared down at the dark screen of her phone. She’d refrained some blowing up his phone asking where he was because she didn’t want to be that girl, but she’d be lying if she said the thought wasn’t tempting. It was almost 6 pm and he still wasn’t there…what if something happened to him? Was he okay? Was he hurt? Oh god she needed to go and find him—

A pair of hands suddenly covered her eyes just as a familiar voice murmured behind her, “Guess who.”

Izayoi’s face split into the biggest smile Rin had ever seen and even through her makeup she could detect the pleased blush that colored the half-demon’s cheeks.

“Rai,” she whispered and the hands dropped, allowing her to spin around and lock eyes with her crush for the first time all night.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said and ignored Rin’s loud snort beside her. “I admit, I was…a little worried.” Rin snorted again and Izayoi not so subtly elbowed her cousin in the ribs.

Blue-green eyes glinted down at her but before Raiden could say anything Kohaku slung an arm around his neck with a jovial laugh and along with their friends started harassing him as boys often did. Raiden gave as good as he got, laughing with them and poking fun of their costumes while batting away the hands that poked at his own.

Izayoi waited patiently, amused, as Raiden fooled around with his friend and watched as he finally sent them off with high-fives and promises to track them down later. Rin dragged Kohaku off to do god knows what, sending her cousin a wink, and Izayoi blushed, but smiled in gratitude.

“So,” Raiden said at length and turned to face her fully, unabashedly looking her up and down to take in her costume. His face lit up in approval and he grinned, boldly reaching up to grab the trailing back of her hat and give it a gentle tug.

“You look…amazing, buttercup,” he complimented sincerely, enjoying the soft flush that painted her cheeks. “Did Rin do your makeup?” At her nod, he whistled low. “Nice. See? I told you we’d be the coolest couple here.”

He smirked and struck a pose, putting his hands on his hips and tossing his head as he puffed out his chest.

Izayoi laughed at how ridiculous he looked, her previous shyness evaporating under his easygoing air. What was it about him that made her feel so comfortable?

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she praised, taking in his matching costume. It was simple, and yet complimented her as well as suited him perfectly. He made some modifications, such as ripping the knees of the trousers and shortening the sleeves of the shirt, but she had to admit, he looked positively dashing. She loved the shoulder piece and hat, and those combat boots? Oh, be still, my heart!

“Why thank you, m’lady,” he rumbled, smirking as he held out his arm. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Shall we, fair maiden?”

Grinning broadly, pleased as punch, Izayoi tucked her arm into his and replied smoothly, “We shall, my good man.”

It was just after 10 pm and the party was finally starting to wind down. It was mainly family and close friends that were sticking around, chatting pleasantly and even offering to help clean up, but Kagome dismissed their kindness with a smile and said she’d just do it tomorrow. Tai, tuckered out from all the fun, the copious amount of cookies and other food he’d consumed, and the various games he’d played, lie fast asleep in his father’s arms who sat in the recliner, feeling a mite winded himself.

The teenagers had claimed the kitchen as their domain, joking around and laughing together, but at a much calmer level now that the hype of the party had died. They munched absently on leftover cookies and other treats, plastic cups full of soda or cider littering the counter tops.

Leaning against the counter with Raiden at her side, Izayoi couldn’t remember having so much fun before. She and Raiden had flirted and teased each other all night long, even holding hands once and she’d managed to sneak in a kiss to his cheek once or twice when her parents weren’t looking. She was on cloud-nine, pumped full of sugar, cider, and so much junk food she should be sick, but yet she unable to stop smiling.

Best Halloween ever, Izayoi thought with a dreamy sigh and then suddenly her hand was encased in warmth and she blinked. Looking down, her eyes widened to find that Raiden had taken her hand in his and her face erupted in color when he laced their fingers together.

He squeezed, and she looked up, a question on her tongue, but he put a finger to his lips and tugged as he jerked her his head, a wordless inquiry to follow him as he gently led her toward the sliding glass doors. Izayoi was utterly helpless and allowed him to drag her away, biting her lip to contain her giggles as they sneaked out into the deck and into the cool night.

From his location in the armchair, Inuyasha’s brows snapped low over his eyes as he watched that boy lead his daughter outside away from his eyesight and a low growl rumbled in his throat. Oh hell no.

Tightening his hold on Tai, meaning to carefully lay him on the couch and follow after the two teens, Inuyasha moved to stand up, but a small hand on his shoulder gave him pause and he snapped his gaze to his wife who was looking toward the kitchen with a knowing smile.

He growled. “Kagome—”

“Leave them be, Inuyasha,” she murmured and shifted her hand to soothingly rub his ear. “She’ll be fine. I’ve been watching them all night; Raiden is a good boy with a good head on his shoulders, and you know your daughter. She’s smart, and we both know she can take care of herself. We need to trust her, okay?”

Inuyasha’s ears pinned down against his head and he winced, however he did grudgingly sink back into the chair. It was obvious he was fighting to keep himself from following after them, amber eyes zeroed in on the sliding doors he could see from where he sat, and Kagome smiled in understanding.

Perching herself on the arm of the chair, Kagome racked her fingers through his hair and quietly mused aloud, “Do you remember when we were that age, Yash?”

She purposely used the nickname she’d frequently called him while they were in high school and as she predicted, her husband’s gaze darted back to hers in surprise.

“We used to sneak off all the time,” she reminded him and watched the emotions flit across his face as he remembered their teenage years. Slowly his expression softened and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he recalled their youth.

“We were young, and it was exciting,” Kagome continued, voice soft with fond recollection. “We broke the rules, caused mischief, didn’t care about anything but each other, and we had fun doing it. My high school years were some of the best years of my life, and it was because I had you to share them with me. Would you deny your daughter that same happiness, Yash?”

Inuyasha closed his eyes and sagged in defeat, releasing a drawn-out sigh of resignation. His wife, damn her, was right. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his daughter was a teenager now, and as such she was nearing that stage in her life where she was going to act out and do what she wanted, regardless what he or her mother said. He just hoped to god she wouldn’t be as rebellious as he’d been, but like Kagome said, he had to trust her. He knew his babygirl, knew she would stay out of trouble.

Didn’t stop him from worrying, though. She was his only daughter, his little girl; of course he was going to worry. But it looked like he’d just have to do it from afar now and let her make her own mistakes so she could learn from them, as hard as that was going to be.

“No,” he finally allowed, shaking his head. “No, of course I wouldn’t. I just…” He sighed again and stared beseechingly up at his wife, brow knit into a slight frown of consternation. “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

Kagome’s smile was equal parts sympathetic and resigned. “Majorly.”

Inuyasha groaned.

“Well,” his wife piped up and he cracked an eye open. “At least your hair is already silver so you don’t have to worry about going gray prematurely.”

“Not helping, wench.”

Sitting on the wooden platform of the swing set, hidden from prying eyes with the waxing moon praying witness to their secret interlude. It was a chilly but clear night, but neither teen minded the cold, content to sit in the dark with the moon’s silver brilliance shining down on them and enjoy one another’s company.

Raiden had yet to release Izayoi’s hand and she wasn’t complaining at all. He was warm and smelled nice and Izayoi thought that maybe life couldn’t get any better right at that moment. She tried not to think about how mad her parents were going to be when they discovered she’d sneaked outside with a boy, and with Raiden there casting her tiny grins and squeezing her hand every so often, it wasn’t too hard.

“Sorry for stealing you away like this,” Raiden said, breaking the silence with a soft chuckle. “It was sort of a…spur of the moment thing. I hope you won’t get in trouble.”

Even if she did, it would be soo worth it. “It’s okay,” she said, smiling as a soft blush tinted her cheeks. “I don’t mind. And even if I do…” She shrugged and spoke her thoughts out loud, “It’d be worth it.”

Raiden grinned. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she returned and they shared a quiet laugh.

“I did sort of have a reason for bringing you out here,” he admitted a mite sheepishly, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck as he averted his gaze.

Izayoi tilted her head and regarded him curiously, a patient half-smile curling her lips upward.

“What’s that?” she asked lightly even as her heart pounded in her chest, not daring to hope…

“Uh, er, w-well,” he began, coughing into his hand, and Izayoi realized with slight astonishment that he was flustered. She’d never seen him be anything other than cool, calm, and confident, and she had to admit, she sort of liked it. It was adorable and he was actually blushing!

Fighting back a smile, Izayoi swallowed the giggle that bubbled up and waited for him to regain his bearings, if not a bit impatiently. She didn’t want to jump the gun of course, or jump to conclusions, but if he wanted to be alone to ask her something…

Sucking in a bracing breath, Raiden nodded to himself, hardened his resolved, and faced the pretty half-demon that he’d had a crush on for the better part of a year now. He gave her his best charming smile and enjoyed the becoming blush that stole across her cheeks.

Encouraged, he squeezed her hand and began, “Izayoi, I..uh…” He sighed, groaned, and then decided to just go for it.

“Ah, screw it. Izayoi Taisho, I like you,” he finally admitted and he could clearly hear the way her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. “And I, uh, I hope you like me too—”

“I do!” Izayoi blurted before promptly blushing so hard her face rivaled that of a tomato.

And just like that Raiden’s confidence was restored, the tension in his shoulders melting away and it was suddenly easier to breath. He grinned at her and squeezed her hand, shifting around and angling his body so he faced her.

“Yeah?” he said and though she refused to look him in the eye, Izayoi jerked her head in a curt nod and he felt like he could, like, lift a freaking house or something.

“Well then,” he started and reached over to gently tug on one of her braids to draw her attention. There was a pause, and then Izayoi slowly turned her head, pretty sunshine eyes locking with his blue-green ones.

“What do you say we go out this weekend? Just you and me, like a real date. Please say yes,” Raiden beseeched, his smile easy-going and entirely too charming for her little heart to handle.

Like she was going to say no? Heart pounding, face five different shades of red and her belly rioting with millions of butterflies, Izayoi allowed the utter delighted smile to surface on her face as her eyes lit up in absolute pleasure.

“Yes,” she whispered and had to laugh when Raiden made a fist and jerked his arm back with a hissed, “Score!”

Utterly elated, Izayoi resisted the urge to bounce up and down in exhalation as she confessed, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted—”

Fleeing warmth and softness brushing against her lips so fast she thought she imagined it had Izayoi’s thoughts coming to a screeching halt. She gasped, hand flying up to flutter her fingertips across her lips and her eyes were very wide as Raiden pulled back to reveal a face that was nearly as red as hers.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wincing a little as he dropped his gaze. “I just…you just looked really cute, and I’ve kinda wanted to do that for a while, and well—”

Something warm and soft pressed against his cheek, close to his mouth, and Raiden sucked in a sharp breath as his heart stuttered in his chest. He swung wide eyes his crush’s way and watched as she bit her lip but didn’t avert her gaze, giving a shy but genuine smile that made him want to hug her and protect her at all costs.

While definitely not as brave as he’d been to kiss him on the lips, Izayoi couldn’t help but to return the affectionate gesture, both as a reassurance and because…well…he’d just looked too darn cute all flustered and blushing. She was still reeling from having gotten her very first kiss and her heart was pounding a mile a minute, but she could honestly say she didn’t regret it one single bit.

The two teenagers simply stared at one another for a silent minute, blinking and absorbing what had just happened. And then simultaneously they erupted into a quiet laughter, snickers and giggles echoing into the night. Feeling bold, Izayoi scooted closer to him and pressed her side against his; Raiden retaliated by removing his hand from hers and instead slinging his arm around her shoulders to tug her even closer.

“You wanna go inside?” he asked, frowning slightly as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm. Her skin was cold and he felt stupid for bringing her out here when it was so chilly out.

“Mmm…” Biting her lip, Izayoi glanced over her shoulder toward the deck and the sliding doors that led into the kitchen. She was somehow not at all surprised to find their friends pressed up against the glass, grinning from ear to ear as they spied on them. Rin, the brat, wasn’t even ashamed to be caught, waving at them from under Kohaku’s arm and Izayoi stuck her tongue out at her, though she smiled right after.

“On second thought,” Raiden drawled and a quick glance revealed he too was staring at their annoying friends, “maybe we could stay out here a little longer.”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed, dismissing their friends and turning away just in time to miss the sight of her mother shooing away the teenagers crowded against the doors, shooting them a secret smile before walking away and dragging her protesting husband with her.

“Happy Halloween, buttercup,” Raiden murmured and dropped a kiss to her head, right between her adorable ears.

Sighing in utter contentment, warm despite the chill in the air and the happiest she could ever remember being, Izayoi smiled and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder, oblivious to everything but him.

“Happy Halloween, Raiden.”

a;kjfad i was in such a rush to get this done i forgot to add links to Izayoi’s makeup and costume, along with Raiden’s getup. whoops.

Izayoi’s Costume (though it’s more kid friendly in the fic of course)

Izayoi’s makeup

Raiden’s costume

#this is halloween #spooktober prompts #day 31 #oneshot #inuyasha #kagome #izayoi #tai #raiden #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction

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bastardnev · 4 years

Text

Broken (But Not Beyond Repair)

yknow i spent a whole lot of time referring to this as “the valentine’s fic” but meanwhile valentine’s day is mentioned like Once during this whole story. Nevertheless !

tagging: @sailor-slam-dunk @residentjoth @riveliciousx @lambchopviking @storyranger @nerdbrose (lemme kno if u wanna be added to my tag list !!)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling, All Elite Wrestling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Pac | Adrian Neville Characters: Mustafa Ali, Pac | Adrian Neville Additional Tags: Valentine's Day, sorta but not really, its more mentioned than anything else tbh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, i guess, Making Up, au where nev still lives in orlando and also has a big fucking dog, mustafa worries a lot, Implied Sexual Content Series: Part 2 of Jess Has Too Many Fics In Her Notes Summary: By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.

And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.

(link to ao3)

By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.

And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.

Mustafa stared down at the screen, squinting against the bright light. The rain rhythmically tapping against the roof of the car left him in almost a trance-like state as he debated whether or not to hit the "call" button. This wasn't the first time he found himself in this position — he was tempted to get in touch with Neville just about every time he and the rest of the WWE crew passed through Orlando during live event tours. He would usually only get as far as his contacts list, however, and he was never actually able to bring himself to make that move. Once he learned that the latest show would see him in the area again, he assumed that things would play out as they normally did, with him backing out at the last second and pretending like he had zero interest in seeing Neville.

But that didn't happen. This time, the urge to get in contact was so strong , far more than it ever had been. To the point where Mustafa was in the car and fully prepared to drive right over to Neville’s house. He had no idea what exactly it was, but he had arrived in town with an almost overwhelming feeling to just bite the bullet and do it. A sense that he needed to stop putting off something that was killing him not to do. He wasn't even sure where it came from, but it was certainly there — a feeling that he needed to reach out, to call, to talk to Neville again after so long of little to no contact.

To possibly rekindle a relationship that had meant so much to him.

To put it bluntly, Mustafa and Neville's relationship was, at its core, supposed to be just sex. Nothing more than that. "No strings attached", they always insisted. Once a week ( maybe twice, if they were feeling up to it), they would meet up in a hotel room to fool around, to blow off steam after a show. After Raw, after 205 — they weren't picky. Whenever they were both in the same place and could meet up, they spent the night together. It was nothing more than that, at least at first.

But then, it... changed. It had been gradual — Mustafa hadn't even noticed it right away — but the times they shared started to become something else. Before all they had done was meet up, do what they had to do, and then go their separate ways before anyone knew what they were doing. They did their best to make sure that no one even had a suspicion that there was anything going on between the two of them, hence why Mustafa would always go back to his hotel room after they finished. Whoever he was rooming with normally didn't ask too many questions so long as he was back from his "late night walk" ( horrible excuse, but it worked) at a reasonable time.

Then Mustafa started to actually stay the night with Neville. The first time he had simply been too tired and lazy to leave. The second time had followed a very similar format, only Neville didn't put up as much of a fight. Every time it happened thereafter, Neville cared less and less, and before either of them knew it it had become an established part of their routine, their desire not to clue anyone in on their secret be damned.

And then came the invites to each other's houses. It had started as a way to save money whenever tapings were in Chicago or Orlando, but before long they had becomed planned affairs, with one spending anywhere from a day to a whole weekend at the other's home. They acted like this was so they could hook up easier (and more frequently), but the fact was that those nights were... fun . More fun than they thought they would be. It wasn't just sex anymore — they were cooking together, and buying way too many snacks together, and eating those same snacks as they binged the dumbest fucking movies together. (Stupid Movie Fridays, they'd taken to calling them, though they weren't opposed to other days of the week being devoted to corny films.)

They were... getting closer. Close enough that Mustafa wasn't sure if they should be labeled as acquaintances, or as friends, or as... something even more than that.

Whatever the hell they were, it all came to a screeching halt in October of 2017, when Neville left the company and didn’t look back.

Mustafa still texted him after everything happened, but it was clear that things weren't how they used to be. Neville was distracted, so caught up in the drama of requesting his release that he didn't seem to have time to talk with him anymore. It wasn't like Mustafa didn't understand — though he'd never been through the process himself, he could only imagine how stressful it must be, especially given the specifics of Neville's situation. Not to mention that his own career picked up notably only a few short months later, and he hadn't done much better on the consistent communication front. This was far from being a one-sided issue.

What had gotten to Mustafa the most, though, was how abrupt it all was. How one moment the two of them were talking, and laughing, and genuinely enjoying one another's company more than they ever thought they would, only for all of it to suddenly stop. How they used to text each other the most ridiculous and pointless shit, only for their messaging to slowly taper off until it ceased altogether.

As of that moment, in February of 2020, contact between them was nonexistent. Like they were total strangers.

Mustafa wanted so badly to change that.

His thumb was hovering precariously over the "call" button. It was such a simple thing to do, but he was still having so much trouble with it. If he did that, then Neville would pick up, and then two of them would be talking again for the first time in years. He would get what he wanted. It was so easy, so doable .

Even so, he was hesitant. There was no guarantee that Neville would pick up to begin with. It was possible that he would see who was calling him and immediately reject the call, or let it ring and ring until Mustafa eventually gave up and left him alone. Worse yet, he might have deleted Mustafa's number, and he would hit him with a dreaded "Who is this?" the moment he answered. Each of those situations sent a chill down his spine, and it made him want to turn off his phone and forget about this plan like he always did.

But Mustafa couldn't let those worst-case scenarios get to him. Not anymore. He needed to do it, and he needed to do it right then and there. Otherwise, it would likely never happen.

With that, he made the call.

Bringing the phone up to his ear, Mustafa chewed on his lower lip. He listened to the rings, first one, then two. His heart was pounding in his chest by the time the fifth ring rolled around. A little voice was yelling at him from the back of his mind, telling him that he'd made a huge mistake and should just hang up the phone already. It was clear that Neville didn't want to talk to him — if he did, he would've picked up. It was only a matter of time before he got sent to voicemail and was forced to either hang up or leave some embarrassing message for Neville to delete—

"Ali?"

"Oh—" Mustafa's whole body tensed at the sound of Neville's voice coming from the receiver. He'd actually picked up — shit, shit, shit . He scrambled for something to say, anything . "...Hiya."

Real smooth, dumbass . "Hello..." Neville responded tentatively. God , it had been way too long since Mustafa last heard him. He probably would have enjoyed the moment more if he didn't just make a complete fool out of himself.

"What, ah...” Just say something! “What're you up to?"

"I'm... at home." Neville still sounded wary. Mustafa couldn’t exactly blame him.

"You had a match this week, right?" Mustafa remembered seeing tweets about it on his timeline. Reading that Neville had won had put him in quite the good mood for the rest of the night.

"I did."

"Good for you." Mustafa nodded. “Makin’ moves.”

Then, the line fell silent, and Mustafa had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that he did not plan this well — or at all, really. All those nights of internal arguments and wondering about how a potential phone call between him and Neville would play out ultimately failed him. He had no idea what to say next, or how to get to the point without making himself look like an even bigger idiot.

Fortunately for him, Neville was the one who eventually broke the silence. "Ali, what's going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I— Are you kidding? You just called me out of absolutely nowhere. Why?"

“...Oh, that.” What else would he be talking about?!

“Yeah, that .” The tone left Neville’s voice and, quieter, he added, “Is everything alright?"

Mustafa swallowed. There, that was his opening. "Everything's fine, it's just..." He paused. "I... WWE's in Orlando this weekend.”

Neville was silent for a beat. "...Is that so?"

"Mhm. I just got to my motel a little while ago. Haven't even gotten out of the car yet, though, because of this rain." Taking a deep breath through his nose, he said, "I... was thinking about you. Wanted to know how things were."

“I see...” The line went quiet again, the only sound being that of Neville’s breathing and the rain, which seemed to have only gotten worse in the time they were talking. Mustafa was dreading eventually having to get out of the car.

“I-I know it’s sudden,” Mustafa explained, an attempt to save himself from this awkward situation. “And that you probably didn’t expect to hear from me.”

“I definitely didn’t.”

“Yeah... But I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure things were good.”

“They’re... They’re fine, thank you.” After a beat, “And you?”

“Same here.” Mustafa looked out the raindrop-speckled window. “I’m tired as hell, but... Still, it’s all good.”

This conversation needed to end. It was going nowhere, and Mustafa knew this. Hearing from Neville again was great, but all he was doing was embarrassing himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well... I guess I should be going. Still gotta get my room.”

“You haven’t even got one yet?” Neville asked. “What do you plan on doing if there isn’t one available?”

“I’ve slept in enough cars during my career to be okay with it. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t remember ever saying I was worried.”

Mustafa snorted. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

“At least I’m consistent.”

“That, you are...” Mustafa licked his lips. “I’ll... talk to you later, maybe, okay?”

“Alright...”

Mustafa sighed softly. Here’s to hoping I’ll actually have the balls to call him again after this. He thought to himself as he brought the phone away from his ear. Considering how long it had taken him to initiate this five minute chat, it would probably take him an eternity to do it all a second time.

He was just about to hang up when he heard Neville say, “Wait!”

The phone was back to Mustafa’s ear in a flash. “Yes?”

Neville seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he asked, "If it’s not too far from your motel, do you... want to come over for a bit? Just until this storm lets up."

Mustafa’s eyes widened. “U-Uh...” He stammered, very much caught off guard. He had wanted to go to Neville’s house earlier, but he didn’t expect him to straight up invite him , completely unprovoked.

“If it’s too much trouble, then don’t worry about it,” Neville backtracked. “I know the weather is messy—“

“No it’s not,” Mustafa cut him off. “I mean, yes, it is, but I can still drive in it."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't. You know I'm a good driver."

"I know you're a slow driver."

"Close enough. I’ll... I’ll be over in a little bit.”

He heard Neville breathe out (in relief?) “Alright. You, uh, still know the way?”

“Yeah, I do.” Mustafa could never forget.

The one benefit to the rain being so heavy was that the roads were mostly clear. The few cars that were out at that hour were driven by people getting home late from work and lovesick idiots like Mustafa. He had to be careful, of course, since an accident was the absolute last thing he wanted at that moment (and always, really), but he maintained a decent speed as he went down familiar streets and made familiar turns, ones that he hadn't made in ages. All so that he could see Neville in-person again.

What would the two of them even do ? That question was bouncing around inside of Mustafa’s head the whole time he was driving. He... highly doubted that they would hook up, given the amount of time they had been apart. It was unlikely that they would so easily fall back into their old pattern. Chances were they would spend more time catching up (or sitting in uncomfortable silence) than anything else. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that — happy? Disappointed? An odd combination of both?

No matter how he might have felt, it was definitely happening. And before Mustafa knew it, he was pulling up to the front of Neville’s home, parking in what had been his usual spot only two years ago.

Mustafa shut the car off. Staring up at the house, he realized that it was no different than it had been the last time he visited. Very... ordinary. There weren’t any decorations up, despite Valentine's Day being just around the corner. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected, really — Neville had never been all that into decorating. Thought it was all a scam and a waste of time, even though it made his home stick out like a sore thumb during the holidays. Just as he’d said on the phone during their chat, he was as consistent as ever. The familiarity was... comforting.

Bracing himself for the weather, Mustafa stepped out into the rain, taking a moment to lock the car before hustling up to the front porch. His heart was thumping as he climbed up the steps. Come on, you can do this, don’t chicken out now. All the worst-case scenarios were starting to creep their way back into his mind, telling him that this visit was pointless. That they were far too different now, and getting together again even for a little while would only make things worse somehow. Mustafa stared intently down the doorbell, as if it were challenging him with its faint glow, and he pressed it before he could talk himself out of it. Screw that pessimism — he was already there. If talking to each other was bad, then running away when he was expected was even worse.

And, truthfully, leaving unnoticed at that point was impossible. The door was opened only a moment after he'd rung the bell, like Neville had been standing there waiting for him on the other side, and just like that Mustafa was once again faced with the man who he’d spent countless nights with only a few years ago. A soft, shy smile spread across Mustafa’s face. “...Hey, Nev.”

“Hi...” Neville’s expression mirrored his — his smile was still stunning. “It’s... certainly been awhile, hasn't it?”

“Sure has.” Mustafa’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets. Too long. Mustafa wasn't sure if he should say this last thought aloud or not.

“Well, don’t just stand there — it’s pouring.” Neville stepped aside. The rumble of thunder off in the distance did an equally good job of reminding Mustafa of the bad weather, and he nodded, making sure to wipe his feet as best as he could on the mat before he walked inside. "Just put your shoes with the rest of mine."

"Got it." Some of Neville's shoes were lined up against the opposite wall, surprisingly neat. This alone made it clear that Neville had managed to do (or, scrambled to do) some last minute cleaning before he showed up. They were usually a mess, one that Mustafa teased him about almost every visit. He couldn't say anything this time, however, and instead he went about slipping his own pair off.

Then, a large black shape came charging at him from the end of the hallway.

“Winston!!” Mustafa grinned, and he crouched down, scratching the bullmastiff on his head once he stopped in front of him. The dog responded by licking his face, and Mustafa laughed. “I missed you!”

“Looks like he missed you, too,” Neville mused from behind him, and Mustafa heard him close the door.

“It’s been way too long, boy-o!” Another rub to the head. Winston's tail was like a propeller, wagging rapidly. A paw came to rest on Mustafa's arm, and he faltered a little. "Hey, don't knock me over now."

"I don't mean to interrupt this tender reunion, but can I get you something to drink? Water, maybe?"

Mustafa looked up to Neville, Winston licking his hands now in an attempt to regain his attention. "That'd be good, thanks."

Neville gave him a nod and made his way towards the kitchen. Winston turned and followed him right away, which caused Mustafa's eyebrows to raise. "Wait, where're you goin'? I thought you wanted me to pet you!"

"He sees me going to the kitchen, he follows," Neville yelled back. "Seems to think me being in here automatically means he'll get a treat."

"Doesn't it?"

A pause. "...Well, yeah, but..." Neville trailed off, and Mustafa couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes. Who could've guessed the "Bastard" would be such a pushover?

Now alone in the hallway, Mustafa took a quick look around, noting some of the pictures on the wall. He wanted to say it was an evenly distributed assortment of photos, shots of family and the dog alike, but it was clear that there were just a few more of Winston than anything else. Neville's love for him seemed to have grown tenfold in the time he and Mustafa had been apart. Mustafa couldn't help but wish that he had a pet of his own. Winston had filled that role for awhile, but... well, it was hard for him to actually bond with an animal when he wasn't even speaking to its owner.

Mustafa decided to head into the living room then, and he sat down on the couch, shifting in the plush seat as he waited for Neville (and Winston, hopefully) to come back. The rain was still pattering away against the window, and Mustafa silently hoped that it would let up before the end of the night. Having to go back out into such a downpour and drive all the way to his motel — the same one he still didn't have a room at, now that he thought about it — would not be fun. The more he put it off, the more likely it seemed he would be spending that damp night in the backseat of his rental...

Mustafa shook his head and tried to get rid of the thought. He would worry about that later, after he did... whatever it was that he planned on doing with Neville. He still hadn't figured that out.

Sitting there and looking around the room, it was all so... familiar to Mustafa, just as so many other things were. Everything that had happened since he arrived at the house had been apart of his and Neville's routine — the old one, from before everything changed. It was all the same, from Winston greeting him at the front door to the drink offer. There was even some Netflix movie paused on the TV. Mustafa admittedly didn't recognize the name of it, but if he knew Neville half as well as he thought he did, it had to be tacky. Stupid Movie Night lived on, even though they hadn't actually gotten together to have one in years.

Mustafa missed this. All of this.

"Here you are," Neville at last returned to the room, handing Mustafa his glass.

"Thanks." Mustafa took it from him. Winston strolled in behind Neville, and Mustafa watched as he followed him closely, sniffing his lap after he sat down at the opposite end of the couch.

"I have nothing more for you, why are you looking at me like that?" Neville gave the dog a scratch behind the ear. "You've already gotten loads of treats tonight, take it easy."

"I see he's just as much of a mooch as he was before."

" Oh yeah. Actually, he might have gotten worse, if that's possible." Winston jumped up on the couch and settled himself as best as he could between Mustafa and Neville, the latter going right back to patting him on the head. "He's my boy, though. Wouldn't trade him for the world."

And then, without warning, it was quiet again.

The room that had just a moment ago been filled with their voices was now filled only with the sound of the rain. Mustafa licked his lips, and he stared at Neville, whose gaze was trained on Winston. When he looked to Mustafa, their eyes met, and Mustafa gave him an awkward smile (which was probably more like a grimace) before turning his attention to the paused movie on the screen. His nerves were beginning to make a comeback, just in time for he and Neville to have the first face-to-face conversation they'd had in a long time. He cursed his luck and, once again, his past self for not properly thinking through his plan for getting back in touch with Neville — he'd gotten as far as "call him and hope for the best" and left it at that.

Neville was the one that invited him over. He wouldn't have done that if there wasn't even a tiny part of him that wanted to see him, to talk to him. Even so, Mustafa was still hesitant, worried that he might slip up and say something that would do the opposite of saving their relationship. But he needed to take a chance. He'd told himself when he was standing on the porch that it was far too late to back out, and it was especially too late now that he was sitting on Neville's damn couch. Taking a slow sip of his water, Mustafa cleared his throat, and he made the first move. "Uh... So, things have been good with you?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Mustafa realize he'd asked him almost the exact same question on the phone earlier. However, Neville didn't seem to notice (or maybe he just didn't care). "They have." His hand was on Winston's back now, fingers slowly trailing over his fur. "Busy, but good."

"Weren't you wrestling on that cruise awhile ago?" At Neville's nod, "Damn, that must've been cool."

"It was... something, I'll say that much. Never thought I'd see myself wrestling in the middle of the ocean."

"Isn't there, like, no phone service on cruise ships, though? How did you even survive?"

"All the questions you could ask me about that trip, and you ask me about the wi-fi? I don't live entirely on social media like you do."

"Yeah, yeah..." Mustafa was tempted to take out his phone and begin scrolling through Twiter just to mess with Neville, but he decided against it. That would come later, once he was sure about where their relationship was at. "Either way, I'm really glad you've been able to find so much success."

Neville snorted. "Me too. And how about yourself? What've you been up to?"

"Things are..." Mustafa pursed his lips as he tried to come up with the right words. "They're okay. A little slow, but definitely not bad."

"Is that the polite version of 'I've been almost exclusively in dark matches for the last month'?"

He grinned sheepishly. "So, you know about that..."

"I haven't actually sat down and watched WWE programming in full in ages, but I still try to watch your stuff whenever I can. Once you stopped showing up, I kinda figured you were— ah, how do you put it? 'Stealing the show before the show'?"

"Hey, don't use my words against me like that!"

"Don't use them all the time, then! Seriously, you post the same thing after every dark match. Usually with a shirtless pic attached."

"Ooh, so you know about those , too?" Mustafa waggled his eyebrows. "You like 'em?"

Neville gave no response to this, though the hint of pink on his cheeks told Mustafa everything he needed to know. Cute .

Putting his glass down on the coffee table, Mustafa decided to follow Neville's example, and he also started to stroke Winston's back, the dog himself already sleeping. Mustafa had never known an animal that fell asleep so quickly until he met Winston. He nodded towards the TV. "I see you're watching a movie."

Neville looked to the screen. "Oh, yeah, that's right..." Had he forgotten all about it?

"Is it dumb?"

"Absolutely. You know I never watch anything good by choice."

"I knew it. So, what, is it a horror film?"

"It is, and it is atrocious , even by my standards. Sooner or later I'm gonna come across one that's actually decent, and I'm not gonna know how to handle it."

Mustafa chuckled. "There's no shortage of bad horror films, so I'd say your odds of finding a good one are pretty slim."

"Thankfully. It's, um..." Neville stopped suddenly, and Mustafa's brows furrowed.

"What?"

"It's... nothing, don't worry about it."

A statement sure to make a worrier like Mustafa worry every time he heard it. "Are you sure? You can tell me."

"Eh, you'll just laugh..."

"I will not." Mustafa's tone was gentle, yet firm. "I promise."

Neville blinked at him, then back at the screen. Mustafa couldn't even begin to imagine what it was that he was so hesitant to tell him. Of course, if Neville insisted that he didn't want to talk about it, then Mustafa would back off, but... Still, he didn't want Neville to think that he couldn't trust him not to make fun of him. Not if he wanted them to be back together for good.

Fortunately, Mustafa's prying seemed to be enought convince Neville. A moment later, they locked eyes again, and Neville quietly admitted, "Well... These movies just aren't the same when you're watching them alone. Sometimes I miss having someone to make fun of them with."

Oh. Mustafa's lips parted, his hand coming to a halt on Winston's back. This sudden stoppage caused Neville's hand to bump into his — ever so slightly, their fingers were touching. He expected Neville to flinch back, but he didn't, and his gaze was just as steady as it had been before. Mustafa couldn't bring himself to look away. Was this... an admission that he wanted he two of them to get back together...? Was that the sign that Mustafa had been looking for? He swallowed. "Um... Neville—"

BANG!

A sudden crash of thunder startled all three of them. The lights flickered, and a second later they went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The loud noise prompted the now-wide awake Winston to leap off of the couch and bolt out into the hallway. "Winston, no!" Mustafa called after him.

"Christ, not again..." Neville griped. "Now is not the time for this..."

"No kidding..." Mother Nature sure had interesting timing.

The flashlight from Neville's phone was then turned on. Neville squinted at the screen. "Damn thing's gonna die if I keep the light on all night..." He muttered. He then stood. "I'll be right back, gotta go grab some candles."

"Can you check on Winston?" Mustafa pleaded to Neville's silhouette, which was already moving out of the room. "Make sure he's okay?"

"He's probably just in the kitchen — that's his hub whenever the power goes out." The little bit of light that had been in the living room faded away as Neville went down the hallway. "Yep, he's here. Hidin' out behind the island."

Mustafa breathed a sigh of relief. Winston was still scared, but at least he wasn't hurt. That was what mattered. "Good. You think he'll come back in with us?"

"Probably not." Neville's voice was fainter now — he must have gone into another room, possibly his bedroom. Mustafa was disappointed to hear this, but he had to have faith that Neville was wrong. He was sure Winston would rejoin them at some point before Mustafa needed to leave (he couldn't leave without properly saying goodbye, after all).

It was only when Neville re-entered the room holding two scented candles and a box of matches that Mustafa remembered the significance of those items.

The candles. How could he have forgotten about the damn candles ? He watched as Neville placed them down on the coffee table and went about lighting them, his brows furrowed as he moved the match from one wick to the next. That look of (almost unnecessary) concentration was such a familiar sight to Mustafa, one that he'd grown to like quite a bit during their time together, but also one that he had not seen for far too long. Now that he was looking at it again, he was transported to a different time, back when he'd first been invited to Neville's house. It very likely wasn't the same candles, but some of very similar scents and colors had been lit when he'd arrived. He teased Neville at first — he never thought he was a Mood Lighting kind of guy — but it turned out that he was just into candles. There was at least one in most of the rooms in the house. They had been a trademark of sorts for Neville.

Mustafa had lost sight of that fact after their separation. And now, on this gloomy, rainy night, he was once again being reminded of something that he'd missed terribly.

"There..." Neville's voice interrupted Mustafa's reminiscing, and he sat back down on the couch — notably closer than he had before, Mustafa realized. "That should be good enough."

Mustafa stared at the small, dancing flames. "Y...Yeah, it's fine," he replied.

"Something bothering you?" Shit. Mustafa had made his mood just a little too obvious.

"No, not really," he fibbed.

"Are you sure?" Then, "Am I... Am I sitting to close to you, or...?"

"No!" Mustafa quickly assured. "No, that's not it. It's..." He considered lying again, but after pushing Neville into talking a few moments ago he felt he had no right to keep any secrets from him — not to mention that Neville might get the wrong idea again. It was best to tell the truth. "These candles remind me a lot of the times we used to hang out. You had them lit all the time."

Neville followed his gaze, also becoming entranced by the fire. "Ah... Yes, that's right. The cinnamon one was your favorite, wasn't it?"

"It was."

"I wish I still had one, but it burnt out a long time ago. I didn't think to buy another one, to be honest."

Because Neville associated that scent with him. That had to be the reason. Neville had no reason to get a candle of someone's favorite scent if that "someone" wasn't even around to appreciate it. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I..." Mustafa swallowed. "I miss you. A lot."

Neville didn't say anything to that. Mustafa continued, "I miss seeing you backstage, and talking to you regularly, and watching you wrestle, and just... being with you. Those nights we spent together were so fun , and I looked forward to them. I loved watching dumbass movies with you, and eating way too many sweets, and... everything else. But all of it— it just stopped . Out of nowhere. And I really, really wish that it didn't.

"I... I know you and I are both busy these days in our own ways. And I know that maintaining a relationship with our packed schedules is gonna be tough. But... I'm willing to give it a try, if you are. You obviously don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and I'm more than okay with you deciding that this isn't something that you're interested in, but I wanted to at the very least let you know how I feel."

Satisfied with his rambling, Mustafa took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and waited anxiously for Neville to reply — if he ever did. He was still staring at the candles, his expression unreadable. Maybe Mustafa's sudden confession was a lot to take in at once. Especially since it came out of seemingly nowhere, and was prompted by candles of all things. Is he... okay?

But then, faintly, Neville at last said something. "...I'm the one that fucked everything up."

"What...?"

"I'm the one that stopped texting you. I should've done more to keep in touch with you."

"But it's not like I ever tried to start a conversation," Mustafa argued. "I stopped, too. I'm just as responsible for what happened. You can't only blame yourself."

"I know, but..." Neville chewed his lower lip. "But I care about you. I never stopped caring about you, not even when I was sorting out my contract. And I should've done a better job at showing it. Instead, I just..." He shrugged. "I just let our relationship die."

Mustafa debated it for a moment, but ultimately he decided to take a chance, and he reached over and took hold of Neville's hand. For the second time that evening, Neville did not shy away from the contact. "It doesn't have to stay dead if you don't want it to. We can... try again."

"I want to," Neville admitted. "But like you said, it's not going to be easy. We're always traveling, and we're on completely different work schedules, and..."

"We can make it work," Mustafa cut him off. "It'll take some getting used to, but I think we can do it."

"But what if everything happens all over again? What if... What if something comes up and we just stop talking again?"

"Do you want that to happen?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Then let's try our hardest not to let it happen. We don't have to text every single day or anything, but if we both try to send each other something every now and again, things could work out just fine."

Neville swallowed. "...You're really serious about this?"

"I am," Mustafa said, clearly. "I wasn't lying before when I said that I missed you, and everything that came along with you. I wanna give us one more chance, see where things go. And if you want to, then... I say we go for it. What do we got to lose?"

Neville, whose eyes had been glued to the flames, turned his head to meet Mustafa's gaze. The soft, orange glow from the candles illuminated his face. The light gave him a haunting, mesmerizing appearance. One that Mustafa couldn't look away from even if he'd wanted to.

He looked... amazing.

Mustafa couldn't help himself from slowly leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was soft at first. Mustafa wanted to provide Neville with ample time to pull away. It wasn't until he felt Neville gently reciprocating the kiss that he deepened it, a hand moving up to cup Neville's cheek. Mustafa's lips parted, and Neville's tongue slid into his mouth. The intimacy was almost dizzying. This was what he'd been waiting for. After all that debating about whether or not to make that phone call, this was what he'd wanted. What he'd missed so badly.

It had been over two years since their last kiss. Somehow, this one was the best of all.

If only Winston hadn't decided that that was when he'd choose to return to the living room.

All the two of them heard was another rumble of thunder and the sound of nails frantically clicking on the floor before the dog leapt onto the couch, where Neville had been sitting earlier. "Oh my God—" Neville gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "What the hell, Winston?!"

Surprised as he was, Mustafa couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, he came back! That's good, right?"

"Would've been good any other time..." Neville moped, but Mustafa putting an arm around his shoulders prompted him to smile, and a moment later he moved in for a second kiss. Just as good as the first one.

"...Hey," Neville breathed out against his lips. Between kisses, he continued, "Did you... ever end up getting a motel room...?"

Mustafa froze, eyes wide. In the excitement of being back together with Neville, he'd forgotten about the other date he'd be having that evening — the one with the backseat of his rental. "Uh..." He grinned sheepishly. "No, I did not."

Neville smirked. Mustafa's heart rate ticked up just a bit. "Would you like to stay with me tonight? We still have some... catching up to do, you know."

Mustafa's expression mirrored his. Suddenly, his sleeping in the backseat seemed a hell of a lot less likely. "You're right..."

"Is that a 'yes', then?"

"It is. But , I left my bags in the trunk. With my pajamas in them."

This statement caused Neville to chuckle, and he kissed Mustafa again, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth when he pulled back. "Hmm, Mustafa..."

"What?"

"I wasn't anticipating either one of us sleeping with clothes on tonight..."

#mustafa ali #pac #wwe fanfiction #aew fanfiction #long post #just in case the read more decides not to work #jess.txt

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