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#here's the dozen shots / ten second moments that i specifically remember making me go Oh. Oh Okay It's Like This [life changes] when just
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speaking of, i’ve seen some like reblog addition once or twice in these past 7 years and been annoyed enough about disagreeing analytically that here i am to just vaguely refer to it and repudiate it
basically someone saying like oh there’s that idea in fury road that instead of chasing after a utopia you should fix what’s already there / what you’ve actually got to work with
like they do in fact get to improve on what they already have to work with but there’s not so much a concept of a Utopia here but rather someone, for one thing, going “yeah this cool, better place exists that i want to go to, because i lived there already”....even these other girls for whomst it is in fact entirely abstract are a) aware that it is an actual place that exists, thusly, and b) aren’t exactly necessarily totally Idealistic about the entire matter, e.g. aren’t assuming they won’t be killed, don’t think they’ll be able to find it, & such
which goes into how it’s not that everyone’s assuming they’re pursuing something perfect out here, it’s that they’re all coming from their nightmare society where they’re not even regarded as people in their own right, and chasing Something Else, which is theoretically going to be better rather than necessarily ideal, and that, again, it doesn’t even Have to be better necessarily, it’s [inciting incident is all these people choosing to take these actions] happening b/c again it’s Something Else, it’s literally Not This, it’s Possibility that [this] isn’t the only thing for them or for anyone. which is an attitude that can be like oh how naively utopian lol of course this is the way it Is so yes, going “what about: not this” is so useless. but naturally i would happen to disagree w/that.
even for things to take a turn into the climax you’ve got like. furiosa has her emotional low point b/c her remembered The Green Place has gone to shit / doesn’t have those qualities it used to have. which is different from like oh disillusionment about a place you Thought was perfect but actually it wasn’t, rather, it’s just outright Changed in the last twentysome years. (and also isn’t completely changed, like, it’s still something of this figurative oasis, it’s still sustaining life in this desert, even if it’s not Plant life nor the people who planted it & rather, the crows & those bogwalking people & whatever else is going on out in a bog).....it’s like, okay Now they’re heading off somewhere that they Don’t know exists at all & nobody knows what it’s like b/c they don’t know if traveling east for months will bring them to Anything Else or not. but it’s just a less concrete version of what they were already after, Something Else, and Possibility. it’s sure Possible there’s something out there actually, though there may not be, versus furiosa knowing there’s definitely something else a few day’s out from the citadel, b/c there is/was, b/c she was there....but that idea there Could Be Something Else is again not like oh there’s utopia out there, nor is it even necessarily despairing, though going back & taking over the citadel Is more concrete, and it Is considered more hopeful by everyone else (who also agreed to the salt flats approach, naturally) which is fun since max Just said that the salt journey was too hopeful lol but is now the one coming through w/the more hopeful and frankly longer shot of an idea.
but also that the reason they change plans isn’t b/c they were ignoring or rejecting the idea of Fixing what was already there, it’s that it’s like, to turn around and go back would just be to die lol, the entire time they were outrunning those parties b/c they’ve got one truck vs [literally everyone else]. it’s certainly not all about convincing furiosa and co of the practical plausibility of that, there sure is like thematic [operating together / with others towards your aligned/shared goals] and hope being repeated specifically mentioned before & now, but it sure Is also the practical plausibility lol, when once it’s like oh you can’t go home again when you were abducted a couple of decades ago, their options are Go Back, where they’ll be killed, or stay living in this part of the desert which is i guess an option, but really the Most Active thing to do from their perspective is in fact to take a long shot, take advantage of the supplies they’ve brought with them, & all pursue the Possibility of Something Else. to consider going back at all certainly involves max having to pitch the idea that it doesn’t actually just mean being killed along the way, or once they’re there. like, they all of course have known it exists, or at least half of them do, having just come from there / lived there a good while, furiosa knows it has resources, but the resources They have are themselves as people & their own relationships, where they see each other as people, rather than being in that citadel with all these increased resources that definitely exist, but where everyone’s an object / tool / property & even furiosa having some power through being an imperator was/is certainly not enough where she had any feasible means to just avoid being killed if she tried much of anything. and where here their opportunity is that the main guy & his whole army can at least be held off long enough to maybe get a foothold in the citadel, making sure to kill the main guy isn’t even necessarily a step in the plan. however it’s fantastic that furiosa gets to do this personally with an epic line that also punches you (or at least me) because it’s also like of course this is such an implicitly fraught history for her behind getting to rip a guy’s jaw off. good for her with that specific revenge that semi spontaneously unfolded but was also imbued with Everything In Her Life. and the girls getting to help her along to that point including again toast as the most similar to her having a direct hand in the last seconds letting furiosa kill him, then being there to take over driving and spit on his corpse. anyways, the thing is that also they know even Maybe turning around would lead to everyone dying anyways, and many people do die, and they also can’t have been sure there Wouldn’t be anything across the salt (or they wouldn’t have done it) and Obviously turning back and taking the citadel from joe with its definitely extant water & plants (and even the people of course, given that of course crucially they don’t (and can’t anyway) just like storm and conquer the place and have to be Let Up / everything that unfolds in how people react to furiosa’s return and joe being dead) is the right (and/or rewarded) choice in this story and it is certainly the choice they end up making, but it’s certainly Not accurate or all that relevant to what’s more accurate to be like well well well looks like someone didn’t want to put in the work and is instead looking for utopia
reminds me very pertinently of like oh how about this postapocalyptic YA scifi novel where one teen girl is now the only person alive in this small town / enclave although she can’t know if there’s any other enclaves or people alive out there, until some adult guy shows up from somewhere and maybe has to recover from some injury idk and they’re like housemates or whatever for a while until he suddenly tries to rape her b/c oh postapocalypse, as a girl you Have to have earth repopulating babies, and then she has to like flee and try to survive in that enclave while he’s trying to sabotage her to force her to have to “cooperate” with him. and the ending is that she takes the like radiation armor or whatever hazmat type suit the guy showed up in and leaves him and that enclave behind entirely and walks off into what may be a totally inhospitable unpopulated world but where a) that guy managed to show up from the outside world and b) she’s like specifically walking towards an area where she’s seen some distant birds so there May be life, but there’s no further implication about whether she’s necessarily right or or whether she’s going to die b/c there’s no one else or no other hospitable area nearby....and if we’re going “fury road is about working with what you’ve got and they have to learn that chasing utopia isn’t going to get them anywhere” then we’re going “wow, a story about this protagonist’s naivete, huh??” about that ending. sounds like Someone’s a little too idealistic
also that naturally it’s completely relevant that authoritarianism as like a structure/ guiding principle needn’t only be found on a scale of [a whole country or something]. quotes about water sure but also the “that’s my child; my property” line, where’s that being shared, it’s not like oh that’s just [the villain] things lol, that’s like, a common perspective even if it’s not voiced that way. you can apply the material to w/e you want irl but in universe it’s like, this one place they’re from is known to not be the only place in the world, it doesn’t Need to represent All Human Society and isn’t That in universe, when i went offroad from [zooms off from parents’ house] i was like wow fury road moments huh. and certainly people have the stance of like umm sounds like everyone should try and Make It Work with their existing family units....and i have the stance of i wish i could fight with a metal arm. like, you wanna make it work that way lol, that’s a possibility. don’t have to presume everything out there is Perfect, or that you won’t even maybe die by getting outta here, but it’s Possibility of Something Else and is already something else, can you argue people necessarily need to be guided by anything else or that that’s somehow the Naive or overly Idealistic perspective rather than “how about you stay & deal with more of the same / your known limited paths for the future as you have for however long? try just keeping at it? see if the regime will feel like seeing you as a person when it’s never done that and to actually change and do it it needs to have Already changed and done it, so kind of an impossible position to be in” and the like. how is one gonna imply like well the mistake that these characters needed to unlearn was leaving in the first place, oh you think there’s something perfect out there, get real?? 
anyways the tl;dr is you know when someone’s wrong and you’re right. i’m really right though lmfao this wasn’t a story about anyone being motivated by the idea of this utopia, it’s about the motivation of needing something else / acting on possibility. and saying the conclusion is like “fix it” lol like again, not utterly irrelevant when these matters are discussed, but it’s like, they’ve Been fixing things, How are they able to fix things, why do further possibilities like “i can fix [the citadel]” become possible....survival happening / becoming more successful with others, individuals becoming more successful with others....people are isolated & stripped of power as their Problems, not that they’re a bit too idealistic about hey time to get the fuck out of here lol
#some rando in some post i probably last glimpsed a few yrs ago ''fury road is good b/c for one thing: [x] :)''#here i am to say NO it's NOT [x] it's good b/c for one thing: that's actually [y]#tagging this one just categorically lol#fury road#the plains of silence? more like the black box of [anyone checking w/e particular tags i'm using] lol#godspeed i mean i'd believe it. i'm out here having seen fury road the month it came out & never stopping thinking abt it since#in fact clearly i am Continuing to think abt it afresh even in addition to all the immediate [thinking about sooo much]#that is i don't feel like ah yes. i have reached Every Conclusion about this material lol. im obv going ''oh hey. new ideas'' this very week#and you know me....short essays to Hope i've made some point about something that would probably be someone else's sentence or paragraph#oh right and once more with canon typicality:#cw rape mention#at this point i'm so like. make windows movie maker absorb this File; make a clip comp that's even limited to like.#here's the dozen shots / ten second moments that i specifically remember making me go Oh. Oh Okay It's Like This [life changes] when just#even seeing it for that very first time in the theater like o_o and i mean naturally the truest version of that is [the whole thing]#but i really remember like a good number of those particular like hWAOH things like Ah. I See [increase of 98589 hz]#anyways tfw glancing over sm random slightly off base point like ugh no. smash cut yrs later arbitrarily walk up to the dash like yknow what#No...#ig also#long post //#not always a hard distinction out here. i need one billion words thanks
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justcourttee · 3 years
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Hi I love your fics and maribat. Tall Girl (Netflix) reminds me a lot about Timari. So maybe to something with that. (With Mari thinking that Tim's confessions were all jokes and wanting Ardien who was roped into dating lila and it's the class making fun of mari.)
Oh goodness, this took ages and I both apologize and hope it's what you were looking for! 24 pages and over ten thousand words! For reference, that's 20% of my first multi-part Maribat piece!
Average
In a world where everyone is looking for extraordinary, how do you survive when you’re just average?
I’ve spent my whole life mulling over the thought, trying to find a way to be extraordinary, trying to find a way to be noticed, and constantly failing.
It wasn’t like it was from a lack of effort, I really did give my all to everything I tried, it was just, there was always someone better.
Specifically, one insufferable bitch named Lila Rossi.
Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘Marinette, it’s not fair to call Lila a bitch just because she was better than you,’ and if it were a normal rivalry, I could agree with you. But you simply don’t know Lila Rossi.
Lila has been a thorn in my side since we met on the soccer field at just ten years old. I accidentally bumped into her sending us both tumbling to the ground and she took that personally. Slapping my hand away, she bawled the worst fake tears I had seen in my ten short years until the coach benched me. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being benched in elementary school soccer?
Ever since that day, anytime we were placed together it always ended in disaster, especially for me.
Now, as much as I would love to on about how awful the sausage-haired brat is, I’m sure that’s not what you came here for. So let me break it down for you. If you are looking for your typical girl meets boy, they fall in love and live happily after, you should scroll now. It’s only fair to warn you. After all, I don’t want you to be disappointed when we reach the ending. I’ll give you a second.
Still here?
Well, hold on tight. Because the story I am about to tell you isn’t much to just anyone, but it’s everything to me and my average life.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It all started on a Tuesday in August when he arrived.
Adrien Agreste.
“Class, I want you to welcome our exchange student, Adrien Agreste! He’s here all the way from Paris, France, and will be finishing the year with us. Adrien, why don’t you tell the class something about yourself?”
I couldn’t even focus on the words that escaped from his precious lips. His voice was so silky, like softened butter on one of Papa’s fresh muffins. Everything about him screamed perfect from his thoughtfully placed hair to his shining green eyes. He was simply-
“-Earth to Mari! You could at least try to hide your drool.”
My eyes snapped shut as I took a deep breath.
“Tim, I am not drooling. And you know I hate it when you whisper in my ear! It tickles!”
Tim rolled his eyes as he sat backward, his eyes narrowing to where Adrien stood in the front of the room, a pristine white smile earning giggles from every female in the class.
“I don’t like him. Something seems off about him. He’s too-too-”
“Perfect?” I chuckled to myself as the heat rose to Tim’s cheeks, his eyebrows settling into their usual aggravated pose. “I don’t know what has your panties in such a twist Wayne, but shouldn’t we try to get to know him first? I think he seems nice.”
Tim huffed under his breath, his cheeks filling with air. It was hard for me to contain my giggles as he mumbled to himself, his pout deepening.
Tim Drake-Wayne. He is my absolute, undeniable, unshakeable best friend. We met back when my parents decided to drag me halfway across the world for a change of pace. I was in the fifth grade when a young irritable boy with a coffee addiction wandered into the bakery alone, demanding a double shot of espresso to deal with the day.
After several visits, we became closer and closer until we were inseparable. Tim’s been through a lot. He was emotionally abused by his parents, forced to mature too quickly. We had just entered the eighth grade when those same parents died and he was adopted by the town’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne. I was sure I would never see him again, but after much convincing (bugging), Bruce decided public school was best for Tim so that he wouldn’t be isolated again.
I adore Tim with my whole heart, really, but there is one thing he does that I absolutely despise.
“After school today, let me take you to the new coffee shop that just opened! It’ll be just like a date.” His wink only strengthened my urge to knock him flat.
“First of all, quit joking about my lack of a love life. I don’t need a pity date from you. Second, how do you switch so easily from grueling to jokes? Don’t you get whiplash or something?”
It’s a daily occurrence. I mention someone I like or that someone is cute and immediately Tim jokes about how it would just be easier if I dated him instead. It’s the only thing he does that has ever truly gotten on my nerves.
My gaze returned to the front of the classroom where Adrien had settled into his new seat. Even the back of his head had every hair perfectly placed. How did he even begin to manage that? I wasn’t sure how long I had stared, but before I knew it the bell had sounded and I was whisked away by Tim before I could even say hi.
The same pattern repeated itself every day for weeks.
Every time I would work up the courage to say something to him, Tim drug me away as fast as he could manage. Although, I can’t place the entire blame on Tim. There was one other factor, one factor worse than Tim.
Lila Rossi.
As student body president, she vowed that it was her duty to show Adrien around the school and around town. I spent every night scrolling through dozens of snapchats and instagram stories filled with her hanging off of his arm.
Even if I could escape Tim’s grasps, there was no way she would let me get in a ten-foot radius of him.
At least, that was what I thought. There was one time during the day that Adrien had a moment to himself. Fifth period when the music room was abandoned and most took off for their internships or club activities.
I discovered him by accident, truly. My club had let out early for the day and while most people would take off to head home or to one of Gotham’s more popular afternoon hangouts, I wanted to wait for Tim.
It was never my plan to corner him, but as I flung open the music room’s door without a second thought, my eyes met startled green and my heart dropped to my stomach.
“I’m so sorry! Usually, the music room is empty right now and I thought I could find some peace, and I didn’t know you were in here and oh my god I’m such a dork.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth before I could spiral any further, his widening eyes sending my heart deeper. This was it. I finally had a chance to introduce myself and I wasted it. If there was any way I could just slink away, crawl into a six-foot hole, and simply wither away in misery, I would take it without hesitation.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll just head out no-” I could feel the heat rising to my face as the most precious sound I ever had the pleasure of experiencing erupted from him. His laugh could literally cure cancer, I was sure of it.
“No, no, you’re fine! Marinette, right?” He knew my name? Adrien Agreste, the most perfect man in the world, no, in the universe, knew who I was?
I could barely find the strength to nod, the heat in my cheeks becoming unbearable. He offered a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck in such a gentle and shy manner. It was too effective. There was no way I wasn’t going to pass out before Tim got out of his AV club.
“I’m sorry, I also didn’t realize that anyone used this room besides me. I’ve spent the past few weeks in here while everyone was in their clubs.”
“You didn’t want to join anything?” Was my voice always this high? I couldn’t remember. To be honest, I was still in a daze from his precious laugh.
“It wasn’t that! It’s just, there’s nothing here that really interests me. I prefer classical things, like the piano and musicals and French theater. Nothing that interests normal kids our age.”
French theater? I knew some from the days I spent with my Grandfather in Paris. He was a sucker for classical things as well.
“I don’t think that those are weird interests. I mean, I prefer to design as my hobby, but I’ve spent quite a few hours watching French musicals with my papy. I am very knowledgable if I do say so myself.”
Adrien’s smile was blinding as he slid over on the piano bench, offering the spot beside him. My heart had finally returned to normal, but just one small motion had sent it into a flurry as it desperately tried to escape my chest.
“Let’s make a bet Marinette.” I found myself nodding before he even finished his sentence, his infectious smile starting to pull a smile of my own. “If you can guess the song and musical, you can ask for anything you want from me.”
“And if I get it wrong?” I was so sure the air was thinner beside him, the glint in his eyes drawing my breath away.
“Then I can ask you for anything I want, deal?” I hesitated for a moment, unable to comprehend that he would even want anything from me to begin with, but seconds later my head began to move, my breathing scarce.
I closed my eyes as his fingers hit the first notes, a beautiful melody following. The song was so familiar, so simple, but it was so hard to focus with him so close by. All too soon, the echoes of the final note rang through the room until a deafening silence settled atop of it.
“So, any guesses?”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, a name settling in the forefront of my mind.
“It’s definitely Sur Deux Notes, but for some reason, I can’t remember the musical”
My eyes flickered open as I resisted the urge to jolt backward. His face was mere centimeters away, everything about him urging me to lean forward, to give in.
“A true tragedy Miss Marinette,” a finger popped up to bop my nose before he slid off the bench, offering his hand to help me stand. “You got it half right! It’s from the musical Les Chansons d'Amour. Which means-”
His pauce was dramatic as I stood, his grip on my hand loose.
“I win! Therefore, I get to ask you for anything correct? That was the deal?” His smirk was so playful, it almost felt dangerous. “So, Ma Dame, what are your plans this weekend?”
“Nothing!” That was definitely too quick, do I look desperate? Honestly, if it meant staring at that smile for a second more, I found myself caring less and less.
“Then, how about I help you refresh your musical knowledge? I believe I can get ahold of a copy of the original Les Chansons d’Amour by Saturday.”
This was a date, right? I wasn’t dreaming, the red throbbing spot on my arm pretty much guaranteed it. Somewhere along the line, I must have nodded, and as he gently released my hand turning to grab his bag, all the warmth left with him. Already, I found myself longing for his touch again.
“I hate to ask, but can you meet me at Wayne Manor? I’m sure Mounseir Bruce would allow me to borrow a car, but I am not quite comfortable asking him for something like that.”
“Sure-” I felt the gears turning in my head until the final one clicked into place. “I’m sorry, did you say Wayne Manor? As in Bruce Thomas Wayne? Gotham’s Favorite Billionaire?”
“Ah yes,” his hand moved to the back of his neck, a sheepish smile replacing his confident one from moments before. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but he was the only one my father would let me stay with. I couldn’t even apply for housing because he already had it set up. Does that make you feel awkward?”
“Oh no, of course not! I’m well acquainted with the Waynes! In fact, there is one that I forgot I was supposed to meet today. Can I give you my number really quick?”
As I handed him his phone and we bid goodbye, I couldn’t even begin to relish in the high I was feeling. No. The only thing I could focus on was how to murder one little Wayne boy.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Marinette, c’mon! It’s not that serious. So what if I didn’t tell you that Adrien was staying here?”
I tapped my pencil against my forehead, trying to ignore the pestering fly beside me.
The minute I had stepped out of the music room a couple of days before, I encountered two of the biggest thorns in my life. Tim paling at the sight of my rage and one insufferable bitch wearing the ugliest scowl. He ran from me then, he ignored my texts and calls, and I’m assuming once Adrien mentioned our date to Bruce, he decided there was no more avoiding it.
“Besides, he sounds pretty cheap if he’s making you meet him at Bruce’s house. Watching musicals? Like with your grandfather? Is he ancient or something?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain the silence. There were so many things I wanted to say to him at the moment, but seeing him squirm was the best revenge. Tim loved silence unless it was purposely directed at him. His brothers taught me that years ago.
The bell sounded through the room and I quickly darted out before he could attempt another backhanded apology.
These were the days that I missed my Paris friends. Besides Tim, I was utterly alone. I mean, I technically could hang out with Tim’s siblings, but then I’d still have to see him. There was one person that lived outside the Wayne household, yet I wasn’t sure if I was ready to cross that line yet.
I walked home alone again.
Realistically speaking, I needed to at least work up the patience to face him before Saturday. It was almost a guarantee that he would be there. It wasn’t like he would go out on the weekends. But with only two days just seemed too soon.
I had barely walked into the bakery when my mother excitedly waved me down the landline in hand.
“Marinette! A boy from your school is on the line!”
I raised an eyebrow as I accepted the phone, waving her off. There was only one boy that knew the landline number and that was Tim, but if he were on the phone, she would’ve said so.
“Hello?”
The silence was deafening. For a moment, I was sure they had hung up and was about to follow suit when a soft voice sent chills down my spine.
“Marinette? It’s Adrien. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
My breath caught in my throat. Did he ask Tim for my number? But he has my cell? It didn’t matter how he got it or why he was using it, I just needed to respond.
“No-” I cleared my throat trying to find my real voice because it certainly wasn’t how I just spoke. “No, it’s not a bother at all.”
“Great, so, I heard from Lila that there was a homecoming dance coming up. I haven’t been to one before, but I was wondering if I could go with you?”
“Of course I would love-” My heart sank before I could finish my sentence. Laughter cut me off, two distinct laughs that I could pick out from anywhere. “Don’t you ever get tired Lila!”
“Oh my god, you were so excited huh? Pretty pathetic that you think he would fall for you after one conversation Mari dear.”
I didn’t even know how to respond. She wasn’t wrong. We shared one song and haven’t even gone on one date yet, why would I even believe this for one moment?
“Yo Mari, what’s good xinh đẹp?” I felt my hand rising to massage my temples before I could even find the strength to respond.
“Kim, were you trying to call her beautiful, or do you just suck that much at your grandmother’s native language?”
Muffled arguing continued for a few minutes, a few too many for me to question why I still hadn’t hung up. There was a concerning shriek before silence followed.
“I’m surprised you’re still here dumbinette, do you like being degraded by me?” Her laughter sounded like nails on a chalkboard and I could feel the tightness in my chest rising to my throat. “I just wanted to call to make one thing clear. Stay away from Adrien Agreste. I set my sights on him the minute he walked through those doors back in August and I don’t want you to think for even a second in that pitiful brain of yours that you even have a chance, okay?”
I wanted to argue, I wanted to rub it in her face that I had a date this Saturday, one I didn’t have to force upon him like she had the past few weeks. But the tightness had settled, crushing my windpipes. My hand inched down from my temple to my eyes where they were met with a warm wet tear.
“Mmkay, that was all babe! See you at school, hugs and kisses! Mwah!”
The phone stayed pressed to my ear for too long, the dial tone mocking my existence.
It was just two more days till my date, but I felt less confident as the days passed. A single thought passed through my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. No matter how I felt, I couldn’t cave in and call Tim. Yeah, that’s right, I was still mad at him. But was I really?
I was so sure that I was pissed beyond belief when I had to hear from Adrien that he was staying with him, but that wasn’t something that was completely out of my mind. Tim had done worse things than withhold information about someone I thought was cute.
Slowly, I lowered the phone, my fingers absentmindedly dialing his number, pausing as my finger lingered over call.
No, not tonight. I cleared out the screen before dropping it on the bakery counter, waving off my mother’s concerned look. Nobody could ruin the fact that I had a date on Saturday. Not even my own self-destructive tendencies. Adrien asked me out. He asked me out. That was a fact and no matter what Lila or Tim thought or did, it couldn’t shake that undeniable fact.
There were two days. Plenty of enough time to finish the dress I had been fiddling with the past two weeks. I will show up to this date with my head held high and my hopes higher
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Oh! Marinette what a fun surprise! You look beautiful!”
I inhaled sharply, ignoring the urge to smack the grin right off of Tim’s face.
“Timothy. Is Adrien home?” His smile faltered for a moment as he stepped out of the way, inviting me inside.
“Is this your new project? You were working on it for so long. It looks stunning!” He stumbled over his meaningless compliments as he led me to the entertainment room, my silence too much for him to bear.
“You don’t have to escort me, Timothy. I have been here a million and one times.”
I reached past Tim to open the doors, ignoring the fact that he refused to move. There was a strong temptation to just slam the door a little harder so that it would reach his nose, but a set of startling green eyes eased the feeling.
“Marinette! Oh mon Dieu, Tim was supposed to let me know when the doorbell rang so that I could greet you. I’m so sorry, I swear I really am a proper gentleman.”
“It’s okay Adrien! Really! I should’ve texted you that I arrived. I’m just so used to letting myself in.”
His smile was full of relief as it sent my heart into a flurry. Was it really possible to sit close to this man without combusting?
“Please, join me! I just figured out how to set everything up.”
Adrien motioned to the seat beside him and as I slid into the couch, I was fully aware of his arm resting behind my head. It felt nearly impossible to focus on the movie in this position. As he pressed play, my eyes glanced between him and the screen, unsure which was more deserving of my attention.
“So my friends, what are we watching?” Adrien’s arm flinched, his elbow knocking the back of my head as we both jumped from the couch.
“Tim, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t a fan of French musicals?”
Adrien was putting it nicely, something I could admire him for since my thoughts were definitely straying to a much more violent response. Tim took a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth as he slipped into the spot I had been sitting moments before.
“I usually don’t, but I figured I should get to know you both a little better and your culture of course. Don’t mind me, you won’t hear another peep.” He mockingly zipped his lips closed, his sickeningly sweet smile not quite reaching his devilish eyes.
Adrien glanced at me as if he were unsure to argue or not. I suppose he decided it wasn’t quite was worth it as he moved to sit back down, his smile shaky.
With as much might as I could muster, I shimmied in between the two guys, putting as much distance between Tim and me as I could. I felt his glare burning holes into the side of my head, but there was no way I was going to let him ruin my perfect first date with the perfect guy.
Adrien restarted the movie and for exactly five minutes, Tim kept his promise.
“Can we at least turn on the subtitles? My french is a little rusty.”
I gritted my teeth as Adrien nodded, the screen changing to fit in the white words.
“God that’s tiny, is there any way to make them larger?”
“Uhm, I’m not very sure? It took a while to figure out the controls.” A fist shot past my face, spreading in wait. Adrien looked wary as he placed the remote into Tim’s outstretched hand.
“This should do.” What was once manageable small words were now purple and taking up a third of the screen. I could feel Adrien tense up beside me, but he refused to argue.
We continued on like this for the duration of the movie. Tim would find something new to complain about making our date feel less and less romantic and more like amicable divorcees taking their child out.
“Wow, what a beautiful movie!” Tim dabbed at nonexistent tears, his smile irritating me half to death. “What’s next guys?”
“I, uhm, actually have to head back. After all, I told Maman I wouldn’t be out late.”
“Let me walk you home!” The silence was deafening as both boys traded glances with one another, daring the other to speak again.
“Enough Tim! This was my date tonight with Adrien, not you! Quit acting like some jealous boyfriend!” Both sets of eyes turned toward me, one set glowing, the other dull.
Tim closed his slack jaw before he gathered his trash, mumbling under his breath as he left.
I took a minute, watching the door to ensure he wouldn’t turn back with some dumb retort like he always did, but instead, it remained shut. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, urging me forward.
“I’ll walk you home Marinette.” I managed a nod as I let Adrien lead me out of the room and out of the manor.
We walked in silence for a while, his gentle touch both calming and warm in the cool October air.
“Marinette, I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly how I planned for our first date to go. I’m not sure what was up with Tim.”
My laugh was curt as I slowed my pace, the bakery coming into view far too quickly.
“Tim is just lonely. I know that, yet I’ve been ignoring him some time for petty reasons. He just,” I paused, steps away from the windows to avoid any unwanted audiences, “he just can take the jokes too far sometimes and I can’t handle that.”
Adrien nodded as if he sort of understood what I meant, his eyes glancing to the building beside us.
“Is this your house? Do you live above the bakery?”
“Uh, yeah. There’s an apartment above with a side entrance. So I suppose, this would be my stop.” His chuckle echoed as he moved his hand from my back to brushing against my own hanging hand.
“Well, it certainly wasn’t how I imagined it would go, but can I at least end it how I planned?”
My heart was certainly ready to burst as he gently turned me until our noses were mere centimeters apart. He seemed to be waiting, his lips parted ever so slightly. This was my chance, and yet I was too mesmerized by how close he was. Could I at least nod?
Perhaps I did. The confirmation he waited for set him in motion as he closed to the slight distance between us. His lips were warm and soft and I felt as if I could melt into the sidewalk, as happy as could be.
It almost felt life ending when he finally pulled back, his smile sending my head spinning.
“I’ll see you Monday, Marinette. Goodnight.” He lifted my hand, placing a small peck against my knuckles before releasing it, turning to leave me dumbfounded in front of my own house. My eyes trailed after him, only allowing me to step toward my own home once he was just out of sight.
There was literally nothing that could ruin the high that I was on during that very moment. If only I had known what was waiting for me as I turned the knob.
“Welcome home hunny! Look who decided to stop by to see you!”
The color drained from my face as the snarky smile set off every alarm in my mind.
“Long time, no see Dupain-Cheng. I thought the first thing you would do when I got here was come and see me, but I guess that was too much to hope for now wasn’t it.”
“Chloe, you know you’ve been busy, so why are you acting like it’s all my fault?”
Her heavy, dramatic sigh reminded me exactly why I hadn’t reached out. Chloe is one my best friends besides Tim, but she can be a bit much sometimes. Imagine being so average that even when you stand next to a pillar, you make the pillar look more outstanding. Got that picture? Now imagine little old average me standing next to a three times Miss Junior World Wide pageant winner.
See? A bit much for my mental health to hang out in public with her.
“C’mon now, you know that’s not the only thing stopping you from calling. Your mother told me you had a date tonight. You finally give that Wayne boy a chance?”
I rolled my eyes as I slid into the chair across from her, the weight of the night finally hitting.
“You and I both know he’s just messing with me, mocking me if you will.” Chloe shared a look with my mother, both sighing. I knew what they were thinking, but they didn’t know Tim. He was always like that, always will be. “Besides, there was a transfer student. From Paris to be exact.”
I knew I had captured her attention as she leaned forward, her fingers intertwining before resting on the table.
“Maybe you know him. From what I gathered, he and his family are Paris elites. Adrien Agreste-”
“Mhmm, girl, drop him now.”
I paused as I waited to see if she would elaborate, but instead, she just sat back in her chair as if already bored with the conversation.
“Why should I? He’s so handsome and so sweet and we both share similarities. He’s so perfect Chloe.”
“Yeah, no.” She glanced over her pristine nails as if looking for a crack in the polish to punish. “He is a daddy’s boy and you are not his father’s type. His father will insist he marry someone that would be good for business and I’m sorry but you’re not that Marinette.”
“Marriage?” I could feel myself burning red at the implication. “We only went on one date, Chloe!”
“And it should stay that way. Trust me, he and his family are nothing but trouble for you. You should ask out Tim instead.”
“Are you done?” Chloe sighed before nodding, letting her hand fall to hit the table with an exaggerated smack. “I know that he is out of my league. Trust me, for someone so perfect like him, he needs perfect to match. In fact, I was planning on calling you soon anyway, but since you’re here..”
I trailed off, waiting for her to draw her own conclusion.
“Marinette, nobody is perfect. Stop putting him on a pedestal before you hurt yourself.”
If I weren’t mistaken, I would almost think she was concerned for me, but that just wasn’t Chloe’s style.
“So can you do it or not?”
Her sigh was long and drawn out, ending in a slight nod.
“Let’s get to it. We have a lot of work to do before Monday rolls around.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You know, I had always wondered how Lila felt walking into school every day knowing that every set of eyes was pinned to her.
Now I knew.
It was revolting. How could she walk so confidently knowing that everyone was gaping at her, certainly waiting for her to mess up? At least, that’s how it felt as people didn’t even bother to hide their broken necks as I whisked past them.
It would be a lie if I didn’t disclose that I practically dove into the safety of my homeroom before I fell into a full-blown panic attack.
“Marinette?” I stiffened as I peaked up at the boy standing in front of my desk. It had been two whole days and Tim hadn’t even messaged me, yet here he was, his mouth hanging as low as everyone else’s. “Are you wearing make-up?”
I nodded as he slipped into his usual seat, his expression shifting from surprise to one of suspicion.
“This has Chloe’s handiwork all over it. Did she stop your house or something this morning?”
“She’s staying for the next couple of weeks to avoid that shady hotel on fifth that her mom booked for her.”
Tim nodded with understanding, but not another word was spoken. It almost felt like a dagger to my heart. Where was the Tim I knew with the backhanded compliments and joke dates? Surely if a makeover couldn’t get a reaction from him, what was I expecting from Adrien?
I let out a sigh as I fell forward, my forehead resting on the cool desk. Where was Adrien anyways? He was always ten minutes early for every class. This was so unlike him.
“Oh my god! There you are Mariboo!” A shiver traveled down my spine jolting me up in my seat. There was only one person with an annoying shrill in their voice that could outmatch Chloe’s.
“Lila? You’re not even in this class. What do you want?”
Her laugh felt like listening to a cat using the blackboard as its new scratching post. I couldn’t help but flinch as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder.
“You’re so mean Mariboo! I was coming to make sure that we were still on for lunch today! Adrikins had a photoshoot this morning but he wanted to invite all of us to eat with him on his break!”
Her enthusiasm was sickening.
“But Lila, you don’t like me-”
“Don’t like you? Babe! What is with you today? If my boyfriend asks me to bring you to lunch then that’s all I need to confirm our sisterhood.” Boyfriend. Boyfriend. I couldn’t be bothered to hide my shock as Lila’s fake smile shifted to show her more sinister and true smirk. “Yeah, Boyfriend. We went to dinner last night and he asked me there! So romantic huh? Anyways, I trust I’ll see you later then huh? Okay then! Hugs and Kisses, byee!!”
My eyes narrowed as they shifted to where Tim sat beside me, feigning ignorant to the interaction. Was this his retaliation for what I had blurted out on Saturday? I only called it how I saw it and it was Tim’s fault for pushing me that far! He was being childish at this point.
“Do you think she’s lying about Adrien asking her out?” The silence was deafening as Tim slowly lowered his forehead to the desk, his eyes shut tightly as if trying to imagine he was anywhere else than right beside me. Regardless, I tried to continue. “It has to be a lie, right? I mean Adrien said he liked me, not her! We even kissed.”
Tim’s body stiffened beside me. Of course, that would get a rise out of him, he was always overprotective about those kinds of things. Alas, my excitement was dulled as he returned to his relaxed state once more, his silence continued.
Whatever. I don’t need Tim. I can figure this out for myself. All I had to do was wait till lunch.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Oh my! You actually came! How exciting.” Lila’s smile was dripping with false elation, a hint of thrill dancing in her eyes as if she couldn’t wait for the drama to unfold in front of her. “Aidrikins, look who it is!”
Adrien wouldn’t even meet my eyes, his arm dangling lifelessly from Lila’s shoulders. If I had to guess, he wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. The thought leaked its way into a small smile.
“Why don’t you take a seat Mariboo? I have someone who wanted to talk to you. Someone who loved your little-” she paused, her nose scrunching up as she searched for the right word,”-transformation?”
I didn’t even have time to question her before I was thrown off balance, an arm forcing me into the chair at the table.
“‘Sup girl? You’re looking fine today.” Instant dread flooded my soul as I was squeezed into a damp t-shirt that I could only assume was sweat-drenched. “You don’t mind if I slide in beside you eh?”
“Kim-Get. Your. Arm. Off. Me. Now.”
“Woah, woah, c’mon little lady. Don’t be like that! You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you Marinette.”
Lila’s smile was infuriating as she watched as Kim pushed me into the open seat, his arm heavy on my shoulders.
“What is the meaning of this Lila?” Her eyes feigned innocence as she cocked her head to the side, her fingers tapping the table.
“Whatever do you mean Marinette? I’m just trying to help you get over your heart break now that Adrikins has chosen me to be his girlfriend. You know the old saying; ‘the best way to get over one is to get under another’.”
I could barely stand to let her finish before I pushed Kim away, taking off ducking so that he couldn’t reach out again. Why did I think for even a second that this would turn out okay? Did I expect Adrien to wrap me up in his warm arms and tell me she was just a joke? How stupid of me.
“Marinette?” I slowed down long enough to catch Tim’s worried gaze, the strength in my legs finally giving out as I slumped to the ground. “Marinette! What happened?”
I tried to speak, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I reached up absentmindely to where the warmth in my cheeks sat, recoiling at the dampness I found. Had I started crying? When did that happen?
“Here, take this.” I didn’t even bother to look up as the weight of Tim’s jacket slipped over my shoulders. He gently helped me to my feet, pulling me toward the door that led to the courtyard, a bench in view. “Can you make it to our spot?”
My voice still seemed to fail me, a nod was all I could manage. It was enough for Tim who seemed to understand. The moment the back of my knees hit the cool wood, I buckled. Tim crouched in front of me, reaching out hesitantly to brush some of the leftover tears lingering on my cheek.
“Is this because of Adrien?” The air left my lungs, my body going rigid. “This is what I was worried about Mari. He seems perfect, but the jerk was torn between you or popularity. Anyone who can’t see the right choice there isn’t deserving of you.”
“Torn between me and popularity?” My voice was hoarse, it sounded unfamiliar.
“Yeah. He had the audacity to ask for my advice as to whether or not it was worth it to date you or have friends. Can you believe that? As if Lila’s little group will still want him after his newness has worn off.”
“And what did you tell him?” Tim stiffened as he shifted his eyes away from mine. “Tim, what was your advice to him?”
“He told me to drop you because you only saw your old life in me and that you weren’t as invested in this as I was.” My body felt as stiff as Tim’s looked as we both glanced to where he stood, breathless and red, his own eyes tinging pink as if he were holding back tears himself.
“Stop.” Tim’s voice was a whisper, his hand retracting from where it had been resting on my cheek. Adrien took a step forward, holding his head higher as he looked down on the two of us.
“He told me that you always had short-lived crushes and that you longed for your old life often. So much so that when I showed up, you were more fascinated by what I could offer over who I was.”
“That’s not what I said-”
“It’s exactly what you told me! So imagine my surprise when she showed up at lunch today looking like I had pulled the rug out from under her feet. Marinette, this isn’t what I meant to happen. I like you, alot. And if you like me too, I’d want to give this a shot, truly.”
My brain felt as if it were short-circuiting. Tim had done many things in the past to thwart my crushes but he’d never put me in a situation that would hurt me. Never. Yet, when my eyes met Adrien’s, something sincere stirred, pulling at my heart.
“Tim?” His eyes shifted to mine, tears brimming at the edge threatening to spill at any moment. Was this really the face of a selfish man sabotaging me? “I want to hear it from you, Tim. What was your advice to Adrien?”
“Marinette, I already told you-” Adrien fell silent at the sight of my palm, urging him to stop. It wasn’t a lack of trust in him, it was the fact that I felt too much trust for Tim. I just knew he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he-
“That’s more or less what I told him,” he was barely audible but I heard every word clearly as they pierced my chest. “But Marinette, I couldn’t watch him string you along anymore. You don’t know the conversations he has at night with Lila, you don’t know-”
I couldn’t imagine the face I was making right now. I couldn’t even begin to fathom a face to make in the first place. Nothing out of Tim’s mouth was making sense. Adrien was telling the truth? Tim really said that about me?
“Marinette, please listen-” my hand moved before I could think, smacking Tim’s as it attempted to rest itself back on my cheek.
“Tim.” He seemed to understand as he stood, taking a step back from where I sat. “Tim, just,-I-”
I didn’t even know what to say. Why did it hurt so bad? What was this gut-wrenching feeling? It wasn’t like this was the first time Tim had sabotaged a crush. But wasn’t it the first that he had gone this far? The first he had said such awful things to me? Right?
“I think you should leave Wayne.” There was a tense moment where the air stood still and the two boys in front of me stared each other down, daring the other to speak again. It was Tim who would inevitably give in, stepping back toward the school building without a glance back. And for some reason, that hurt most of all.
His face, what face was he making right now as he walked away? It’s the only thing I can think about, it’s monopolizing my thoughts. Tim, Tim, Tim-
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Adrien pulled me forward until I was pressed into his chest, the dampness of my cheeks finally hitting. When did the tears start? Why did they start? “Marinette, I don’t know what Tim has said about me, but I really do have feelings for you. I never once faltered when it came to that. Is there any way you could give me a second chance?”
His heart was pounding. Was he nervous? I could hear the words coming out of his mouth, but I couldn’t process the meaning behind them. Was he asking me out?
“A second chance? Aren’t you dating Lila?”
“I am, but I’m not. I-I don’t care for her as I do you. It was just that Tim told me you weren’t interested and she has been asking me for weeks now. I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t look good on my part, but I swear Marinette. If you tell me right now that you will accept my request, then I’ll leave her. It’s you that I want Marinette. So what do you say?”
“I-I don’t know what to say. I mean, Adrien it was one date. Are you sure you want to throw away your relationship on one date?”
Adrien pulled back, his eyes shining as elegantly as the first time I saw them.
“I’m sure Marinette. I would be willing to bet anything on you.” Hesitantly, he reached forward, wiping the tear stains from my face, his hand remaining on my cheek. “May I?”
I couldn’t process just what he was asking, my mind still boggled with thoughts of Tim retreating. I could feel my face being pulled forward ever so slowly, his nose nearly tickling my own. Was this okay? Was it okay to allow him to steal yet another kiss? Was Tim right? Did I truly care about Adrien or was he just another crush? He paused, his lips mere centimeters from mine.
“Is this okay Marinette?”
No, Tim was wrong. Adrien was wonderful and caring and I actually liked him. This was something I decided for myself regardless of Tim’s opinions. It was my turn to close the distance between us. His lips were soft and delicate, almost hesitant as he returned the kiss. As he pulled away, my head felt dazed. It was different from the melting sensation I had felt before. This one was gentle, like a promise sealed between the two of us. It was comforting.
"Come with me Saturday,” my voice felt foreign as it slipped out of my mouth, unsure of where this surge of courage came from. “My friend has a fashion show and while it’s not the most exciting thing in the world, I’m sure it would be much better with you there.”
“If it’s with you, I’m sure it will be a blast. I’d love to come, Marinette.”
There was a pause as I registered his words in my head.
“So, like a date..right?”
Adrien’s laugh bellowed through the courtyard as he stood, offering his hand to help me stand as well.
“Exactly like a date.” He pulled my hand forward until his lips brushed over my knuckles, his warmth lingering even after he released his grip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to take care of a certain someone before I can officially call you mine.”
Adrien offered a small wave before turning to jog back inside.
I remained standing, my eyes following his retreating figure. He left through the same door that Tim had, reminding me once again, that I also had someone I should take care of. But was that the case? Tim never explained himself, just upped and left after Adrien suggested he should.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t trust Adrien and what he said, it just felt wrong to watch Tim leave me, to leave my side without a word.
Maybe we both just needed some space. After all, I had no idea what I would do, what I would say if I saw him right now. I would just wait until after Saturday, after my date, after a perfect night out.
Yeah, that would be the best time.
I reached into my pocket, my fingers already dialing before my phone was even in view.
“What do you want Dupain-Cheng? Aren’t you still in class?”
“Well, hello to you too Chloe. I’m doing fine thanks for asking.” There was a deep sigh that resonated through my phone as if she was deciding if I were worth her time. Supposing I was, she clicked her tongue waiting for me to continue. “Adrien agreed to come with me to that show you’re walking in on Saturday.”
“And why would he do that?”
“I would like to assume it’s because he likes me and wants to spend time with me, but that’s just a guess. Who knows for sure?”
Chloe tsked and the line went dead before I could even say another word. I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. At least the one thing I could count on was for Chloe to remain constant.
Never mind anything else that occurred, the only thing I had to concentrate on was my date. Forget Tim, forget Lila. I had a perfect date on Saturday and that was the only thing that mattered.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“So, enjoying your backstage luxury? Honestly, you’re drooling as if you haven’t eaten in days looking at all these up-and-coming designers.”
I unconsciously wiped the drool that had seeped at the corner of my mouth as I turned in circles taking in the landscape. It wasn’t much. A bunch of thrown-together counter space and curtain dividers, but the hope and exhaustion on everyone’s face as their hard work finally came to light was what made it so fascinating for me..
“I can’t help it, Chloe. I know I told Adrien that it wouldn’t be that exciting, but to be honest, it’s so gratifying watching them. Maybe I’ll take my hobby seriously and find myself here one day. You’ll wear my designs, right Chloe?”
“Mm, you’ll have to prove to me that your designs are worth my time.” She stuck out her tongue, her eyes taunting me to retaliate. “Besides, I know this is all just a deflection Dupain-Cheng. You’re avoiding the original question I asked when you first got here.”
My body stiffened slightly as I shifted my gaze to a nearby model having their make-up fixed. Anywhere but Chloe was a good place to look seeing as the burning sensation in my skull indicated that she was most likely throwing her killer glare in my direction.
“I told you, Chloe, he said he would meet me here and he just hasn’t texted me yet.”
“That sounds like a load of bullshit to me, but whateves.” It was odd that he hadn’t called me or even shot a single text. We were supposed to meet up an hour ago but after thirty minutes of waiting and three missed calls from Chloe, I decided I would wait inside for him to contact me. “The show will be starting soon so you should try and find a decent seat. Maybe lover boy can find the guts to show up before I walk.”
I nodded before edging my way to the curtain separating the audience from the models. Peeking through, my eyes scanned for a certain blonde but alas, he still wasn’t here. I excused myself to the nearest row with two seats left, placing my purse and jacket into the empty one in hopes Adrien would fill it soon.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the announcer jumped on stage, his enthusiastic voice failing to capture my full attention. When Chloe would ask me later if I liked the show, I couldn’t even begin to tell her what she modeled. My thoughts were elsewhere, wondering just why he never even read a single text.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I got my answer just hours after returning from Chloe’s show. In reality, I hadn’t moved from my bed, not particularly sad, just mentally exhausted. It was only after I had finally decided to brush it off as a dead battery or some freak accident, I received a text from someone I never imagined.
“Hey xinh đẹp, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I just couldn’t let this slide.”
Kim had attached a video, nearly a minute long. My heart jumped as I saw the screen frozen on Adrien’s face surrounded by dozens of people, Lila hanging right off of his arm. Was this why he was late? Did he go to break up with Lila? It would explain why he couldn’t answer me.
With a shaky breath, I pressed play, my heart threatening to drop at any moment.
“The fuck is this?”
“Tim?” His name almost sounded foreign in my mouth. What was Tim doing at Lila’s party?
“Leave it be Wayne.”
“Yeah Timmyboo, just leave it be.” Lila giggled as she brought Adrien’s face to hers, leaving small sloppy kisses all over his face. It almost made me sick to my stomach. That looked nothing close to breaking up.
“You told her that you were leaving this bitch! You lied to Marinette.”
“Oh c’mon Tim. Marinette’s nice and all, but her crush on me was overbearing and what was it going to give me in return? Huh?”
“She would’ve given you the world if you asked! How can you not realize that? When Marinette loves someone, she does it with her whole heart. If I had your chance, you bet your life I would never waste it like this!”
Tim… was serious. All those times, he was serious. I can’t believe I thought it was a joke when Tim was constantly pouring his heart out to me.
“Like she would ever give you a chance Wayne. Not after you made it so easy for me to get her to hate you. I’ll let her know eventually, but in reality, she has nothing. Especially compared to Lila. It’s like father always said, relationships are only good for what they can offer yo-”
Adrien never got to finish his sentence as Tim’s fist connected with his face. I could hear Kim let out a string of cusses as the video cut out. There was nothing I could do as I stared at my phone, still processing what I had seen, what I had heard. I stared until the screen blackened and all that was left was my own shocked expression.
For some reason, it didn’t hurt that bad hearing Adrien’s words. Somewhere deep inside of me must have realized that fascination with someone from where I grew up way outshined the actual connection I had made up.
“Tim,” He tried to protect me. It wasn’t just some jealous ulterior motive; Tim just didn’t want to see me hurt. And speaking of Tim, “my God, I have to find Tim!”
I pushed off my bed, racing down the stairs and out the front of the bakery. Maman glanced sideways at me as I zipped past, but she did nothing to stop me, a seemingly knowing smile plastered on her face. I’m sure I’ll deal with her teasing later, but that wasn’t the important thing at the moment.
No, the only thing that mattered was finding-
“Marinette?” My feet planted themselves, my arms involuntarily shooting out to balance myself. Before I had even turned, my heart was already jumping in my throat. “Marinette, where are you going?”
I couldn’t stop myself as I stumbled forward, my steps clumsy as I made my way to where he stood.
“Marinette? I-oof” I threw myself into Tim, my arms tightening around him in fear that if I let go, he would somehow slip away from me. He hesitated for a moment before I felt his own arms wrap themselves around me.
We stood there as seconds passed, neither speaking, just simply holding on for dear life.
“I love you.” His heart raced, reacting to my words much the same as my own. “I’m sorry for everything Tim. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize you never once were joking about your feelings for me. I’m sorry that I let a stupid boy come between me and my best friend. But most of all, I’m sorry that I never had the courage to say it sooner. I love you, Tim.”
All too quickly he pulled back, his hand rushing to his face in an attempt to cover the spreading red.
“You-ou-you-you can’t just spring that on me! I didn’t have any time to prepare. And you took away my big moment! You have no idea the demons that I literally fought to finally work up the courage to come confess! Marinette!”
I felt the giggle bubbling up as Tim attempted to compose himself, the blush ever-burning as it moved to brush against his neck.
“I guess I should add that to my apology speech too huh?”
“Yes! You should! I want a formal apology later for ruining something that I have been planning for since we were kids.”
“And what about now?” Tim cocked his head as I took a small step forward in an attempt to close the space between us. “If that’s what you want for later, what do you want for now?”
I could practically see the wheels turning in Tim’s head as he tentatively reached out, grasping my face as lightly as he could with both hands. Time seemed to stop as he pulled me forward, his breath quick and uneven, much like my racing heart.
“I want to kiss the woman I love, but only if she wants me to.”
“What a coincidence, I also was thinking that I would love to kiss the man in front of me.”
We both moved forward, our lips and teeth colliding at the same time.
“Ow!” Tim released one hand as he covered his mouth. There was a moment of silence before we both erupted, our laughter mingling as it filled the night air. “Somehow, that felt exactly like us.”
I could only nod as my laughter faded out, an ear-splitting smile taking its place.
“It’s okay though because now we can try again any time.”
Tim smiled as he leaned forward once more. “Good, because I would love to try again right now.”
His lips were soft and his kiss was gentle and described in a single word; perfect. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against my own, his heart practically jumping through his shirt.
“Is this real?”
“It is.”
I shared his sentiment. It didn’t feel real that after all this time, after everything that had happened, we had finally found our way back to each other.
I’m sorry if this wasn’t the happy ending you were waiting for. After all, I did warn you that it wasn’t your typical girl meets boy.
In the end, I never quite figured out my question; how do you survive in an extraordinary world when you’re only average? After everything, I still don’t have anything definite, but I suspect that it becomes infinitely easier when you fall in love with your best friend.
As I met Tim’s eyes in our last moments alone that night, the only thought occupying my mind was that never again would I ever let him go.
I found the person that makes my average life extraordinary and he’s always been right by my side.
“Never leave Tim, okay?” I could feel the warmth from his smile before it even appeared.
“You’re only stuck with me for the rest of your life and any time after that.”
I reached forward, intertwining our fingers, relishing in the perfect fit. This was everything I had been searching for and now it was quite literally in my grasps.
This, well this was only the beginning of our story, but that’s a tale for another time, right?
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I’ve Never Felt So Helpless
Read here on AO3!
Summary:
“Tim.”
“In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—”
“Tim!”
“What?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.”
Tim is a simple man, no matter what anyone else says. Does he fight crime in tights? Yes, and proudly. Does he guiltily watch the occasional Riverdale episode because he had a crush on Cole Sprouse growing up and owes this to his prepubescent self? Obviously. Would he like to enjoy a relaxing night every once in a while, devoid of supervillains and near-death experiences? One hundred percent. Tim has stated this precise case upwards of a dozen times tonight, yet here he is, exhausted and covered in plant matter from a fight with Poison Ivy. All because Steph wanted to handle Ivy’s escape from Arkham themselves despite the fact that she and Tim specifically asked for tonight off so they could have some alone time for the first time in weeks. Tim bought sparkling cider, dammit. “You are way too hung up on this,” Stephanie says, wringing out her hair from when Ivy chucked her into a pond. They stand together on a rooftop, watching the final squad car pull away from the scene. It is not nearly as satisfying as it should be. “I wanted one night. One.” “There will be other nights, Tim. Besides, we caught Ivy before she could do any major damage. I call that a job well done.” “At the cost of our date night!” “Oh, like you’ve never canceled plans to fight crime. You’ve blown me off for supervillains plenty of times. So have I. But this time, we got to do it together, which I think counts as a date night.” “It doesn’t, actually. Normal people do things like going out to dinner, catching a movie, taking romantic walks on the beach. I want to be like that.” Steph turns to face him. She plants her hands on her hips. “Tim.” “And, you know, I can’t remember the last time we got to have a date night that didn’t involve punching someone. Do you know how insane that is?” “Tim.” “In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—” “Tim!” “What?” “You’re bleeding.”
Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.” Steph is in front of him in an instant, one hand pressed against his neck and making him hiss. “How does the world’s greatest detective not realize he’s got a giant gash in his neck?” Should Tim be feeling this woozy already? It must be the adrenaline rushing out, leaving him a puppet without strings. “There was a razor vine, but I thought it missed me.” His legs shake, dangerously close to giving out. Steph takes notice and helps lower him to the ground so they’re on their knees, facing each other. “Clearly, it didn’t. Take your cowl down, let me see.” Tim obeys. Steph has to let go of the wound for a moment so he can loosen the cape from around his neck. It’s only a second, but Tim already feels warm blood seeping down his collar, soaking into the fabric of his uniform. “Shit,” Steph hisses when she gets a good look. Her hands fly back to press against the wound. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” She fumbles in her belt for a pad of gauze. She pins it to his throat, trying to keep the blood inside of him where it belongs. “It didn’t hit an artery, did it?” That would...well, it would be pretty damn bad. Life-threatening, if it isn’t already. “I don’t think so. The gash is too low.” She presses harder when blood leaks from a gap in her fingers. “It shouldn’t be bleeding this much, should it? The wound isn’t even that big. I don’t think your blood is clotting like it should.” Tim goes even paler than he already is. “Oh.” “Oh?” “Ivy. She sprayed me with something.” He winces as the wound throbs. “During the fight.” “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” “I was busy! And I felt fine, so I figured I would run a blood test when we got back to the cave. I didn’t think she would do something to my blood.” “Damn it. Okay.” Steph closes her eyes, thinking. “Can you reach your communicator?” “Yeah, I think so.” Tim reaches for his utility belt, tilting his head to see better. That small motion causes Steph’s hand to slip, allowing another gush of blood to spurt from his neck. “Shit, shit, shit.” She repositions, gets a better grip on the wound. “Don’t move your head.” Tim swallows nervously. “We good now?” “I think so. Just...be careful, okay? Small movements. You’ve already lost too much blood, so I want to keep you as plugged up as possible.” “Kinky.” “Shut up.” Tim manages to locate the communicator and turn it on. Just in time, too. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, the blood drying on his neck and sticking to his skin. If he wasn’t anemic before, he certainly is now. The communicator crackles. “You’ve got Oracle. I thought you and Batgirl were off duty tonight.” “We are,” Steph says. “Listen, can you patch me through to whoever can hypothetically get me and Red Robin to the cave as fast as humanly possible?” “What happened?” “We had a run-in with Ivy. She’s taken care of, but she did something to Red. Something to keep his blood from clotting. He’s got a laceration on his throat and I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I don’t know how much longer we have.” “Sending an ambulance to your location.” “Negative. His face is uncovered, so a regular hospital is off the table. It needs to be the Batcave.” “Got it, I’ll transfer you to Batman. He can take you in the Batmobile. I’ll call Leslie Thompkins and have her meet you guys there.” “Tell her to hurry.” Steph’s voice wavers, anxious. Tim wants to reassure her that he’ll be fine, but it’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate, like he’s a radio trying to tune to the right station. He tips forward and presses his forehead against Steph’s shoulder, his body sagging. She keeps him upright, careful not to loosen her grip on the gauze. Finally, the communicator beeps. “Batman here. What is it?” Steph runs through their situation again, leaving Tim free to drift as he pleases. Steph is warm against him, like a fresh latte. There’s blood in her hair. Tim runs his fingers through the bloody patches, trying to separate the clumps. Something prods his shoulder. “Hm?” “I asked how you’re doing.” Bruce doesn’t sound nervous—he never does. But Tim knows him better than most. He can tell when he’s worried. “I’m hanging in,” Tim manages. “How long ‘til you get here?” “I’m ten minutes out. You think you can hold on until then?” “Mm-hm.” Honestly, Tim isn’t sure if he can. But at least Bruce won’t worry as much if he thinks Tim is going to be okay. “Batgirl, do either of you have an Ivy antidote on you?” “I have a couple for her general toxins, but I don’t know how they’d do with this one. Should I give it a shot anyway?” “No, it might make things worse. Keep me updated on his condition. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Batman, out.” A click. Tim tosses aside the communicator, uncaring of whether he turned it off properly or not. The ground rocks beneath him, like the rooftop is floating on a roiling ocean. Steph’s free hand runs through his hair, soothing on his scalp. “Sweetie, are you still with me?” “Mm.” “Stay awake, okay? Just for a little longer.” Tim nods against her shoulder. Steph releases a breath. “Good. Now, do you think you can reach into my belt and get some more gauze? This one is soaked through.” Already? That’s a bad sign. Tim doesn’t move his head from her shoulder. “Which pocket?” “Uh...second one on the left of my right hip, I think? I usually go by muscle memory.” Tim checks the pocket and finds no gauze, but there is a stick of gum and a few rubber bands. “Next to that one, maybe?” Still nothing. “Steph, do you actually know what you’re doing?” “Look, it’s easier when I can see it, okay? Here, bunch up your cape. I can use that for now until Bruce gets here.” It takes some careful maneuvering for Tim to reach his cape without moving his head or neck, but he manages to fold it the best he can. He hands it to Steph, so brings it close to the wound. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to switch off now. Ready?” Tim nods. “Do it.” She’s quick about it. She yanks away the soiled gauze and replaces it with the cape in seconds, but blood eagerly spills out as soon as it’s free. Tim’s vision goes blotchy, the darkness behind his eyelids sprinkled with stars. He hisses when Steph crams the fabric against the wound hard enough to make him want to jerk away. He doesn’t, though, just digs his fingers into her shoulder and takes deep breaths through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs. “It’ll stop hurting in a bit.” She presses a kiss to his hair. “I’ve got the bleeding under control, I think.” “You think or you know?” “I think.” That’s not at all reassuring. Even so, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind as long as it’s Steph with him. He would gladly put his life in her hands, and now that he’s here, he’s content. He trusts her. “Tim?” “Hm?” “I changed my mind.” “On what?” “We should have done a date night instead.” Tim snorts, but it’s weak. More a huff than anything. “This isn't so bad. ‘Least we’re together.” “Yeah, covered in blood on a freezing rooftop. Very romantic.” Tim hums, presses his nose to her neck and closes his eyes. She smells like lavender. “You’re pretty.” “Stop that.” “Stop what?” “Stop talking like you’re dying.” “‘m just making an observation. You’re pretty.” There is blood covering both of their uniforms, smeared across the bat symbol on Steph’s chest. Her face glistens with sweat from the fight, and there’s a bruise on the side of her jaw. She’s still gorgeous. “You’re a dork.” Tim hums. His stomach rolls and his heart picks up until he can feel it throbbing in his skin, like his pulse is racing to get out. He closes his eyes. “I don’t feel good.” “Bruce is going to be here in a few minutes. Hang in there, alright?” How much blood has he lost by now? Two pints? Three? How much longer does he have before the point of no return? Even as Steph keeps pressure against the wound, he can feel rivulets running down his neck. She can’t keep the bleeding at bay forever. “I love you...y’know that?” “Don’t say that. I’m not kidding.” “Someone should...should feed m’cat. Ruby’s tiny, but she eats a lot.” “Bruce is on his way, Tim. You’re gonna be fine. Don’t fall asleep yet.” “I’m losing blood,” he mumbles against her shoulder. “Humans...need blood to survive. ‘m gonna go into hypovolemic shock soon, and then it’s over.” He can barely lift his head now. There are weights attached to his eyelids. “Stay awake, Tim. You hear me?” Steph’s voice trembles, and Tim feels awful for putting her through this. She deserves better. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.” Tim wants to reassure her, to tell her she’s right, if only to keep her from making those shaky crying noises. There are tears dripping on his shoulder. He wants to stick around, keep Stephanie from feeling the hurt that’s about to come, but his pulse is racing too quickly to keep up with blood it can’t circulate. He hears Steph’s voice somewhere above, calling his name, but she’s too far away. Tim lets himself sink into the darkness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Steph hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet. She knows she should. She’s sticky, covered in blood that dries on her suit in rusty red flakes. The blood is thick in her hair, on her hands, soaked into the fabric over her knees. Tim’s blood.
She can still feel it—feel Tim’s fluttering pulse under her fingertips, growing weaker and weaker with every passing second. The weight of him against her shoulder, slumped as if he was already dead. And then the agonizing moment where she felt him let go, sagging against her like a corpse. She wants to forget it. To forget this entire night, wipe it clean from her memory. Pretend that everything is still okay, even when it isn’t. “How are you doing?” Steph looks up at Bruce. She didn’t even hear him come in. He hands her a cup of coffee, which she takes in cold hands. “I’m fine.” Her voice suggests otherwise. “He’s going to be okay.” Steph looks back at Tim asleep on the medical cot, his skin as pale as a cadaver's. A bag of O-negative hands beside the bed, pumping blood into his body through an IV. Another IV pricks his other arm, delivering the antitoxin. He looks dead. He was unconscious for a full three minutes before Bruce arrived on that rooftop, lifeless in Steph’s arms. It was the most terrifying three minutes of her life. “Stephanie.” Bruce’s face is stern but sympathetic, his eyes gazing into her own. “You did good tonight.” “He nearly died.” “But he didn’t. You saved his life. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Steph can count on one hand the number of times Bruce has said that to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Alfred prepared a room for you upstairs. You look like you could use some sleep.” Steph shakes her head. “I think I’ll stay here for a while. Just until he wakes up.” Bruce nods and leaves, his footsteps echoing off the cave walls. Steph reaches out and grasps one of Tim’s cold hands in her own. His fingertips were pale before, almost blue, but they are slowly returning to their rightful shade. She sighs. Fuck it. She leaves the coffee on her chair and climbs into the bed beside Tim, pulling herself close and resting her head on his chest. She can hear his heartbeat under her ear, steady and unfaltering. She closes her eyes. “Don’t do that again, okay?” she whispers. “Or I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”
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ezilyamuzed · 4 years
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Ten Years Gone- Chapter Two
Description: Ten years ago, your world had changed. Ten years ago, you had met him, leading your life to never be the same again. Time is running out, but is it too late after all these years?
Word Count: 4677
Warnings: Language, angst, death (I think that’s about it)
A/N: This takes place at the beginning of season 2. I re-watch specific episodes to integrate the story in as much as I can into the real one (some things are bound to be reworked a bit!) This process takes lots of time, so please let me know what you think. Also I suggest a re-watch anyways because - come’on, they’re worth it!
Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! Please  leave a comment if you like it, it keeps me motivated to continue! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!  
TEN YEARS GONE MASTERLIST
*Picture and lyrics used are not mine. Led Zeppelin is Amazing.
* Flashbacks are all BOLD and Italicized.
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Did you ever really need somebody? And really need 'em bad. Did you ever really want somebody? The best love you ever had. 
 It had been four days since they arrived back. Sam was busy hounding a million questions out of Bobby about demons and going through lore while Dean kept himself busy trying to salvage what he could from the wreckage. You stayed off to the side for the most part, watching and listening to them while you worked on your own car and muddled through possible cases. There was something they weren’t telling Bobby and you, and by the way he was acting, there was something Dean was keeping from Sam too. What it was, you didn’t have a clue, but it had to be big the way that Dean kept silent.  
“Hey, figured you needed a drink or something,” you stated while offering Dean a beer while he was crutched down to take off the broken fender. 
“Thanks,” he replied while standing up, taking it from your hands. 
He popped off the top, almost emptying it in one large gulp before pulling it away and wiping his mouth off with his sweaty forearm. The sweat poured down him and glistened off his sun touched skin. You would be lying if you said that it wasn’t a complete turn on at the moment where it was a little hard not to stare. 
“Was there anything else?” He asked as he tipped it back again, taking another large sip.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing out here,” you replied with a tight smile. “Didn’t know if you needed help.”
“I got it,” he said as he handed you back the empty bottle and went back to his spot on the ground. “Why don’t you go see if Sam wants help? The boy could use it.”
“Yeah, I don’t feel like going through books I’ve read 100 times before,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s not going to find what he wants in there. Nothing about a yellow eyed demon.”
“So you know about Azazel huh?” He scoffed. “Guess Bobby filled you in.”
“Something like that,” your words trailed off with your thoughts. Azazel. You had a name now.”I mean, you probably know more than me about him.”
“Nope,” Dean popped off his lips, stopping you from finding out anything else. 
You weren’t going to take his ‘Nope’ for an answer. Even more now you knew he was hiding something. You just had to try harder. 
 “I’m starving so I’m going to grab some burgers. Want one?”
“You really have to ask that,” he laughed while looking up to you, a little grease on the side of his freckled clad nose. 
“Wasn’t sure if you had enough grease to last ya there on your face Winchester,” you chuckled before walking away. 
While waiting on your order to be done at the diner, you made your way to the liquor store nearby to replenish the fallen soldiers of Bobby and the Winchester’s 2 day binge. Hell, you were the one dying but their livers were probably going to give out before then if they continued the way they were. 
“Hey trouble,” a voice rang as you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
“That better be Josh or I’m going to kick someone’s ass,” you said as you pushed his arms off.
You turned to him and saw his smile, brightening up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Didn’t know you were still in town.”
“Didn’t think I had to tell you,” you stated as you turned back around, waiting for your turn at the register.
“Well since you’re in town,” he purred out. “What do you say later tonight…”
“Isn’t there someone else that you could be asking that question?” You snapped, annoyed at how he was only thinking with his tiny brain in his shorts at the moment. 
“They’re not as fun,” he grinned. “ A couple drinks and you could come back to my place. Have a good time like always?” 
“Yeah well I’m busy,” you scoffed as you put the various bottles up on the counter from your basket.
After paying, you ignored him asking you to call him. He was getting attached. Like a dog searching for his bone, which was not what you had agreed to years before. Maybe in another life you would have given him more of a chance than a couple late night drunken hookups to mask your loneliness, but that wasn’t your reality. You had practically a year left, why put someone through the ache of losing you? Hurting Bobby was enough and now that John was dead, you felt the anger sitting idly in the pit of your stomach towards that yellow eyed bastard. No, you had better things to do. He had to die even if it was the last thing you did, and time was running out. 
You pulled up to the house and saw Dean kicking the hell out of the spot where the fender was. You sat in silence until you saw him walking around with his hands on top of his head in defeat. Something bad had happened or he finally let reality hit him. 
“I don’t think that’s the right technique to fix her Dean,” you said carrying the bags in your hands.
“Yeah, well, it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. “Forget it. You got food?”
“Extra bacon and pickles right?” You asked while holding up the greased stained bag although you knew the answer. 
“Extra onion?”
“Hell no. You stink enough right now without it.”
He grabbed the bag from your hand and led the way into the house. Sam was sitting on the couch still stuck in a book while Bobby sat dozing off at his chair.
“Grub is here,” you called out, snapping their attention to you. “Burgers, fries, and even pie for after.”
Dean was already elbows deep into the bag pulling out the contents when the other two finally got up from their spots. It only took a moment of muttered ‘thank you’s’ after they grabbed their food that they all went right back to their same spots.
“You’re welcome,” you whispered in annoyance. 
After eating you made your way out to the garage to work on your car. The a/c seemed to work now, but while you were here you figured you might as well give her an oil change and that to keep her pristine. You were just about to get up from pulling the drain plug when you heard Dean whistle before chuckling to himself.
“Y/N under the hood. Now there’s a sight I never thought I would see.”
You wiggled your way out and gave him a hard glare and a flip of the finger as you sat up in your spot.
“Bite me.”
He laughed at your childish comeback as he rummaged through the tool box. It was nearing dark where he should have stopped, but you could see he was just trying to distract himself from his thoughts. Your curiosity wanted more answers and getting to him was probably your best shot. Problem was that he was too damn stubborn to say more. He went to leave after picking up a wrench when an idea came to you.
“Hey Dean,” you called out while standing up.
“Yeah?” He turned towards you.
“After I’m done here, how about we get out of here for a bite and get a drink? You know for old times sake.” 
You could see the hesitation in his eyes, before he gave you a nod that he was at least willing to have a drink with you. That was at least a start. Now the challenge was how many drinks does it take to make a Winchester spill their secrets?
After finishing up and cleaning yourself up you found Dean still outside, now maneuvering with the dim light of the moon and stars.
“Ya ready for that drink?” You asked as you approached.
“Just finishing up,” he stated without any enthusiasm.
You pushed your hand on top of his as he went to sand down the finish, stopping him to make him look at you.
“Come on Dean,” you stated. “She’ll be here in the morning. Go clean up a bit and let's relax for a second.”
He let out a low growl in defeat as he laid down the pad and went into the house. Dean Winchester sure was a stubborn man, but it seemed that you still had one Ace up your sleeve; he couldn’t say no to you.
After allowing Dean to drive, which took a lot of will power on your end to agree to, the two of you made it to the closet bar.
“Hey Y/N!” You heard your name being called. “The usual?”
“Make it two,” you smiled at the bartender Tony who had been serving you since you printed out your first fake ID.
The two of you sat off to the side. Dean almost immediately drinking all of his whiskey before you could take a sip. 
“Jesus man,” you teased. “Let a girl catch up!”
He gave a slight chuckle as he shook his head.
“Oh darlin, I don’t think you could ever catch up to me.”
That was your opening to get to him, so you played the part of being annoyed. 
“Want to bet on that one?” You challenged.
“If you feel like losing,” he laughed a little more.
“Drink for drink,” you stated back with confidence. “First one to tap out, get sick, or pass out has to do whatever the other person tells them to until the sun comes up.”
“You’re really that confident huh?” He shook his head again. “Fine. Agreed. It’s your funeral.”
You took the drink and shot it back in a gulp earning a chuckle from Dean. You wiped your mouth and gave him a wink. 
“Oh baby, you ain’t seen nothin yet.”
After a pitcher and a dozen shot glasses in front of you, he was just starting to open up. 
“I think the bartender has a thing for you,” Dean said while pouring himself another beer from the new pitcher after Tony sat it down. 
“Why would you say that?”
“He keeps looking over here,” his eyes moving towards Tony’s direction.
“Yeah, I’m not the one he’s looking at,” you stated with a smile. “I’m far from his type.”
“Why would you say that? You’re hot,” Dean exclaimed. “I mean, if you like the whole tough and stubborn girl act you got going on.”
“Well, I’m missing a couple things he likes,” you laughed. “Broad shoulders. Big hands. The extra appendage between my legs.”
Dean has almost choked on his drink as you let the last part pop off your lips. He started chuckling to himself while nodding his head.
“Yeah, guess you’re not his type.”
“Nope, but tell me about this whole ‘you’re hot’ thing you just blurted out,” you winked while taking a sip.
Dean’s face had started to flush. Probably a little bit of embarrassment but most likely because of all the alcohol finally hitting him. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a familiar voice behind you. 
“You’re busy huh? Yeah I see with what,” Josh snarked, already way past hammered to arrive at the bar.
Before you could talk Dean had turned his head and cocked up his eyebrow towards him. 
“You have a problem with old friends having a drink there buddy?” He stated before taking another sip.
“I do when it’s you,” Josh seethed.
“And who might you be?”
“Dean, you remember Josh from high school. You know the one you embarrassed in front of his friends when we were teenagers for talking out of his ass like usual,” you commented. “Seriously Josh, get out of here before I embarrass you.”
“Fuck you bitch.”
“What did you call her?” Dean stood up quick, scrapping the chair legs on the floor.
“And fuck you too bitch,” Josh stated with his head held high to Dean, challenging him.
Before Dean could even move you had already cocked back your arm and hit Josh in the face so hard that he knocked back into the wall. Tony was already at your side but was only quick enough to grab him before he hit the floor.
“Better get out of here Y/N before the sheriff comes looking for you,” Tony said as he pulled Josh out to the back. “I’ll cover for you what I can. I saw self defense.”
“Thanks Tony,” you replied as you laid down a handful of $20’s on the counter. “Come on Dean. Let’s go.” 
Dean looked at you puzzled but followed your lead after downing the rest of his drink. When you reached your car you felt his hand on your wrist, stopping you to say something.
“What the hell was all of that for?”
“A mistake I’ve made more than once,” you answered. “That’s all.” 
“Seriously? With that douche?” 
“The sex was good,” you blurted with sass. “Him being an asshole made it easier not to give two shits about anything more.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing all these years? Hooking up with assholes?”
“What else? Find someone I care about that’s too chicken to stand up for himself? Someone I have given up everything for?” You blurted back, hitting him with the knife that was in your heart all these years.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in confusion. 
You just shook your head with a scoff and a quick laugh as you thought about your impending doom all because you were a stupid teenager in love. Most ironic part is he didn’t even know.
“Nothing,” you sighed out. “Let’s get going before the sheriff comes alright? I’m already on her bad list.”
The car ride was quiet except for the old Zepplin tape that was playing in the background. When you got back to Bobby’s you found that he was already passed out at his desk per usual and Sam was asleep upstairs.
You grabbed the remains of the bottle on the desk and took it with you as you walked back outside to the night air to the garage. It was well after midnight now. Happy birthday to you. One year left. 
Swinging away at it, you sat yourself on the bench, thinking about how your chance to get out of your deal with taking down Azazel was probably ruined now that Dean knew what type of person you have become.
“You know drinking alone isn’t always that fun,” Dean said as he walked in, carrying another bottle in his hands. “I do believe that we had a bet.”
“Let’s call it a tie,” you said before drinking more down in a thirsty gulp.
“Since when do you give up so easily?” He smirked. “I remember a girl who was so stubborn and brave that she put John Winchester in his place.”
“And look how well that one turned out,” you shook your head while staring at the ground.
“You know, there was always something I never quite understood,” Dean stated as he sat next to you. “What happened that day that Bobby threatened to kill him? I mean, you were with him. Did he…”
“He didn’t do anything,” you stated firmly. “I was an idiot and put myself into some trouble. He just happened to be there.”
“So what was it?”
You let out a deep breath, contemplating telling him what had happened, but now that his dad was gone you didn’t know how he would react. You didn’t know what he would even think of the fact that you were going to die because of him.
“Doesn’t matter,” you replied. “Can’t change the past.”
“True,”Dean nodded before taking another sip. “Wish I could.”
“Don’t we all.”
“So why did you really get into hunting? You were smart as hell, you could have done something else. Something less dangerous like bungee jumping.”
His comment made you snicker with the comparison of fighting monsters less dangerous than jumping off of high places. 
“It became what I know, what my family does. Yeah it’s risky, but the rewards of helping someone isn't too bad to live with,” you replied. “What about you? Ever think to give it up now that it isn’t expected of you? Maybe settle down or something?”
“Maybe, but I guess I’m like you too where it’s what I know. It’s what I’m good at.”
“You’re good at other things too.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I’ve watched you working on Baby. You’re not too bad at it. Probably could open your own shop or something,” you shrugged. “Or maybe become a legit detective to solve mysteries. Having legal access to files and a paycheck wouldn’t be a bad thing.” 
“God, I’d have to have to be normal and stop scamming credit cards and hustling pool,” Dean laughed. “Give up all the fun for responsibility.”
“Not all the fun. You could still chase down the bad guys and get the adrenaline rushing. High speed chases, frisky women.”
“Names Winchester, Dean Winchester,” Dean replied in a horrible James Bond accent.
“Anyways,” you chuckled. “Tell me more of what’s going on. Bobby somewhat filled me in that Sam was at Stanford when your dad had gone missing and the two of you have been together since.”
“Yeah, I was doing a hunt alone and after not hearing anything for a while I wanted back up.”
“So what now? You two are going back at it or what?”
“Not sure,” He exhaled. “Kind of stuck at the moment. I know that he needs to go back. He was out and it was good for him, even if I want to be selfish and keep him around.” 
“I don’t think it’s selfish necessarily. I mean, you could go with him and at least have a home to go to after being on the road.”
“Maybe,” Dean’s eyes and voice trailed off in his response. “Remember the last time we were in here?”
“You mean like 6 hours ago?” You laughed, knowing damn well that night he was referring to. 
“Smartass,” he smirked. “No, I was teaching you to fight and Sam caught me kissing you.”
“Yeah, poor kid. Probably scarred him for life,” you chuckled while taking a drink.
“Ever think about that?”
You furrowed your eyebrows to him, wondering why he would bring that up after all these years. You didn’t want to tell him that you had worked hard to forget it, but never really couldn’t. The only thing that mustered out of you was a simple ‘why?’
“I don’t know. Maybe just reminiscing a bit,” he shrugged before taking another drink.
“Uh huh, I think you’re drunk there Winchester. You’re getting all sensitive and girly over there.”
“Shut up,” he laughed.
“Make me,” you challenged.
That was the only encouragement he needed to swiftly move his hands to ferociously tickle your sides making you squirm and giggle in your spot.
“Still ticklish I see,” he grinned while continuing. 
“Dean, stop it! I’m going to piss myself, you ass!”
That of course didn’t make him stop. He kept at it, now standing in front of you as you fell back into the table with tears from laughter streaming from your eyes.
“Dammit Dean, I’m going to kick your ass!” You gasped out in between giggles.
“I’d like to see you try,” he laughed as he slowed down to a stop.
He settled his hands on either side of you, pushing up his weight as he smiled down to you beat red face.
“Made ya shut up for a second,” his grin widening with pride.
“That’s because you're a damn cheater,” you retorted.
Your phone buzzed and dinged of an incoming message, making Dean push himself back so you could get up to retrieve it.
Happy birthday Y/N! Hope you’re doing well and not with some rando! Got a case for you. Ya busy? I need to buy you a drink or two to celebrate after. -Jo 
Jo Harvelle, one of your best friends that you met through Bobby had a case for you. That would have been a good thing, but you weren’t ready to leave unanswered questions just yet
Thanks. Might be a few days before I get out there. Working on something. Get another hunter on it just in case. We’ll get together soon. -Y/N
You finished typing and slapped your phone shut before setting it down on the table. You had noticed Dean was watching you the whole time while pretending he didn’t care. He obviously did though, where the shifting of his feet told you he was going to ask the question.
“So was that a guy or something?” He asked before nervously taking a sip from the bottle.
“Why would you think that?”
“What other type of texts do people get at 3 AM?”
“That’s very telling of you there Dean,” you laughed while jumping off the bench to stand. 
You made him wait anxiously as you slowly moved and stretched yourself out before giving him an answer.
“It was a new case by the way, not a hookup text,” you stated while grabbing the bottle from his hands and putting to your lips to take in a deep swallow.
“So you’ll be leaving huh?” Dean’s eyes darkened as he watched the liquid move down your throat. 
“Not right away,” you shrugged while handing him the bottle. “What about you? Leaving as soon as Baby is all fixed?”
Dean stayed silent, a battle of choices clearly happening within his thoughts.
“I mean, with what happened to your dad, I’m sure you’re going to go after that demon,” you pondered out loud, hoping he would take the bait. “I’m sure you have some plan or know how to track it.”
Dean stayed silent, now purposefully keeping his gaze away from yours. You waited a moment to say anything, but the silence was deafening. 
“Whatever,” You huffed out as you started to walk past him back to the house.
His hand gripped your arm tightly, making you stop to look up to him. His eyes were searching for something, but he just looked completely lost. 
“Y/N, I-“ he mumbled, still looking for the right words of whatever he was about to say.
“You know what? I think it’s getting late.” 
He nodded his head while lowering his hand off of you.
“Goodnight Dean.”
“Goodnight Y/N.”
You couldn’t find sleep though as you laid on your bed, trying to figure out how to crack him. He was good, but you were better at keeping secrets. He’d spill soon enough.
 Your phone had chimed again. Jo now curious as to what you were doing.
Are you on a case? Need back up? I’m sure I could sneak from my mom for a day or two. We will make it a girls trip! -Jo
 Poor Jo, stuck in the hunters world, but not allowed to join in on the fun. You’d thought about taking her along once or twice, but Ellen would murder you.
Nah, more like boy trouble. Blast from the past is back and he’s not giving any details on what brought him back. - Y/N
It’s not THE blast from the past is it? The one who you grew up with that you’re still goo goo for? :) -Jo
The very same. Still as gorgeous as ever. Still as frustrating too. -Y/N
Well then you obviously have to stay. Maybe you’ll get laid for once by someone that isn’t a complete Douchebag. -Jo
That one guy from Pittsburgh wasn’t bad.  -Y/N
Uh huh, what was his name? - Jo
Jo had you there. You couldn’t even argue it. No point in ever learning names. No point in ever telling her their names either. Dean included. It was better to leave it alone. Only after a drunken night did you spill how you almost lost your virginity to the only guy you ever cared about, only to have him leave forever and you losing it to some dickwad behind the bowling alley. 
Bite me Jo. I’m off to bed. I’ll leave tomorrow night to help you if things don’t move along here.  -Y/N
Good luck! -Jo
The morning sun had risen when you awoke to the sound of one of Bobby’s best up junkers leaving the property. Turning your head to the clock, it read 10 AM. Guess you really needed the sleep. Walking downstairs you saw Bobby staring out the window with a coffee in his hand just for you.
“Mornin,” you yawned as you grabbed it. 
“You had one hell of a night.”
Your brow cocked up as you took a small sip. 
“What do you mean?”
“You ain’t foolin me Y/N,” Bobby stayed firmly. “Sherif was already calling asking if you were still in town. Described you and Dean. I told her you were soundly sleeping with your bible next to your bed.”
“Great,” you mumbled before taking another sip. “Where is the dynamic duo anyways?”
“Headed towards Ellen’s ,” his words almost making you choke.
“What, why?”
“She left a message on John’s phone that she had a way to help,” Bobby stated with a shake of his head. “I hope they know what they’re getting into.”
“So they know about the roadhouse then?”
“No, but they will,” Bobby stated while walking away, stopping momentarily to look back to you. “By the way Y/N, watch what you do with Dean. That boy has been through enough already. I don’t know what he will do when he finds out that the clock is ticking.”
“Already handling it,” you rolled your eyes as you sat down the cup on the counter.
“Sure ya are,” you could hear the sarcasm dripping as he continued to walk away. “Just be careful and happy birthday.”
With the roll of your eyes you pulled out your phone, texting Jo that you were on your way. 
You hurried to gather up your things and get dressed. Bobby was sitting silently at his desk reading lore as you walked past him to the door.
“Where ya going off to now?” His question making you stop. “Thought we would at least have our family dinner tonight. I was making your favorite.”
“A case just came up,” was the only thing you offered.
“Just running off again then? Not going to stick around for a day or two?” 
“Bobby,” you sighed as you turned back around to the doorway to the living room. “I can’t stay cooped up here. You’re right, the clock is ticking. There’s still more out there that I have to do and I can’t be here if Dean and Sam are. You were right, I can’t get them attached.”
The lie you were spilling to him broke your heart a little as you saw the hurt in his eyes that you were leaving so soon. He wouldn’t approve of you following Sam and Dean. It had to be done.
“So you’re running away,” he shook his head. 
“What do you want me to say? I have 365 days left. There’s only one ending to this, we’ve looked.”
“Just give an old man tonight with ya,” his eyes pleading. “After that you can run off and do what you’d like.”
“Fine,” you sighed in defeat, feeling your heart break for him. He had been the only person in the world that you really considered to be family and you knew that was true for him as well. “Just tonight. And I hope you don’t burn the steaks this time.”
He smiled back with a wink in his eye as he moved to the kitchen, leaving you alone with a feeling of guilt. Whatever Ellen knew, you just prayed that it had something to do with helping them find the demon. To find your one shot of getting out of your demonic deal. 365 days left. It was now or never. 
~~~ So What do ya’ll think? ~~~~
Tags:   @snffbeebee​​ @waywardnerd67​​ @waywardbaby​​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @jaylarkson​​ @ladywinchester1967​​ @wildefire​​ @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @hobby27​​ @iamabeautifulperson18​​ @19agbrown​​ @sonotalice​​ @drakelover78​​ @aloneanddesperate​​ @pisces-cutie​​ @biawol​​ @jamielea81​​ @fallininjapan​​ @justkending​
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sleepyfan-blog · 4 years
Note
4 for Nightmare with a young Cross if you want to?
Fandom: UTMV, specifically the dadmare au by @mutantalientrash
Characters: Dream, Nightmare, Cross, Ink (ish)
Warnings: lying, violence, swearing
Word count: 1,523
Summary: dadmare waits for his brother to bring his son home… Only to find Cross utterly covered in something.
tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey
Nightmare has been pacing in front of the front door for the past ten minutes. Dream was ten minutes late in returning one of his precious children - despite the other had called earlier, having informed him that they would be late for... Reasons that the lighter spirit hadn't wanted to speak of, or couldn't at that particular moment in time. Dream had sounded cheerful... But then again his brother always sounded cheerful, no matter what else he may be thinking or feeling, sticking to his facade as the always-happy guardian of positivity.
He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he felt Dream's magic enter the timeline, and opened the door just as Dream had apparently raised a hand to knock on the dor. "Come in, come in. Where's Cross?"
"He's-" Dream began, fidgeting before hiding his hands, which was never a good sign. What happened this time?
"Right here, papa!" Cross cried out, running out from behind Dream's legs, tackling Nightmare's knees and purring loudly. His adorable little face looked up at him and  - 
"Oh god... What did they do to you?" Nightmare demanded, kneeling down and staring at the strange, colorful patterns all over his son's skull - and the magical paint that covered his son head to toe. He shot Dream a suspicious glare over Cross's head.
"Uncle Ink asked if I wanted to see a bunch of pretty colors! an' I said yes! So he showed me! and he said I could touch them to... So I got paint all over my clothes... Sorry papa... Uncle Dream tried to talk uncle Ink out of it... But I like all of the pretty colors! ... Even if they're all over my clothes... You're not mad... Are you?" The sensitive baby bones asked, nervousness and happiness mixing in his aura.
"I'm annoyed at Uncle Ink, but I'm not mad. Not at him and especially not at you." Nightmare reassured his second youngest, gently patting him on the top of his head. "However, you need to change into clean clothes and wash up, alright? Use lots of soap, and the paint should fade."
"Okie dokie papa! I love you!" Cross chirped cheerfully, rushing off, up the stairs to his room.
"How did Ink end up covering one of my children in paint, Dream?" Nightmare asked, a hint of a growl in his voice. Dream had promised to make sure that Cross was safe... And he was... More or less. 
Dream sighed, rubbing his face with his hands - and Nightmare noted that he, too, was covered in paint. "Ink wanted to show Cross more colors, as the kid stated... So he started to paint colors out of nothing, as he does. Cross got excited about him making things and he - he wanted to help. So he... He somehow copied some of the colors and created faded versions of them. Doing so startled Ink greatly... Did you know that Cross has coding powers?"
"...No, I did not. He doesn't speak about his past, although... From his reaction to Ink, I suspect that the resident creative guardian does know more about where he came from, before it turned into a portion of the anti-void. Has Ink mentioned anything of Cross or his timeline to you?" Nightmare asked, frowning and looking at the inky footsteps that Cross had left on the stairs.
"No. I've tried asking him about it, and he gets really cagey every time that I try. He froze as soon as Cross copied the paints... Everything was awash with purple, and Cross pushed a button - I couldn't read what it said. You've found a baby guardian, I think." Dream murmured softly "And... I know I was... Hesitant at first, when I found out that you were raising kids but... You're... Both you and them are... Are a lot happier and safer, I think. I'm available for babysitting whenever, and... If you... Ever want to talk I... I'll listen. No matter when it is."
"Why are you covered in paint, and what waylaid the two of you from getting home on time? You know how much it worries me when they come home late from excursions." Nightmare responded, a hint of a growl in his voice.
"Ink... As I said before... Ink... Startled, when Cross used that copying power of his. I'm not sure if it does more - it probably does. I managed to raise a shield in time to weather the worst of the attack, but-"
"Ink attacked one of my children? Why the fuck didn't you take him back to me as soon as you two were clear? Is he injured? Does he know that soulless bastard attacked him?" Nightmare hissed, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and shaking him a little, before freezing as the automatic Check he'd done when he'd grabbed Dream revealed that the other was down to a third of his normal HP and his MP was almost gone completely "Stars damn it, I've got some sweets that should heal you up. What the fuck happened?"
"I... Ink made it sound as if he was going to play a game with Cross... But it's not one of the harmless games that We've tried to tell him to play with the kids... I knew it was an actual attack the moment I saw him form it. The shock of the attack weakened the shield I summoned enough for me to be hit with the attack..." Dream explained, shaking with pain and exhaustion, the cheerful mask on his face slipping and shattering as he leaned against his brother, guilt, confusion and worry prevalent in his aura.
Nightmare wanted to demand the other answer a dozen questions, instead he shoved sea tea and cinnabunnies at Dream so that the other could regain enough strength to actually fucking talk. He stayed silent, knowing that Dream would likely tell him.
"-and the three others that followed. That's when I called you. There was some splashback from his attacks, but they either weren't enough to get through Cross's natural armor, or were weakened to the point that they didn't harm him. Ink chased me through a dozen timelines playing tag with the two of us before I was able to shake him off and come here... I didn't want to worry Cross - and speaking Ink's name while he was chasing me like that would summon him instantly... I went through the most unusual timelines I could think of, in order to try to get Ink distracted... When that didn't work I fled through a Tricksterswap, the inhabitants of whom Ink managed to thoroughly irritate, which did the trick. I went through a couple more AUs just to be sure, then came here. I... I don't think Cross knows that we weren't playing a game..." Dream explained wearily, staring into the middle distance as he finished the sea tea, grimacing a little at it's salty taste.
"... Thank you, for protecting my son. I understand why you weren't being more overt, and thank you for trying to keep the location of this AU a secret from the painted bastard. I'll update the wards to make sure he can't get in. You're staying here with me and the kids until you fully recover - don't you dare argue. Ink might go after you again... And you know that we're stronger together... Between your knowledge of his attacks, and his fondness for your positive aura, we should be able to ensure that he won't go after Cross again. I'll come up with a plan, and run it past you once you're better." Nightmare murmured, carrying his injured and exhausted brother over to the living room couch and laying him on it, grabbing a blanket and draping it over Dream, shoving several more cinnabunnies and a hot chocolate into the other's hands. 
"I... Okay... Mnh... Not like I'm in any state to argue with you... And Ink might not remember why... But the important things to him he does write down on his scarf..." Dream mumbled, yawning a little and pouting at him. "Could just go to a positive au and heal."
Nightmare snorted "As if you have the MP to make a portal right now, you're falling asleep as we talk... I'm... Sorry for cursing at you earlier. Thank you for protecting Cross, Dream..."
"You already said that... 'sides... I saw that attack coming... Never knew that they were hurting you... Tried to get them to be nicer... m' sorry for... lots of things..." Dream barely managed out, the exhaustion causing him to slur his words a little.
Nightmare wasn't sure how to respond to that, but as he turned around to see Dream's face, the positive spirit had already fallen asleep. "Sleep well, Dream. There is... There are many things that both of us have done wrong in the past. But you've... helped me, to convince the others to let me keep the children, worried and reluctant as you were at first, and for that I am... Grateful." He goes to check on Cross - who is up to his eye lightss in hot water and bubbles, giggling happily to himself.
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lovemesomerafael · 5 years
Text
It’s Complicated                     Chapter 3:  Protection
Tumblr media
Source:  @barbaoutfits
Chapter 1  Chapter 2  
Rafael was impressed with the way Dr. Rojas presented as an expert witness.  She had plenty of experience testifying, of course, and anyone would listen to her once they heard her credentials, even if she hadn’t been as articulate and poised as she was.   Plenty of expert witnesses were either incapable of speaking at a level understandable by a jury, which was off-putting, or sounded as though they were intentionally dumbing down their words, which was insulting.  Rojas didn’t.  She had an ability to explain complex matters and introduce technical terms in a way that was understandable and relatable without being condescending.  It didn’t hurt that she wore her shiny, black hair in a French twist that would have been severe except for the gently curling strands that escaped it to soften her look, and a simple but elegant suit in a subtle green that flattered her warm, coppery skin tone.  She was accomplished and beautiful but, because of her open, friendly manner, the jury found her attractive rather than threatening.  
Frankie had needed almost no preparation, which was fortunate for both her and Rafael because, after their argument a few days before, they were almost unable to speak to one another normally.  For Rafael, it was difficult to disguise the deep feelings she aroused in him.  He wanted her, there was no question about that.  And, after the way she had responded to him in the interrogation room, he was certain that she wanted him, too.  He would have been very excited by that, except that he also despised what she stood for and found her personally irritating in the extreme.  Even hearing her name generated a physical and emotional heat he had to work around in everything having to do with her.  It was not an ideal situation for a Prosecutor questioning an expert witness in a felony trial. 
It was no easier for Frankie.  In fact, after spending the past two days watching him own this courtroom, dealing with Barba had only become more difficult.  She was always attracted to talent and intelligence, and had a special predilection for men who were clever with language.  Barba was like a rock star on stage as he subtly, expertly maneuvered the trial in exactly the way he intended.  It was exquisite torture to watch him in his perfectly-tailored suits that allowed her to imagine exactly what she would discover if she took them off, until she caught herself being lulled into those thoughts and roughly yanked herself back to the present.  She only wished she could see his facial expressions which, over the last few days, had become entirely fascinating and electrifying to her.  Just watching him lift an eyebrow or twitch his lips could be disturbingly erotic.  She still didn’t like him, but she probably owed Amanda a dozen cupcakes, because she’d skipped right over thinking Barba was hot to desperately wanting to jump him.  Worse, after their argument in the interrogation room, she was fully aware that he knew how she felt. 
Rafael saw the moment Rojas spotted Alan Canady in the courtroom.  It was as though someone had thrown a switch that drained all color from her face and caused tiny beads of sweat to pop out on her forehead.  The fear that instantly clouded her features scared him a little, too.  Fortunately, it was very near the end of her testimony and he was questioning her on redirect, which gave him options.  He sauntered, seemingly casually, toward the witness stand and stood next to her, between her and the jury box. 
“¿Estas bien?”[1] 
“No.  Alan esta aqui.  Cuarta fila.  Mi derecha.”[2]   
“OK.  Escucha, ¿puedes esperar un poco?  Él no puede hacer nada mientras estás en el estrado.”[3] 
“No se-“[4] 
The defense attorney objected to the whispered conversation, which objection the judge sustained. 
“Apologies, your honor, I was just asking the doctor whether she needed a break.” 
“Dr. Rojas?”  The judge lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” Frankie responded, willing her voice not to shake. 
Rafael purposely asked her several questions he knew defense counsel would want to follow up, specifically to keep Frankie safely on the stand after he was done questioning her.  Once he had completed his redirect and had retaken his seat, that allowed him to whisper to Fin Tutuola, sitting next to Sonny Carisi directly behind Barba in the gallery.  While Frankie answered the defense’s follow-up questions, Fin whispered to Carisi, who then left the courtroom, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went.  Fin quietly moved to where Alan Canady was seated in the courtroom and sat down a little too close to him, whispering something that caused Canady to scowl.  But he didn’t get up from his seat.
When the judge excused Frankie from the witness stand, her first instinct was to flee from the courtroom.  Instead, since Carisi had returned, she went to sit next to him.  She had seen what Barba had done, so she knew that Alan was under control for the moment.  But she was still comforted by the fact that she was touching shoulders with an armed police detective who knew the situation.  She wondered who he had called when he briefly left the courtroom.  As court was adjourned for the day, she turned to him to ask, but was surprised when Carisi took her upper arm, saying, “Come with me.”
He led her through the railing to the prosecution table, where Barba was hastily shoving a few things into his briefcase and instructing the junior A.D.A. who was sitting second chair regarding the rest of the materials on the table.   Frankie looked behind her to see that Fin was standing next to Alan, whom he had apparently instructed not to leave his seat.  Alan was glaring daggers at her, with an evil leer that shot a surge of fearful nausea through her.  Barba nodded to Carisi and they led her past the judge’s bench to the door on the other side, Barba before and Carisi behind her.  That level of protection both reassured her and ratcheted up her terror. 
Barba opened up the door to a small room with a scarred wooden table surrounded by a disorganized set of battered, mismatched chairs, with additional chairs along two of the walls. 
 “We’ll be fine in here,” he told Carisi.  “No one can get through that door without getting past the bailiffs, and Canady can’t get into the courthouse armed.”
“Right.  I’mma go back Fin up.  I’ll get the bailiffs to put someone outside this door, and I’ll come get you when Porter gets here.” 
When he left, Frankie began to pace the small room.  Rafael set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a chair.
“Do you want some coffee?”  He asked before sitting. 
She looked alarmed at the question and reached out a hand to him.  “No!  Please, don’t-”   Realizing how that must have sounded, Frankie quickly said, in a softer, more controlled voice, “I’m sorry.  I just meant…”
“I know.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’ll just ask someone to bring us some.  OK?”
“OK.  Yes.  Please.”
She decided to try to sit down while Barba muttered to someone passing in the hall.  It was no good; almost as soon as she’d felt the chair under her, she’d become too agitated to sit still and stood again.  Barba closed the door and turned back to her.  Now that they were alone, they instinctively lapsed into Spanish.
“I saw what you did,” Frankie told him.  “Thank you.” 
“My pleasure.  I’m killing out there, so I don’t want anything to happen that might cause a mistrial.” 
Rather than making her mad, the joke had the intended effect of comforting her.  “Cocky asshole,” she said, shaking her head, her lips twisting into a slight, involuntary grin. 
“Not gonna deny it.”  He took his seat and looked at her.  “You OK?”  
“Yeah.  Thanks to you.  You’re pretty quick on your feet.”  
“You talking about the trial, or – “  he indicated the room.  
“Both.  It’s nice to see that your ego isn’t entirely unwarranted.” 
“Careful, Doctor.  That was dangerously close to a compliment.  Remember who you’re dealing with here.” 
“Oh, I remember, don’t you worry.   But I have to admit, you are sort of killing this trial, and you did just get me out of a jam, so…  I’d say don’t let it go to your head, but why waste my breath?”
Barba’s smile, and the resulting rush of heat, finally got Frankie to sit down.  She wondered how she could possibly be horny at this particular moment, but in this tiny room with this stupidly handsome man who had done nothing all day but impress her, she couldn’t help it. 
They sat, not speaking, Rafael reviewing his notes and Frankie, having jumped up again to pace the room as soon as the surge of hormones cleared her system, making him nervous with her restlessness.  After ten minutes of that, Rafael handed her a report written by the defense’s expert psychiatrist.
“Make yourself useful,” he grunted.  “See if you can think of anything else I can attack this on.” 
She took the report from him, preparing to review it standing up.  “What are we waiting for, exactly?  Fin and Carisi have Alan, why can’t I just leave?”
“Quit complaining and read your report.”
“Well, what’s taking so long?” 
“Doctor, when a team of professionals from three different agencies are working to protect your shapely ass, a little gratitude is generally expected.” 
“You think my ass is shapely?” 
“That’s what you got out of that?  I was calling you ungrateful.”
“And shapely.”
Barba sighed and went back to his notes.  
It was half an hour later when Carisi knocked softly and entered the room.  “Porter’s taken Canady to Federal Plaza,” he told them.  “So Doc, you don’t want to go back to your office right now.  And until we know whether the feds are gonna be able to arrest him, I’m afraid it’s not a good idea to go home, either.”
“It’s a very secure building,” Frankie began. 
“It’s the precinct or Barba’s office.  You pick, and I’ll get you there safely.”  
“But he’s in custody!” 
“He’s not.  He’s being questioned, but he can leave any time unless Porter finds a way to arrest him.  So we need to move now.  Where’d you like to go?” 
“I have a ton of work to do,” she sighed, sounding whiny and ungrateful even to herself.
“My office,” Barba said to Carisi as he re-packed his briefcase.  “I’ll be there prepping all night, anyway, and it’s quieter, so la fresa[5] will at least be able to work in peace.” 
“Barba, you-“  She decided not to finish that thought in front of Sonny. 
Carisi grinned and opened the door, sweeping a hand toward the hallway.  Rafael took the report from Frankie’s hand as he preceded her into the hallway. 
“What’d you call her?”  Carisi asked Barba, speaking across Frankie as though they didn’t flank her protectively as they walked down the hallway. 
“She knows,” Barba smirked. 
   The evening was quiet and actually fairly comfortable as Rafael worked at his desk and Frankie worked on her laptop on the table in his office.  She envied this beautiful space; the plush quietness was much nicer than the industrial government-issue feel of her own office in Federal Plaza.  She’d instantly liked his assistant, Carmen, perhaps because she felt such sympathy for her, having to work for a bully like Barba.  Carmen’s last act before leaving for the day had been to order them Szechuan food from the place Mr. Barba liked so that they could have dinner while they worked. 
Carmen was intrigued.  Francisca Rojas was nothing like Mr. Barba had described her, and his interaction with her was decidedly unlike his interaction with people he disliked as much as he claimed to dislike her.  Besides which, Carmen didn’t need to be as intuitive as she was to see the sizzle between her boss and Dr. Rojas.  As much as Carmen liked Mr. Barba – and she liked him better than any of the attorneys she’d worked for in the past – she found him inexplicable when it came to women.  He relied upon Carmen to do much of the work surrounding his dating life – plan dates and make reservations, get tickets, send flowers, choose gifts – so she knew his tastes.  He claimed to be too busy to do it himself, and that Carmen was much better at that stuff than he was, but she suspected that it was closer to the truth to say that he really couldn’t be bothered.  Mr. Barba dated a lot of beautiful, accomplished women who seemed to like him as much as Carmen did.  But she could never figure out why a man as nice as he was – and he was nice, despite what he wanted the world to think – never seemed to get very emotionally involved. 
When his phone chimed to let him know their food had arrived, Rafael told Frankie he was going down to the front lobby to retrieve it.  The look on her face was only slightly less fearful than it had been at the courthouse when he’d offered to get coffee.
“It’s OK, Doctor.  You couldn’t be safer.  Not only can’t he know you’re here, he couldn’t get in even if he did.  Sit tight, I’ll only be a minute.”  His voice was meant to be reassuring, but she found it distinctly sexy, instead.  She had thought from the beginning that his voice was sexy when he used a certain tone, and now that she thought pretty much everything he did was sexy, she was almost relieved to have him leave the room for a moment.
She took the opportunity to look around.  The first thing she noticed was that his framed diploma showed he had graduated Magna Cum Laude from Harvard Law.  She wasn’t surprised, but she was deeply impressed.  Frankie had only graduated Cum Laude from law school, and she had to imagine that Harvard’s law program was tougher than A&M’s.  She wondered whether Barba had chosen the art on the walls in his office.  She liked it.  She appreciated not only the historical subject matter, but the way the pictures themselves complemented the overall gravitas projected by the office.  Her mouth quirked as she wondered whether Barba had intended that, to lend himself more gravitas.   Not that he needed it, anyone who spent more than five minutes with him would have a healthy respect for his ability, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
He returned sooner than she expected, noting that she was standing in front of a bookshelf studying the titles.  
“Preparing a critique of my reading choices?”
“Hmmmm,” she responded noncommittally.  “I can’t help but notice you have a copy of ‘Twenty-Five Acts’, which is in questionable taste…” 
“Would you believe that was for a case?” 
“Yes, but only because I already knew that.  And that doesn’t explain why you still have it.”  Her mocking half-grin unsettled Rafael. 
She sat back down at the table in front of her laptop as he stood nearby, taking cartons of food from the bag he’d placed there.  They smelled delicious.  
“Don’t work through dinner.  That’s a terrible habit.  Come sit on the couch and talk to me.” 
“I don’t want to talk about ‘Twenty-Five Acts.’” 
“You don’t even want to know how I got Cain convicted?”
“I know how you got Cain convicted.  And bragging, while perhaps a little bit deserved in that case, is rude.”
“You already think I’m rude.”
“I know you’re rude.  So why should I come over there and talk to you?” 
“Because you’re a doctor, and you should know that polite conversation is better for the digestion than reading about depraved criminals.  And before you say anything: yes, I am capable of polite conversation.” 
“This I gotta see.”
Frankie chose a carton and a fork and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Rafael, leaving her shoes on the floor and tucking her legs under her, which meant she had to pull her fitted skirt a little up her thighs.  Rafael stifled a groan.  Rather than say what he was thinking about her legs, he asked, “Fork?  Really?” 
“Sue me.  I’m from Texas.” 
“That’s no excuse not to know how to use chopsticks.”  
“Mmm-hmmm.  ‘I know how to make polite conversation’ he says.  I knew you couldn’t do it.�� 
Forget hot.  He was gorgeous when he laughed.  “OK, that one I deserved.  Sorry.”
“Maybe we could just eat in blessed silence.”
“No.  I want to hear about growing up in Texas.  Please keep it to culture.  I don’t want to hear about any mansions or butlers.  I’m eating.” 
Rafael was very fortunate not to be eating at the moment she threw her head back and laughed.  The way her long, graceful neck arched, the flash of white teeth, the music of her laughter, or any one of those could have caused him to choke.  As a doctor, she probably knew the Heimlich Maneuver, and he did want her to put her arms around him, but still. 
“Is that what you think?  Oh, Barba, you clearly did not do a very good job on your research.  I did not grow up in a mansion.  I have, in fact, met real butlers, but it was at other people’s houses, and they freak me out.  I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say to them, and I refuse to pretend they’re not there.”
Rafael was stunned, and not only because the flush of amusement that animated her face made him want to laugh with her almost as much as he wanted to kiss her.  He had clearly missed something.
“You’re BioRed Pharmaceuticals.  You have more money than God.”
“BioRed Pharmaceuticals is a corporation, and my father has more money than God.  You did take Corporations at Harvard, right?  Trusts and Estates?  You understand how property works?”
“Let’s stick to your story.  You’ve got me interested now.  So, no mansions or butlers?”
“None.  I grew up on a working ranch, where my family still lives.  I ride workhorses and I’m pretty good at roping steer, which is a skill I’ve considered using on you a time or two, and I’m holding in reserve, just in case.  Never played polo, never even seen polo.  All my ridin’ and ropin’ was done in the course of long, hard workdays, because that’s how we were raised.  I will admit that my father paid my way through school, so I don’t have any student loans.  But I’ve had to earn my own money since the day I started getting an allowance.”
“But… your clothes.”
“I like clothes.  I spend too much on them.  What’s your excuse?”
“Same.  But I don’t have a billionaire father.” 
“I guarantee you I get less money from my father than you do from yours.”
“My father is dead.” 
“OK, then I get exactly as much money from mine as you do from yours.  Which is to say, none.  He believes in working for a living.” 
“And who’s ‘we’?  You said ‘that’s not how we were raised.’” 
“I’m one of six kids.” 
“Really?  Oldest, no doubt.” 
“Wrong again.  I have three older brothers and two younger ones.” 
“Wait… you have five brothers?  I should probably have found that out before I started talking to you the way I do.  And they’re from Texas… can they shoot?”
“Can they shoot?  You have heard of Texas, right?  You know what happens on a ranch?”
“Can you shoot?”
“I can shoot the eye out of an iguana at a hundred paces.”
“Shit.”  
“Does this mean you’re going to be nicer to me from now on?”
“Of course not.  But it does mean I’m going to ask Liv for a bulletproof vest.” 
“Don’t bother.”
“Is that a threat, Annie Oakley?”
“No, it means I don’t have a gun.  I hate ‘em.  Although, with Alan around again, maybe I oughtta re-think that.”
“You could always lasso him.”
“Shootin’s more fun.  At least, in Alan’s case.”
“Also more illegal.”
“Spoilsport.  But I don’t want to talk about Alan.  Tell me about you.  Where’d you grow up?”
“Right here.  The Bronx. With my eight siblings.”
“You have no siblings.”
“I have eight.”
“No.  There are practically entire textbooks about how your personality says you’re an only child. Beloved and the pride of your family, but an only child.”
“You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Everyone who has ever met me knows that.  The real question is, why are you avoiding telling me about your childhood?”
“I’m not avoiding it.”
“You’re so avoiding it.”
“No, I’m – Ok, fine.  I was small and nerdy and I sucked at sports.  I had two best friends who did all the same things I did and I was always the one who got caught.  Which was fine, because I could always talk my way out of trouble.”
Frankie was smiling at him while she listened.  He was so damn cute.  If anyone had told her before this moment that she would have thought that, she’d have laughed or maybe assessed their mental competence.  But it was true.  
“I loved my abuelita.  She was my favorite person in the world.  No matter what happened in my life, she thought I was the smartest, and the best, and that I could do anything.  She used to call me el juez.[6]  Even before I got into law school.”
“I think I’m in love with your abuelita.”
“Me, too.  I miss her. We lost her last year.”
“I’m sorry.“
Half an hour of sweet stories about Rafael’s childhood later, Barba’s desk phone rang.  They both turned to look at it.  “You know what this is going to be,” he said.
She slid her shoes back on and followed him to the desk, standing on the other side while he listened to Dean Porter.  Rafael’s side of the conversation was almost nothing except an occasional “uh-huh.”
Frankie was almost frantic by the time he hung up.  “Well?”  
Rafael looked her in the eye as he told her that they had gotten nothing out of Canady, and hadn’t had any reason to arrest him.
“So he’s just out there somewhere.”
“I’m sorry.  Porter says you shouldn’t go home.  Canady was pretty pissed when he left.”
“Fuck that.  He is not driving me out of my home.  Not again.”
Frankie stomped over to the table and rummaged in her purse for her phone, plucking it out and beginning to touch the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for an all-night gun store.”
Rafael took the phone from her.  “I can think of at least five reasons that’s not a good idea, but the only one you’re going to listen to is that there’s a three-day waiting period. You might as well relax and get used to the idea that you’re not going home.”
She grabbed the phone roughly from his hand and threw it back into her purse, then slammed her laptop closed and began shoving things into her carryall.  “That is so easy for you to say.  You’re safe. You can go home.  You don’t have some deranged asshole following you around the country trying to kill you.  Well, fuck him.  If he wants to kill me so bad, let him try.  So maybe I can’t get a gun tonight, but I got plenty of knives in my kitchen and I might as well be comfortable while I wait.”
“Francisca, stop it.  You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Damn straight I’m not!  I’m pissed off!”  She stormed toward the door, with him right behind her.  “I’ll show myself out.”
“You can’t-”
She turned to him.  “I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of opening a door.”
“And similarly capable of making a very bad, very dangerous decision in a fit of temper.  Which I am not going to allow you to do.”
He took the last few steps toward her and they both reached for the doorknob.  Standing chest to chest, her hand on the doorknob and his hand on hers, they faced one another, both angry.
“You’re not walking out of here alone.  And you’re not going home.”
“You really think you can stop me?”
“You really gonna make me?”
Their faces got closer with each word.  “You are so…”
“Yes?”  He asked, putting his arm around her and leaning so that his lips were almost touching hers.
“Annoying and frustrating,” she closed the distance. “And arrogant, and…”  Their lips met in a molten kiss.
“Well, you’re conceited and short-tempered and you drive me up a wall,” he gasped, pushing her against the door with his body.  Taking his hand from the doorknob, he encircled her with both arms as he captured her mouth with his.
“Do you ever fucking shut up?”  She panted into the kiss.
“Not when I have something to say.”
“Why am I not surprised?”  She asked, burying her hands in his hair the way she’d been wanting to for days as she responded to his probing tongue.
“You’re not exactly silent yourself,” he muttered.
She gave herself completely over to the sensations he was creating in her.  He used his mouth on hers in ways that had her beginning to moan after only a few minutes, as she moved her body to fit it more closely to his.
“Nothing to say?”  He gasped, moving to kiss down her neck.
“I have plenty to say.”  She whispered between breaths.  “I’m prioritizing.”
“You’re coming home with me.”
“Damn right I am, but not because you said so.  Because I want to.”
“Whatever gets you there,” he growled.
 Rafael and Frankie scandalized the cab driver who took them from Rafael’s office to his apartment.  Rafael had pulled the silky shell she wore out of her waistband and unhooked her bra by the time they reached his apartment building, hands all over her breasts as he ravished her mouth.  He had no idea how much the fare was, or how much cash he tossed into the front seat as he followed Frankie out of the cab.  
By the time the elevator reached his floor, Frankie had Rafael’s tie off and his shirt undone, and a fairly significant purple mark on the front of her neck.  As soon as they closed his door behind them, she’d removed his jacket, pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and practically torn off his shirt.  She threw them to the floor and reached to pull his undershirt up, but he pushed her jacket from her shoulders, causing her to have to stop her progress in undressing him to allow him to remove it.  She reached for him again, but he moved her hands out of the way.
“You’re so fucking pushy,” she complained as they broke their nearly continual kisses so that he could pull her shell up and over her head.  She paid no attention to what he did with it, and neither did she, because their lips were again enmeshed and he flicked her bra off and began working on her skirt.  She remembered to be grateful she’d worn nice lingerie today.  
“And you’re way too fucking spoiled,” he muttered, allowing her to take off his undershirt before slipping her skirt down her hips to fall onto the floor.  She pulled at the fly of his trousers as he again began to fondle her breasts.  It took her little time to get his pants unfastened and run her palm down his abdomen, under the waistband of his boxers, and take hold of his stiff member.  He groaned as she’d hoped he would.
With very little effort, he pulled his trousers and boxers down and stepped out of them.  She was too engrossed in his penis to pay attention to how he got his shoes and socks off, but noticed when he took one of her hands and led her toward what she assumed was his bedroom.  She stepped out of her shoes on the way.  They didn’t bother with lights; there was plenty of light coming in through the window from the city beyond.  When they reached the bed, he turned and took her into his arms again, falling with her onto the mattress.  Somehow they wriggled and rolled their way to lying side by side, lips and hungry mouths never parting.  
When he ran a hand up her thigh to the moist crotch of her panties, she let out a moan that could have made him come right then, but he kept a hold on his desire long enough to quickly pull the skimpy boy shorts off her body.  
“Shit,” he gasped.  “We need to talk about… consent, and protection…”  He was breathing almost too hard to speak.
“I’m clean and I’m on the pill and if you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds, that’s when we’re gonna have a problem,” she growled.
“Impolite, and disrespectful,” he murmured, moving into position and gently nudging her thighs apart.  “Impatient, and… oh, fuck!”
He kissed her, hard and messy and frenzied, as he began to thrust into her.  
“Yeah, well, you’re… uhn…  uncivil and surly… oh… and bossy…”
“Tell me how to make you come,” he grunted.
“See?  Bossy… oh, shit…  fuck, Barba…  I’m… Just like that!  Just… like…”  
Frankie could not remember the last time she had come just from being fucked. Well, at that moment, she couldn’t remember her own name.  But she somehow found a small part of her brain with which to be astounded at how good Barba felt inside her and the ease with which he had brought her to this shouting, incoherent climax.
He followed just as she began to come down.  Did he actually call her fresa in the midst of his orgasm? Oh, this man was absolutely impossible. Entirely, completely impossible.    
[1] Are you all right?
[2] Alan is here.  Fourth row.  My right.
[3] OK.  Listen, can you hang on for a little while?  He can’t do anything while you’re on the stand.
[4] I don’t know.
[5] See definition in Chapter 2
[6] The judge
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supposed2bfunny · 5 years
Text
2doc Week Day 5- Vacation
Rating: T+
Warnings: Mentions of sex and drugs/drug addiction 
“Can I be honest?” Stu asked, licking spicy red sauce off his fingers as he passed what remained of his bomba to Murdoc.
“Uh-oh,” the bassist looked at him wearily as they wandered through Parc Güell. “Here it comes.”
“Relax. I was just going to say, I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought Barcelona would be your first choice.”
Murdoc chewed the last bites of the potato croquette and tossed the empty container in a nearby trashcan. “Well, it was this time around. You chose Jamaica for our anniversary, I chose Spain for the anniversary of, erm, ‘D-Day.’” He tapped a finger against the singer’s temple playfully, looking into his black eyes, the result of an act of stupidity that had happened over two decades ago that they had celebrated every since.
“It was a good choice,” the singer confessed. “The castle was really cool, and I didn’t really understand most of that Dalí museum, but it was colorful. The food’s been great and the beaches in Spain are always wonderful.”
“And look at that view,” Murdoc exclaimed, sitting down on the mosaic-covered bench to point at a particularly stunning vista of the city. “You can’t beat that!”
“Yeah, that’s pretty, for sure.”
“Get in the shot, Stu, let’s get another picture for Twitter!”
“Murdoc, you’ve posted like two hundred pictures of me today alone; your followers are going to hate you!”
“Half of ‘em already do, bluebird,” he quipped with a smirk, merrily snapping away regardless of his boyfriend’s protests.
“Okay, fine, but I want a picture of the two of us,” he said after a few poses. He approached the man on the bench, reaching for his phone. “Can you figure out how to flip the camera or do you need me to—”
“I know how to get it to Selfie Mode, mate, I’m not that old!”
“Did you just call the front-facing camera ‘Selfie Mode?’”
Murdoc glared, but only for a moment, because then Stu was guiding his hand so that the angle was perfect: a shot of the two of them, cheek-to-cheek and giddy, and a view of the city behind them. They snapped one picture, two. Murdoc turned, kissed Stu’s cheek (the picture would become his home screen approximately two minutes later), then licked his cheek, earning a squeal.
“Don’t be gross when we’re in a public park!”
“Honestly, Stu, I’ve never heard such a boring string of words come out of your mouth,” he teased.
“You avoided my question,” the singer complained as they continued their walk.
“Which was?”
“Why Spain? I love it. I’m not complaining. I’ll definitely want to do this again. But why?”
Murdoc looked around, watching a small guided tour weave its way through the park, watching vacationing families with matching shirts, watching young couples, presumably on honeymoons. It was strange to observe all these people; somehow when he took trips alone with Stu, it often felt like the two of them had the world together in spite of crowds.
“We came here to promote Demon Days,” he finally said.
“Yeah. I remember that. We traveled all over Europe to promote that,” he replied.
“But it was here, in Barcelona that we started hooking up.”
Stuart slowed down then, watching the bassist carefully and struggling to remember. Those early days were a blur for him. His attempts to balance medications to keep the migraines at bay during their debut album had turned into a dangerous addiction by the second album, and whole weeks were often gone from his memory, sounding fresh when one of his bandmates would bring up a party or an interview that he couldn’t recall being present for.
“I think I remember that…we were in the hotel by the water, right? So we stayed here more than a day...”
“We were scheduled to be here four days, three nights,” Murdoc helped him out, pausing to purchase some bottled water from a cart as the heat of the day wore on. “You and I stayed an extra two days.”
Stu furrowed his brow. “Why?”
Murdoc took a sip of water, passed the bottle to the younger man. “Because you and I spent almost the entirety of the trip in my hotel room, bluebird.”
Just like that, an image of the hotel’s interior jogged his memory, and he could remember kissing Murdoc feverishly in the elevator, breaking apart when they stopped on a floor to pick up a large family before finally making it to their own floor. He could remember the master bathroom in Murdoc’s hotel suite, and taking a shower with the bassist in there. He could remember ordering room service when they were famished from their activities, and he distinctly remembered them sharing a plate of cheeses, olives, and fruit, feeding each other and giggling and kissing like lovesick teenagers.
“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Yeah! Now I remember! That trip was amazing! We stayed an extra two days to fuck more, not to see the sights. We went the to the beach like, once that whole time we were here.”
“Yeah,” Murdoc agreed, giving him a strange look. “I think about that trip a lot.”
“Why? Why Barcelona specifically?”
Murdoc stopped at the top of a staircase to take a few pictures of one of the dozens of Gaudí sculptures (and also to catch his breath, Stu assumed, given the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders). “Because on that trip, that’s when I realized that you were it.”
The singer stepped a little closer, letting his arm bump the older man’s. It was making his head spin to think about how close they had been, yet how emotionally distant they still were all those years ago. “Speak up, Muds,” he implored. “I want to understand.”
With a sigh, the bassist turned to look at him, clearly a little embarrassed. “Watching you sleep in the mornings when the sun rose, spending that much time with you. Mate, I knew it then. That I was never going to feel as strongly about anyone else in the world as I did about you. I knew you were the only one I would ever love.”
Stu felt his mouth go dry despite the water bottle he had been guzzling. “Oh…”
“I know,” he added quickly, “I didn’t say anything to you, so obviously nothing came of it. Not right then, anyway. I was too scared to put myself in a position like that. Especially back then! My old man was still alive, I wasn’t on meds so the hallucinations were still fucking commonplace, and also…” he let his arms drop to his sides as he looked out at the spires and palm trees wistfully.
“Go on, lovely thing.”
“I assumed that you felt it too,” he said, sounding so sad that the singer hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him close despite the hot sun. “I thought you could feel what I was feeling, so when we left Spain and continued traveling through Europe and you went back to shagging birds and acting like nothing had happened…”
“It’s all coming back to me,” he admitted. “You were insufferable after that trip. Oh god, the next few weeks, you gave me and everyone around you absolute hell. I didn’t realize you were acting out because you were frustrated with me. Muds, if you’d just told me how you felt—”
“It doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “It’s all in the past. I got a taste of what it was like to hold you for a night without all the commitment crap. Anyway, we couldn’t stay apart for long, could we?”
“We hooked up again as soon as we were back at Kong,” the singer agreed with a smile. “And all through the music video shoots. We couldn’t keep away from one another.”
“It was only a matter of time before you returned my feelings,” Murdoc joked.
“Maybe in time, you’ll want to be mine.”
“That’s it.” He agreed quietly.
A soft wind blew, and Stu brushed his bangs out of his face, brow furrowed in thought. “I never realized,” he confessed. “I thought you hated me back then, Muds.”
“I never hated you, you daft twat. Only resented you a tad. The sun might be hot in the middle of the day, burns and makes us sweat and complain, but we need it so we can snap shots like this for Instagram,” he broke away to take a picture of some flowers, leaving Stu to contemplate the metaphor that he had very intentionally cut short.
“Well, I’m sorry your first trip to Barcelona didn’t work out the way you wanted,” he said. He walked up behind the bassist, so when Murdoc turned around, he was right there, tall enough to block out the sun, dark eyes fixed on the older man. “But I hope this trip makes up for it.”
He had intended to kiss his boyfriend then, but it felt too aggressive given the history that they shared in the city, too much like something that he would have done when he was younger and wilder and always carrying switchblades around for no good reason. Instead, he took Murdoc’s hand and kissed it. They were in a country filled with castles; let him act like a prince for once in his life.
It did the trick, because Murdoc’s eyebrows shot up behind his fringe and he sputtered uselessly, too flustered for words for a shocking five, ten, fifteen seconds.
“You incorrigible sap,” he finally managed. Quite mild as far as Murdoc Insults went.
“That’s me,” he replied with a grin, and Murdoc was already lacing their fingers together, guiding them out of the park and to their next destination in the city. “Thank you for telling me all that. Makes me all the more eager to savor every second of time with you now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, “Don’t be too cheesy or I’ll toss you into one of the fountains.”
Stu laughed. “Fine. Where are you taking me next?”
“First, lets get some ice cold cervezas. Then, I’m thinking a siesta before we hit the beach.”
“Sounds perfect. Y’know, you’re actually quite good at planning these tips, Muds.”
“Of course I am,” Murdoc replied, swinging their hands between them as they walked, uncharacteristically playful. “I’ve been planning how I would woo you since the first time we stepped foot in this city, mi corazón!”
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thesygerproject · 4 years
Text
Excerpt: Ch. 1
“Agent Miller, I have to say I was very surprised to find out that you would be joining us,” Jackson said. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“Glad to be here,” Nathan said politely.
Dominic continued to make polite small talk with Jackson. Never having been one for pleasantries, Nathan tuned them out and scanned the room, noting who was working in the facility and who was a trainee. Which of the trainees were just killing time until the talk, and which ones were wrapped up in their work. Two trainees were already sitting in the front row, both leaning over the same notebook propped up between them, with a third sitting just behind them, leaned forward to speak quietly with them. The only other person in the front row was a young brunette woman sitting at the end, legs stretched out and arms crossed, head leaned back and eyes closed. She probably didn't even know there was anything going on in this room today. A couple other trainees were scattered throughout the chairs, some laughing together and others focused intently on the two raised chairs in the front, as though staring at them would make the session begin sooner.
"But we can get one if you want," Jackson said.
“Sorry?" Nathan’s attention snapped back to the agent.
Jackson turned his head to give Nathan a strange look while Dominic laughed. "I said we wanted to keep it casual, so we just put a couple of chairs on the stage. We decided against pulling out a podium, but we can get one for you if you want.”
“No, it’s fine,” Dominic said, resting a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Ignore him. He’s not good at human interaction.”
Nathan roughly shook Dominic’s hand off and shot him a half-hearted glare. “So when are we getting started?” Nathan asked, turning back to Jackson.
Jackson looked between them, apparently amused at the interaction, before answering. “In about ten minutes, the rest of the group should be in here. Whenever most of the kids get in here I'll go up and introduce you. The recruits were pretty excited when we told them that you’d both be joining us.”
Nathan thought he was just being polite, but it only took about seven more minutes for the room to fill. A few trainees were even left standing along the back wall or sitting in the aisles on either side.
"Didn't expect this much of a turn out," Nathan muttered under his breath.
Jackson laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, which Nathan shrugged off habitually. “Are you kidding? You two had a damn near perfect record in violent crimes. You’re practically celebrities around here.” With that, Jackson walked up to the stage and picked up the microphone that was sitting on one of the chairs. “I'm glad you all could make it," he said, pausing as if he expected some kind of response that he didn’t get. "You all hear me talk enough, so I'll skip the speech and get right to it. Our guest speakers today worked together in the violent crimes division of the FBI for nearly two decades, mostly chasing down serial killers and hired guns. Since then one of them has retired, and the other has transferred to the white collar division. But both of them have generously agreed to come out today and answer any of your questions about their experiences in the field and past cases. So now, here are my good friends and colleagues, Senior Special Agents Dominic Greerson and Nathan Miller.”
Nathan forced a smile as he followed Dominic onto the stage and dropped into the chair beside the older man, doing his best to ignore the applause from the gathered group.
“How are you all doing today?” Dominic asked into the microphone. He got several excited though indistinguishable responses. “Alright, well let’s just jump right into it. Who has a question? Oh, that’s more than I was expecting.”
About two dozen hands immediately went into the air. One of them belonged to one of the two trainees that Nathan had seen sitting in the front row. He was surprised to see that another belonged to the young woman sitting on the end, whom Nathan had thought to be asleep and unaware of the event.
"Alright, let's start in the back," Dominic said, pointing over the heads of most of the group. "You there in the corner.”
The man stood and accepted the microphone that was extended to him by one the staff walking along the aisles. ”How did you both start working with the FBI?" He finally asked.
Dominic looked to Nathan for a second, eyebrows raised in a silent question. In answer, Nathan took the microphone from him to answer first. “Well, since I was a kid I wanted to be in law enforcement,” he said. “My father was a police officer in Baton Rouge. So I decided to become a police officer. I worked my way up to homicide detective, and after that,” he hesitated a moment, ignoring the feel of Dominic’s eyes burning into the side of his head, but just shrugged and finished the story as quickly and cleanly as he could. “I guess the FBI was just the next logical step for me. Dom?” He added, handing the microphone back to his former partner. The questions went on that way for about an hour, mostly asking about each of their respective backgrounds in the FBI, and a few questions about specific cases they had worked. Several questions were asked about the Phantom Fires, which Nathan answered as carefully as he could.
"What was it like the first time you had to tell a victim's family that they were dead?" Asked a young trainee in the front row. She looked barely old enough to buy alcohol, but with the kind of determination in her eyes and voice that Nathan’d had when he was just starting out in the Bureau.
Nathan still remembered that moment perfectly. He held his hand out for the microphone. Dominic handed it over and leaned back in his chair. “When I was a detective, usually my partner at the time or another police officer made the call. The first time I had to tell a woman that her husband was dead, it was my first case with the Bureau,” Nathan said. He gave a wry smile and gestured to Dominic. “This guy said I had to be the one to tell her. Of course, I didn't want to do it; not on my first case.”
“It builds character,” Dominic said loud enough to be heard even without the microphone.
"That's a lie,” Nathan said without missing a beat or even glancing at his former partner. A few people laughed with him.
"Do you ever get used to it?" The girl asked.
"No," Nathan said. He glanced around at the subdued crowd before looking back at her, finally raising the microphone again to speak into the silent room. “You'll learn what to say, and how long to keep your mouth shut before you say it. But you will never get used to it. And you shouldn’t.”
Nathan paused in the silence and glanced at Dominic. The older man just gave him a smile and shrugged one shoulder; a silent confirmation. Nathan turned back to the girl. “You know what Agent Greerson said to me when I asked him that same question? He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘The day when that becomes easy, the day when you can look into a woman's eyes, tell her that she's a widow, watch her break down in tears, and not feel a thing, you hand in your badge and walk away.’” Nathan leaned back in his chair and looked out at the rest of the room.
Dominic’s voice echoed through the room even without the microphone, carrying over the silence. “When you lose what makes you human, you lose what makes you a good agent,” he said. Nathan remembered the hardened look in Dominic’s eyes when he’d said those same words to him decades ago. He could swear he felt that same hardened gaze boring into the side of his head, but didn’t look over to Cath the man’s eyes. The silence lingered for a long moment before Dominic spoke again. “I think we have time for just one more question.”
A couple hands raised in the air, one belonging to the woman down at the end of the front row, the one that had appeared to be asleep in her chair before the talk.
“Front row on the end there,” Nathan said, gesturing to her. He ignored the look he got from Greerson, who had been taking the initiative the entire session of leading the conversation and choosing the questions. The woman had been intently listening to every question asked and every answer given. She’d raised her hand at every point that Greerson was selecting someone to ask a question. She also just had a look in her eyes that made Nathan feel slightly off balance, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was the confidence clear in her gaze that never left the stage, or how everyone else was either typing away on laptops or scribbling in a notebook, while this woman just sat unmoving, attention never wavering, and yet Nathan had no doubt that she could recite back every question and answer given during the last hour verbatim.
The woman stood up and looked from Dominic to Nathan with all the confidence of someone who knew what she was talking about, and didn't give a damn who disagreed with her. She didn’t wait to be brought a microphone before she spoke, but still her voice carried.
"Where's Jessica Langer?" The woman asked.
Nathan's confident demeanor didn’t falter—he was too practiced for that—but he instinctively tensed at the question. He could feel tension rolling off of Dominic in waves, but didn’t dare turn to look at him. The small gesture would give away too much information. It would let this would-be agent know that she was right; that she knew something that only a handful of people knew. That only a handful of people should ever know.
Nathan was thankfully saved the trouble of answering when the silence was broken by someone laughing from the back row.
"Dead," someone called out. "Killed by the Phantoms."
"Maybe you should know what you're talking about before you open your mouth," another person yelled. More laughs broke out through the room, but still the brunette never broke eye contact with Nathan.
"Your friend's right," Dominic finally said. His laugh only sounded slightly forced, and Nathan wondered if the woman could tell. It took him all of half a second to decide that she could. ”Jessica Langer died in a Phantom Fire fifteen years ago. You should read your case files more carefully."
The young woman shifted her gaze to Dominic, the side of her mouth quirking up just slightly, barely noticeable. She knew that Dominic was lying. Nathan didn't know how in the hell she knew that Jessica Langer was alive, but somehow she knew it. Still, the woman didn't call his bluff right there. She only nodded and kept that confident smirk on her face. "Sorry," she said, sitting back down. Her gaze met Nathan’s again for a moment. ”My mistake."
As soon as she sat back down, Jackson jumped onto the stage. Dominic stood and handed the microphone back to him. "That's all the time we have for questions," Jackson said. "Thank you, Agents Greerson and Miller, for joining us today."
His statement was followed by a warm applause from the group as Nathan followed Dominic from the stage. He looked around for the young woman, but could already see her retreating out the double doors, already engulfed in a sea of students leaving the auditorium.
"Hey, Jackson," he heard Dominic saying in a forced casual tone. "Who was that?”
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thinkyoureholy · 5 years
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No Rest For The Wicked [4]
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Pairing : Kim Minseok / [FEM] Reader
Genre : Angst, a bit Gory, Violence, Some Fluff, Future Smut, Zombie Apocalypse! AU
Words : 2.7k
Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7.
-Y/N's P.O.V; 4 Months Later-
I stayed low, creeping through the trees and kept my footsteps light as I tried going around the biters gathered on the road. They looked to be feeding, on what or who I couldn't tell and I didn't have the luxury of sticking around to find out. I had just gone through ten of them and taking on another half a dozen was beyond me. I had no energy left and with how sluggish I was from exhaustion they were going to be able to take me down in no time. I had no need to kill them as they didn’t pose a direct threat to me at the moment so I let them be. I looked out further into the woods, seeing two stragglers about a mile out. My choices were either to stay within the woods or take the road to try and find some type of shelter. I pulled out the map I had found in an abandoned duffel bag a few months ago, luckily for me I knew the area I was in when I found the map so I was able to follow it pretty easily. I looked down at the worn piece of paper and saw that there was a gas station about five miles from where I was. Five miles...I don’t know if I’ll even be able to make it but it was worth a shot. Taking a deep breath I broke through the treeline, getting onto the road and going towards the gas station that I hoped hadn’t been picked clean.
I was out of breath, my legs feeling like jelly, my feet screaming in protest with every step I took. My body felt like it was about to give out any second, it was begging me to give it some rest. I don’t even remember the last time I slept for a couple minutes at a time, always having to be on high alert now that it was just me. At the thought of what had happened I could feel my heart constricting in my chest, the tears coming to my eyes at the memory. I shook my head, ridding myself of such thoughts. I couldn’t breakdown, not now. Just as I felt like I was about to pass out I saw the gas station just down the road.
At the sight of it I let myself smile, my walk turning into a slow jog as I made my way over as quickly as I could. The windows and glass doors of the gas station were perfectly intact, making me think this place has yet to be touch. When everything hit the owners of this place must’ve not even bothered coming here. I made my way around the building, wanting to keep the glass intact as it to helped as a barrier against any biters that came across the place. I tried opening the door, hoping that it’d be unlocked and just my luck..it was. I slowly opened the door, keeping my shoulder against it I poked my head around the door. Everything seemed in order, nothing turned over or rummaged through. I held my breath and listened for any noise, entering the place when I heard nothing for several seconds. I closed the door behind me, locking it behind me and dragging a heavy wooden box in front of it. I walked through the isles just in case one had slipped around the gas station in silence but found nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, letting the hand I held my only hunting knife in hang at my side, grabbing a bottle of water from off the shelves. I downed it quickly, not having had any water since the day before yesterday. I quickly moved over to another, and then another. I had down four water bottle before feeling my thirst quenched. I looked around at the snacks lining the shelves but left them all there, thinking I could afford some sleep before digging into the food. I made my way over to the counter, wanting to stay hidden. As I sunk down to the floor I noticed something behind the counter that almost brought tears to my eyes. There sat a shotgun and handgun, untouched with extra ammo beside them. I grabbed them quickly, looking inside the shotgun to see it fully loaded with six shells and pulled out the magazine of the pistol, the magazine full. After all those months I was finally getting a brake, I didn’t have to fight off biters at such a close range anymore, I could keep my distance and it’d be less risky. With that thought in mind I set the guns back in their place, letting my exhaustion take over.
I was jolted awake at the sound of glass breaking, immediately crawling over to have my back against the counter. I held my breath as I listened to their footsteps, hearing the broken glass under their shoes. I heard whispers telling me that these were people not biters but all the same I kept hidden. I could hear one making their way over to where I was. I reached behind me, grabbing the pistol and switching off the safety. I waited for them to get closer, hearing them set something onto the counter as I assumed they leaned over it to see behind it. As they did so I sprung up, pointing my gun directly as his face. I could see his eyes widen at the sight of the barrel of a gun staring right back at him. He immediately put his hands up, the other three turning to the two of us, their weapons held out in front of them. I looked at each and every one of them, furrowing my brows together as I thought that there was something familiar about them.
“Hey...hey we-we don't want any trouble. Why don't we just put our weapons down, huh?” The one holding a knife said.
At the sound of his voice the hold I had on the pistol tightened. Now I knew why they looked familiar. These were the assholes that robbed us of everything we had and only left us with two knives. If it wasn't for them we wouldn't have been caught in the horde of biters. I wouldn’t have lost him and he’d still be here with me. Setting my jaw I aimed my gun at the two with firearms of their own, letting off two shots, the bullets hitting their target. Before the one in front of me could react I grabbed the machete I now recognized as mine and swung it at him, decapitating him. I let the machete hang at my side, the blood on it dripping to the floor as I now pointed my gun at the man that had spoken before. I remembered him as being the man that had held a gun to my head and pinned me to the floor. He raised his hands up, his eyes darting to the two discarded guns on the floor. I shook my head at him, a sigh leaving my lips when he ran to grab them. Without a second thought I shot at his leg, watching him crumble to the floor.
“I’m guessing you don’t remember me.” I said, walking around the counter, keeping my gun pointed at his head.
He said nothing as he clutched his leg, trying to stop the bleeding. I stepped over the bodies of the dead men, hearing the moan of a couple biters outside. I paid them no mind as I crouched down in front of him, taking his knife.
“I’m sure you’ve stolen from others after you stole from us.”
“I should’ve killed you and your friend when I had the chance.” He spat out, gritting his teeth at the pain traveling up his leg.
I smirked at his words, “Oh so you do remember me. I lost him because of you and now you’re going to pay for it but I won’t kill you like I killed your friends...I’ll let the biters take care of you.”
With that I got up, picking up the guns the others had dropped, stripping the headless one of the backpack he had on him. I heard the biters come in, the glass breaking under their feet. I slashed at the one closest to me, the rotten blood splattering onto the floor. I stuffed the backpack with the extra ammo and guns, putting the pistol I just used in the waistband of my jeans, carrying the machete and shotgun in my one hand while I picked up my duffel bag with the other. I quickly shoved bottles of water into it and any food with in reach, slinging the bag over my shoulders as I ignored the screams of the man being eaten. I walked around him and the biters feeding off of him, the biters paying me no mind as they feasted.
I noticed a car and a motorcycle parked outside, the key in both of the ignitions. I debated over which one I should take, deciding on the bike quickly as a couple more biters were making their way over as they were drawn by the noise. The bike would help me navigate through hordes of biters better than a car would.
-
-Minseok’s P.O.V-
I pushed Dawon down by her head, forcing her to crouch down. I told them not to let her come, she was still a child, granted she’d argue with me every time I’d tell her...being the thirteen year old that she was she hated being referred to as a child. Our group had come across an abandoned building, it looked like it was a gas station but we couldn’t really tell since we were looking at it from behind and through the trees. I looked over my shoulder, signalling for Chanwoo to move forward, Dohyun following close behind him. They kept low, their guns brought up as they stayed alert of their surroundings. I then signalled for the other two, Ara and Yeonhee to follow.
“Stay close and don’t wander off.” I whispered over to Dawon as we took the rear.
I heard a scoff leave her lips, deciding to simply ignore it as my eyes looked over the terrain. Dohyun opened the door of the building, Chanwoo going in, Ara and Yeonhee following. Dohyun held the door open for Dawon and I, closing it behind him once inside. I heard Chanwoo yell out that it was all clear, all of us lowering our guns at the words.
“Only get what we need. Nothing more, nothing less.” I told them, specifically directing my words to our youngest.
I slung my rifle over my shoulder, taking my backpack off and opening it up. It didn’t look like there was much left in the store, someone must’ve raided it before we even knew it was here. I sighed heavily, heading over to the shelves, closest to the counter. I stopped as I noticed the body on the floor, a headless body I should say. I saw the man’s head a few feet away from the body, stepping over it as I shoved what was on left the shelves in the pack. I frowned as my mind started to wander, picking up that habit whenever I was left only to my thoughts in silence. I started thinking of that night all those months ago. I didn’t want to believe that she was dead, thinking she must’ve had to leave the riverbed because it was too dangerous to be out in the open. That’s the kind of hope I held onto, hoping I’d find her, alive.
My thoughts were cut off as I heard a scream ring out through the store. I dropped my pack at the sound, knowing that it was Dawon. Before I even knew what was going on I heard the others firing their guns. I ran over to where I heard her scream come from, seeing a biter take a good chunk out of Ara’s arm, Ara crying out. Dozens of them started pouring in through the back door. I drew my weapon, firing at them and killing as many as I could but there didn’t seem like there was ever going to be an end to them.
“Minseok the front!” I heard Yeonhee yell over to me.
I turned to see more pouring in through the front, my eyes searching for Dawon. I saw her cornered by three biters, trying to kill them but her hands shook too much to get a clean shot. I raised my gun and shot them down, running over to her before picking her up and running over to the other three. I set her down and told the others to form a line, protecting Dawon.
-
-Y/N’s P.O.V-
I cursed when the gas station came into view, seeing it crawling with biters. I was running low on gas but I guess I’d have to look for it somewhere else. Just as I was about to turn around I heard screams followed by gunshots. My instincts told me to just leave but I froze at hearing the scream again.
“Dammit.” I sighed heavily before turning the bike back and driving down to the gas station.
I didn’t bother turning the bike off as I hopped off, letting it fall onto its side. I raised my shotgun, shooting the two closest to me before pulling out my machete. I hacked at each and everyone of them, hearing the gunfire from inside the store continue. I lost count of how many I took down with my machete, using my shotgun on the ones a little further away. Within minutes the horde was starting to clear and I was able to get a glimpse of the people inside. It was one woman, a teenage girl, and three men. One had his back to me so I wasn’t able to make out his face. This made me think that some had made their way in through the back.
I cursed when my shotgun was empty, not having the time to reload it so I dropped it to the floor, pulling out my pistol. I shot at the ten around me, watching each of them fall as one of my bullets lodged into each of their heads. There were about five still standing , the others inside having taken care of most of them. I lowered my gun, hacking at the ones that remained, not even phased by the blood that splattered onto my face and arms. I watched the last one fall to the ground, panting heavily. I stumbled back a bit, looking over to the group inside. One of the men gave me a grateful nod, one I returned as I got a proper look at all their faces. My heart stopped at seeing his face, my gun and machete falling to the floor.
I lost my footing as I took in his features, noticing how his hair was longer, covering his ears now. Tears welled up in my eyes at seeing him, noticing how his face had paled. My legs felt weak for a second before they finally gave out as I fell to my knees. Minseok took a step towards me, his mouth opening to say something but no words came out so instead he ran over to me. The tears were streaming down my face by the time he reached me, kneeling down in front of me before wrapping his arms around me tightly. I hugged him just as tight, feeling his body shake in my arms as he let out a sob of his own. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in closer. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, holding him just as tightly.
“I thought I had lost you.” I said through my tears, clutching onto him.
I felt his chest rumble as he let out a chuckle through his tears, trying to keep them at bay. I felt his body shake once more as he let out a choked sob, pulling back from our embrace to cup my face in his hands.
“I’m right here, love, I’m right here.”
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lokiarsene · 5 years
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like yesterday, here's a bullet list of my thoughts for episodes 18~21
thoughts on episode 18:
oh no, it's the beach episode.
-- i really like how they show the way the PT take care of futaba. ren patiently cleaning up her room in between hours at the florist, them playing vidya with her, or just having lunch together in montage moments is very sweet. it makes me wish the anime had much slower pacing, more slice of life-y kind of drama.
-- watching yusuke, ryuji, and futaba lose their freakin minds over good curry is VERY relatable.
-- i still don't understand why ann and makoto thought that a two piece frilly bathing suit was the way to go with futaba. a one piece that she could wear under a long wrap or a hoodie would've made so much more sense... but >male gaze
-- have i told y'all how fucking tired i am of the sexualization of the teenage girls in p5 yet, and how it is one of the several things that fuckin ruined this game for me
have i?
well here it is again
none of the previous games were as bad as this b t w and p4 had one of the dungeons be a STRIP CLUB.
-- yusuke and his lobsters are wonderful.
-- oh god i forgot COMPLETELY about the whole 'mental shutdowns' thing in this game's plot. i think because it's all so pointlessly convoluted. p3 had something similar but even there it was just people turned catatonic for weeks on end when the monthly boss-shadows drew near.
i think the reason i find this so hard to understand is because from p3 to p4 the rules of shadows didn't really change so much. p3 had the persona users go up against shadow bosses; p4 had people confront the shadows within themselves, either accepting them completely (which then turned into persona), or the shadow 'absorbed' the person and ran rampant as a monster. neither of those rules really contradict each other, but in p5 personal shadows for persona users are gone completely, and how you deal with other people's personal shadows doesn't even involve them being present to complete the merge.
mona says that persona users can't have palaces, but persona users in 4 could and DID have 'dungeons' within the shadows' worlds. these dungeons dealt specifically with what was at the core of the shadows' emergence--a deep secret and a hidden truth that caused the shadow to grow, a place that was a replica and a distortion of reality based upon that suppressed truth. so that sure sounds like a fucking palace to me.
so....................... unless there's like, multiple realities folded into our own, and persona users can only access certain ones.................. i'm just super confused.
like, i know it's because the rules change game to game, but p3 to p4 didn't have any contradictions, and p2 didn't contradict anything in p3, either. it just went from a full party of wild card users to a singular one.
-- i'm glad ann's getting a little screentime here. i was just thinking about how other characters' development was lacking after makoto and futaba got so much focus.
-- mona's so sweet to ann ;-; now that he has a human form in p5r, i hope they become really good friends. she needs a kind guy friend that'll be reliable~ plus he makes her laugh.
-- sojiro talking about the anniversary of wakaba's death is......... really interesting........ considering that screenshot of futaba sitting next to a woman with the exact same haircut as her "deceased" mother.
-- ren reassuring mona that he absolutely has to be human, that he will return to who he used to be once they figure out what's happening in the metaverse is jsut jdfklasd
AND HIS LIL ROUND OF APPLAUSE WHEN MONA TALKS ABOUT ALL THE THINGS HE'S GOING TO DO TO KEEP THE WORLD SAFE ;-;
AND THAT SHOT OF HIM SLEEPING CURLED UP ON REN'S STOMACH
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
-- listen i know mona isn't rly a cat but he's the BEST cat
thoughts on episode 19:
oh it's the hawaii episode.
-- man what the hell kinda budget do these school's got that they can just go overseas with dozens of students on a yearly basis? that's impressive.
-- ryuji: "whoa, awesome! ..... i don't really get it, but awesome!" fjdsafds okay that got a laugh outta me. good one, ryuji.
-- ren: "i'm excited, too." (said in a monotone) fjklsadsl BLESS THIS BOY
-- ren's FACE when he learns that futaba installed a spying app on his phone and can hear him/see pictures he takes is...... kind of hilarious. especially if you have the headcanon that he and akechi send dumbass snapchats to each other a lot--which i do. and which you do now, too.
-- mona's depression is ten times more sad because he's a cat okay :c why they gotta make the cat so cute
-- ren, ryuji, and ann's lil sleepover is adorable. especially since ann chastises ryuji for not knowing one of the basic rules of a sleepover: if you start talkin' about your crushes, you gotta start with your own~ thems the rules lads
-- rip principal bloatneck.
-- honestly that truck shoulda at least TRIED to stop.
-- "A LO HA." goddammit that's adorable
AND HE GIVES THE LEI NECKLACE TO MONA FJDSKFJDSKL ren you're so SWEET.
-- I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT MONA CALLS SAE "ONEE-NO-NIIJIMA" FJADSKLFJDSKL ahhhh it's so cute.
-- the PT targeting okumura, who is essentially the dave thomas with political ambitions of the persona 5 world, is far funnier now that i phrase it like that.
-- ANN, OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE, SAYING THAT THEY PROBABLY BROUGHT THIS RECENT TROUBLE ON THEMSELVES, IS A FUCKING STUPID WRITING DECISION. I CAN'T BELIEVE SOMEONE DIDN'T LOOK AT THAT AND GO, "ANN WOULDN'T SAY THIS. ANN HAS NO REASON TO SAY IT." god. lmao PLEASe let p5r be a goddamn second draft.
-- mona's totally right that ryuji's just concerned with getting popular and his dick wet. like,,, that's why this argument only made me hate ryuji more than i already did. he gets pissy when mona points out the truth.
god he sucks lmao
I'M SORRY I'M SO SALTY YOU GUYS
LOOK I'LL SAY SOMETHING NICE: SAE AND AKECHI ARE COOL
-- i really like how guarded akechi's face looks in his conversation with sae, and how off his guard he looks when she tells him that she's not going to hold back, especially since the culprit is doing such dire, awful things. he's not exactly surprised, but he's definitely uneasy and shaken by what he hears. which makes me wonder who he’s really concerned for--himself, or for ren (and the PT by extension, but akechi only really seems to care about ren, so).
the reason i like that is because the okumura arc in p5 is really where akechi's mind starts its downward spiral. principal kobayakawa's death obviously rattled him, especially since the only reason the principal died was because shido saw him as useless and disposable, something akechi is desperate NEVER TO BE. and it's that + what happens with okumura that really kicks him over the edge.
i hope p5r will give us the chance to pull him back from it. he deserves a better chance than the game's subpar writing gave to him.
thoughts on episode 20:
-- ren wakes up in a panic because he thinks he sees mona on his bed ;___________;
-- goro snoopin' on the PT's LOUD, TOTALLY CONSPICUOUS conversation in front of okumura foods' HQ is kind of adorable if you remember he clearly loves star wars (HE HAS A LIGHT SABER), and the camera cuts to his face right as they're talking about big bang and outer space lingo.
-- oh, haru. i really wish you were the black mask. that would've been so much cooler--and an actual twist. her total hopeless panic about being a beauty thief could still be a thing (because it is actually endearing), it'd just be an act. but that's me talkin' fix-its again.
-- i really like the scene of haru defending mona to the PT on the rooftop, then cutting to show just how strained her relationship is with her father. she exists to be useful to her father's ambitions and nothing else, and that scene really drove home just how painful that is for her.
-- REN TWIRLS HIS HAIR BETWEEN TWO FINGERS WHEN HE'S DEEP IN THOUGHT. AHHHHHHH I FORGOT HE DID THAT
-- oh hey remember how the game went through the trouble of showing how haru's fiance is a sexist, violent, animal-hurting piece of shit and then promptly failed to actually separate her from him in game (i think you only can do that in her s-link?? the s-link you can barely finish in your first run of the game??), and in t hEN SHOWED HER IN THE CAR WITH HIM LATER, LOOKING HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE?
god this story makes me so fucking mad lmfao STOP PUTTING GIRLS IN PHYSICALLY OR SEXUALLY VIOLENT PERIL AND NEVER ACTUALLY ENSURING THAT THEY'RE SAFE, YOU DAVID CAGE LEVEL OF HACK BULLSHIT WRITERS.
-- ryuji running into the attic, all worried about mona, with a first aid kit, is..... very good. very good and endearing. good on you, ryuji.
-- haru gently encouraging mona to tell the truth is also really good. idk if i just missed it in the game or what, but i really like how she's presented in the anime. she's like a counterpart to ren--soft, sincere, observant, patient, yet she's made of pure steel beneath all that.
thoughts on episode 21:
-- WHY WAS HARU'S GRANDFATHER GIVING COFFEE TO A FIVE YEAR OLD
-- haru, the reason your father's heart grew twisted is thanks to capitalism. you gotta change the heart of capitalism.
-- not to be all poochie here but whenever akechi isn't on screen, all i can ask myself is whERE'S AKECHI?
-- HOW CAN I TAKE THE EVIL DAVE THOMAS SERIOUSLY WHEN HE'S DRESSED LIKE FUCKIN MEGAMIND?
-- okay see this is where i'm thrown completely out of the story or even really liking haru. haru just listened to her dad's shadow saying he would PIMP HER OUT TO HER FIANCE WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. and she still is just like ~no i want him to go back to being kind~
bitch are you nuts
are you NUTS
youR DAd SHOULD DIE AND YOU'D BE BETTER OFF
CONSIDERING HOW THE GAME GOES, YOU ARe BETTER OFF
god. i'm getting so mad again lmao
-- ren approaching haru to point out that if the truth of her father's crimes comes to light, she'll forever be associated with him (and with all the harm and ruined reputation that brings) is, once again, further reminder of just how... damn good ren is. he doesn't hesitate to speak from the heart nor does he ever fail to listen to someone else speak from theirs.
-- also not for nothing but uh
how did the cops not like
figure out how the PT phan-site was set up within the first few months and track it down to mishima? was that ever addressed at all?
-- honestly another reason why i get so fucking mad about this okumura stuff is the game goes SO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY to make you feel BAD that he died, when he was by all rights a fucking shitheel monster, yet when akechi dies it's like 'oh well. that sucked.' fuck off, atlus. the death of a greedy, heartless CEO isn't more sad just because his gaslit daughter is conditioned to be sad about it.
i understand that a large part of the shock after okumura's death is because the PT don't know if they did anything wrong. but okumura was in no way a good person. he was in no way a person whose redemption overruled all the hurt and harm he did. that has been the case for EVERY PT target before this, so why the fuck is okumura suddenly so different? why SHOULD he be?
the difference between him and, say, akechi is that okumura et. al. all made those choices on their own to do terrible things. they delighted in it, they enjoyed it. but akechi, much like futaba, was forced into a cycle of self-destruction--it’s just that in futaba’s case, her self-destruction targeted herself, and akechi’s was quite literally weaponized and used against others. he approached shido as a young teenager and was then used by him for years.
a teenage boy being used as a magical hitman by his shitlord father is far more deserving of sympathy and redemption than grown adults who willingly make the decision to harm, abuse, and prey on others. but no, the game didn’t want to do that.
this is another big problem i have with p5's second and third acts: it's so tonally dissonant and sloppy. it's like they didn't try to actually be as rebellious and hellraiser-y as the first act WANTED to be, and it all ends up being such a limp-dick shriveled mess of "let's fight against this rotten society!! ......... as long as it in no way actually upsets anyone or does any REAL change." fuck off lmao
that's not me even commenting on the "twist" and how it needed to be explained MULTIPLE TIMES to the player for it to make any sense.
and it still doesn't make sense to me btw.
so that's another thing i hope p5r fixes.
-- rip evil dave thomas megamind.
-- akechi floating the idea to sae that the phantom thieves had nothing to do with okmura’s death is............................ interesting.
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nightttdreamers · 6 years
Text
You’re in the Band! (Klance) Chapter 2
Hi! Here’s the second chapter of a fic I’m currently writing which is basically a Voltron band AU, focused on Klance but w/ other stuff too ofc.
AO3 link
Hope y’all like it! Feel free to show some love if you do. Thank you!
It had been a month and Lance still didn’t know anything about Keith.
The band met up at least twice a week, usually three times, for a few hours. So, it was safe to say that all of the members were pretty close. When it came to Hunk and Pidge that was true, Hunk was basically family and Pidge knew everything there is know about Lance. But Keith might as well have been on a different planet. In fact, Keith went out of his way just to make sure that his private life was confidential. Every one of Lance’s attempts to learn more about him (“When did you get that guitar?” “Have you always lived in New York?” “What shampoo do you use?”) were shot down with some vague response and a shrug.
Keith had become such a mystery to him that Lance started a new note on his phone, titled “THINGS I KNOW ABT KEITH”
1: hes a guitar god and were not worthy of him
2: he travels a lot (stickers on his guitar case from weird places)
3: likes pidge more than me
Number three really got Lance heated. Although inside she was a softie, Pidge was snarky, sarcastic, and cynical, not exactly the “friendly” type.
Eyeing the other two from his spot at the minifridge stack, Lance was practically fuming while he eavesdropped on some argument Keith and Pidge were having.
“...but it’s just people shooting at each other for ten movies!”
“What? You can’t just simplify it like that!”
“Star Trek takes place in the future, they have women in power ! It’s showing what humanity can do!”
“Star Wars is an entire other universe with complex history that makes logical sense -”
“Jar Jar fucking Binks!”
“Guys! Guys,” Hunk said, stepping between the two and placing a hand on either’s shoulder. “I understand that being huge nerds is really important to you, but please, stop arguing. Star Trek is science fiction and Star Wars is fantasy, you can’t compare the two.”
4: keith prefers star wars over star trek
Keith stepped away from Pidge, who just stuck her tongue out at him. They did this almost every rehearsal, come in either gabbing over something weird or fighting over something weirder. Ever since Keith volunteered to escort Pidge to her apartment after a late-night practice, the two were always bonding , and the sight made Lance want to gag.
Not that he was jealous, or anything. That’s stupid. He didn’t even know Keith! Why would he be upset that the guitarist liked Pidge more than him?
“Um,” Lance cleared his throat, putting his drink back into the minifridge and stepping over. “Not that this -” he gestured to the three. “-isn’t important, but can we rehearse? That thing that people usually do when they’re in a rehearsal?”
After some affirmations, everyone had moved into their spots. Keith either stood between Lance and Hunk or against the back wall during rehearsals, never showing interest in claiming a space for himself. It kind of made Lance uneasy, like Keith would just leave at any moment, because if he was gone there wouldn’t be anything to even show that he was in Voltron. Which is why Lance tried to have him learn the whole album and be ready to record in a month. Thanks to his un-fucking-believable talent, Keith was ready, as was the rest of the band.
“I think we should just play through the whole album, make sure it’s perfect, no stopping,” Pidge suggested, simultaneously typing out something on her laptop.
Hunk nodded, responding, “If we’re all good, we should record later this week. Album out as soon as possible.”
“Can we even call it an album?” Asked Keith, not looking up from his guitar tuning. This caught Lance’s attention, Keith voicing his opinion? He usually put in his two cents about chord suggestions or timing, but never actual band stuff (another thing that made Lance uneasy; He was unsure if the guitarist really cared about the band). Keith clearly picked up on Lance’s surprise, looking at the other and straightening up. “I mean, it’s really an EP. There’s only seven songs.”
“Officially, it’s an EP, yeah, but it would be an album if we could pay for that much recording time,” Pidge replied.
Lance rolled his eyes, grabbing the mic. “Guys, EP, album, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just play!”
It took a few tries, but they managed to play all the way through, perfectly. The album (well, EP) was just comprised of the band member’s favorite songs out of the dozens they’d written, so it had actually been finished for months. All they’d needed was a guitarist (check) and an actual recording (soon-to-be check).
And they sounded great . As great as they could, at least, in the recording they would layer on more sounds and then sound awesome .
“Guys, this is gonna sound awesome !” Lance said once they had dispersed. There were a few positive affirmations from the group, who seemed to all be in a hurry. “Should we go out? Celebrate? Get drunk and watch bad movies? Get high and watch bad movies?”
Pidge tucked her laptop into her backpack, then made a beeline for the door. “Love to, but I am late for my shift, later!”
Lance’s grin faltered, since when did Pidge get a job? He turned his attention over to Hunk, texting on his phone.
“Hunk? Buddy?”
The bassist looked up, quickly shoving his phone away. “See, uh, I kinda have plans. Plans with this girl-“
“YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE?” Lance shouted, dropping his backpack and rushing to Hunk. “Is it with Shay? It’s totally with Shay, just tell me it’s with Shay!”
Hunk tugged at his collar, glancing away. “... Maybe.”
Lance grinned, wrapping his arms around his friend. “This is your night, dude! Woo her! Remember my advice!”
“Your advice sucks.”
“So then remember not to follow it.”
Hunk slid out of Lance’s arms, heading towards the door. “Thanks, man. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck!” Lance shouted after him as Hunk left.
Why didn’t he tell me he had a date? Especially with Shay? He’s been trying to ask her out for like, a year.
“You okay?”
Oh, right. Keith was still there, his brows furrowed. That was his default face, just looking confused and disinterested and pissed off. But, he sounded pretty concerned.
“What? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Um, you look really sad.”
Lance straightened up, grabbing his backpack again. “I’m not sad, I’m just… confused. If you had been trying to go out with a girl for, like, forever, and you finally got a date with her, wouldn’t you tell your best friend?”
Keith shrugged. “That would never happen, so, I don’t know.”
“Why not? You got the whole ‘bad boy’ thing down, chicks love that.”
Keith just shoots Lance a look (not just any look, an are-you-fucking-kidding-me-you-idiot look), and shrugs again, kneeling down to open up his guitar case.
Lance pursed his lips, folding his arms.
5: he really hates me
Maybe Keith wasn’t the best person to ask for advice, or talk to, or just interact with in general. But he got along so well with Pidge when they talked about nerdy stuff, so what was the issue with talking to Lance?
“So, you like Star Wars?” You sounds like someone’s awkward dad, that’s why he always gives you that look, why do you even try?
“I guess,” Keith says, picking up his case.
They fall into another silence and Lance contemplates being swallowed up into the abyss right there.
Okay, McClain. You’re a people person, conversation is your thing. Use your charms! There’s gotta be something he wants to talk about.
“How’s being in the band?” Lance asks the other, just as he’s about to step through the door.
Miraculously, a hint of a smile tugs at his lips as Keith turns his head away. “It’s cool.”
“And what about the EP? Any thoughts?” The cuban boy asks, stepping closer.
“Not really.” Fuck , Lance thought they were actually getting somewhere with that.
With a dejected nod, the singer slides by Keith and steps through the door. “Okay, then, see ya.”
Why do you even fucking bother? Who cares if you don’t know everything about Keith? Maybe he’s secretly a shitty person who kicks puppies and-
“I like robbers.”
Lance turns around, on the sidewalk outside of the Garrison. He quirks a brow at Keith, standing in the doorway behind him. “What?”
“The song, robbers, on the EP. I like it.”
Lance exhales, smiling. “Oh, the song. I thought you meant like, burglaries and stuff. I don’t know why you’d mean that, that’s stupid, unless you’re really into being a thief and stuff. I don’t judge, well, I kinda do, how can you not-” Lance catches sight of Keith’s face, which did look less pissed off for a moment, but is now reverting. “I’m sorry, uh, I talk a lot.”
Keith nods, unamused. “I can tell.”
Oh no, they will not fall victim to another awkward silence. “Why do you like robbers?” Lance blurts out, nearly shouting it.
Keith steps out of the doorway, beginning to walk. He tilts his head in the direction he’s going and after a moment of being unable to read a social cue, Lance follows alongside him. “It’s a good song, it’s… different.”
“What do you mean, different? Like, good or bad different?”
“Neither, it’s just not the kind of song I thought that I’d like.”
Now it was Lance’s turn to knit his brows. “What kind of music do you usually like?”
Keith paused, glancing over to the other. He looked hesitant, then shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to walk. “Rock.”
“Wow, you’re picky, that’s not a broad genre at all, very specific.”
“Okay, classic rock.” Lance rolled his eyes, sighing and making sure Keith could hear it. “You can’t just ask someone to narrow down their music taste like that!”
And then, Lance’s heart did a little thing in his chest because, fuck , Keith was actually pretty cute. Especially when he was mad, his voice cracks and his shoulders stiffen up. Lance can’t help but crack a smile at the sight.
“Dude, chill, I’m just asking questions.”
Keith looks away, turning his attention back to the sidewalk before them.“Right, sorry.” The two were quiet for a second, but it wasn’t as awkward as before.
“So, classic rock?”
“Yeah, classic rock.”
They spoke for some time about their tastes in music, and music in general. It seemed to be the only subject Keith was good at speaking about. Every time they drifted towards another topic, they’d end up right back where they started. But, Lance didn’t mind. In fact, he actually liked talking to Keith.
“And you write all the lyrics?” Keith had asked, later into their walk.
Lance nodded, beaming with pride. “Yep! Well, Pidge and Hunk sometimes give me ideas, but, the actual lyrics are all mine.” He pulled out his phone, opening it to his notes and handing it to Keith. “They’re all under ‘song lyrics.’”
Also, the best part about talking to Keith? He made the singer feel like an actual member of Voltron. In the past, if he ever brought up that he was the songwriter, reactions were typically “eh” or “what instrument do you play?” To which he’d have to go through the awkward “oh, none, I just sing.” But, Keith was actually really interested in his lyrics, and Lance felt great.
“Yeah, I just write down lyrics all the time, whenever, wherever. Once I have enough little sections, I put them in my notebook. Editing on a phone is just easier, though,” Lance explained.
There was a silence from the other boy, then, “I don’t hate you.”
Lance looked over to Keith, then glanced down at his phone in his hands. “THINGS I KNOW ABT KEITH” was in bold atop the screen. Suddenly, Lance regretted everything ever and wanted to crawl into the manhole that was just a few feet away. They’d call him the manhole-man, and he’d never have to face Keith again.
“Do you think I hate you?”
Lance shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I just- uh, okay, so, I thought you hated me, but that was like, an hour ago! Then, we had this whole bonding sesh,” his hands gestured to the two of them. “And now, I don’t think you hate me anymore! Right? Unless, do you?”
Keith’s expression was blank save the curl of his upper lip, giving a pretty good clue as to how he felt. “No, I don’t hate you. Why would you even think that?”
Lance flung his arms out, shrugging (once again, too exaggerated). “Uh, I dunno, maybe it’s because every time I’ve tried to talk to you for the past month you’ve responded in five words or less. Or because the three times, I counted, I’ve asked you to hang out you’ve declined before I could even finish asking? Not to mention that you only talk to Pidge and now, apparently, Hunk? And it’s not really an uncommon thing for people to hate me, like it’s a daily thing! Should I go on?”
Now, he could read Keith’s expression. He looked… embarrassed? No, that was guilt in his eyes, for sure. And then, that guilt was all over Lance’s face as he straightened up and frantically waved his hands.
“But it’s fine! I get it, you’re just not a big talker! It’s okay!” Nice going, asshole, first you think he hates you, then when he says he doesn’t, you give him a reason to.
“I just… I don’t really talk to people often,” Keith said, the way he bit his lower lip slightly before speaking catching most of Lance’s attention. “I don’t mean to come off like an asshole, okay? I don’t hate you, so this whole list is wrong.”
“The whole thing?”
“Yeah,” Keith said, handing the phone back over to Lance. “I’m not a god, chill. I just really like guitar. I don’t travel a lot,” he gestured to his case, which was on his back ( how did that not hurt? ). “These stickers aren’t mine, I’ve never even been out of the country. I don’t like Pidge more than you, nor do I like Star Wars over Star Trek, they’re incomparable.”
And just like that, Keith Kogane made Lance feel like an idiot. An idiot who keeps tabs and notes on people instead of just talking to them, which defeats his purpose of trying to know someone better by blocking that person out instead.
For lack of anything else to say, Lance simply stopped, gesturing to the building behind him. “Um, I live here.” And, once again, trying to make conversation; “Do you live close?”
Keith shook his head. “No, I actually live across town, west side.”
“Seriously? That’s like, really far, man. Why would you walk me all the way here?”
Keith’s response, unsurprisingly, was a shrug. “Like I said, I don’t hate you.”
With that, Keith turned around and walked back in the same direction they came from, and Lance watched his figure, although mostly obscured by the guitar on his back, fade away.
Wow.
Later that night, Lance was in his bed, scribbling in his notebook.
They call me the manhole man.
I just don’t feel whole, man.
Because I feel like an idiot, which I am.
And you’re just there looking like, damn.
Not all of his lyrics were great.
“Where’s the Redbull?”
“That shit’ll stunt your growth, Pidge.”
“Hm, interesting. Never heard that before, what’s also interesting is I don’t give a shit.”
Lance rolled his eyes at Pidge, resting his headphones around his neck. She didn’t seem to care, returning to whatever tech stuff that was happening on her computer and launchpads.
Keith, who after the Almost-Disastrous-Walk-Home incident a few nights ago began to actually speak with Lance, chimed in, which was something the band hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. “Lance,” he said, gesturing to what was occurring outside the recording booth.
Hunk was leaning over the soundboard, his attention (that would usually be on the board) turned to the girl working it. His eyes were all big and soft, like how he looked when he saw a cute animal video or well-made desserts, totally fixated on her. Shay, the aforementioned girl, was beep boop ing over on the board (a technical term, according to Lance), explaining to Hunk as she went along.
“Hey! Hunky Hunk!" Lance shouted, to no reply. The door was open, so there was no reason for him to be ignored right now. "Tonka Truck! Fudge Chunk! HUNK!” Lance continued to yell, waving his arms. This, after too long, earned the attention of Hunk, who quickly hurried into the recording booth.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized hastily, picking up his bass.
Shay leaned into the mic outside of the booth, gesturing for everyone to put their headphones on. “Okay, guys, we don’t have that much time to record, so try and make it count, okay?”
The group gave a few positive cheers and nods, Keith even gave a thumbs up! (Which was probably not as monumental as Lance thought it was.)
“Alright! Ready?” Shay asked, waiting for another affirming response. “Awesome! Voltron, track one, take one. And… go!”
It took all day to record the album (or EP? They never clarified). The group arrived at Balmera Recording Studios at seven in the morning, and left at almost midnight. It was a long, draining day, filled with plenty of caffeine breaks and yawning. One thing that made recording easier was the knowledge that their time was discounted. It helped that their bassist was dating the girl working at the record studio, and this earned them a pretty good deal. However, the catch was that it was only for a 12+ hour session.
It worked, and they got the discount. But, they paid the price of complete exhaustion by the time they were done.
“One last thing before you guys go,” Shay said, just as the group was halfway out the door. The four members simultaneously turned their heads, each of their expressions dull and lazy. “I just need the song titles."
Lance nodded sleepily, pushing past everyone and moving at a snail’s pace to Shay.
“Just type it in, right on the computer.”
self titled: an EP by Voltron
1.  I’m not Famous [E]
2.  Vowels (And the Importance of Being Me)
3. The Beach
4.  New Perspective
5.  Robbers
6.  All Over
7.  i heard you were looking like the moon
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kristannafever · 7 years
Text
Bikes and Badges - Two
KP!  I updated the thing!  LOL  Kristoff Motorcycle Cop AU
Rated: M (swearing) WC: 2927 -This is all from Sven’s POV, and picks up pretty much right after the first chapter.
Chapter One
Sven smiled at the sound of the bike pulling up this little shop, knowing exactly who it was.  He had spent many happy hours working on that bike, and in turn, Kristoff had helped work on his own.  There was nothing he enjoyed more than getting out on the open road with Kris.
He looked up when the chime on the door sounded, as his best friend walked in with an easy smile on his face.  Sven didn’t have to see his casual clothes to know he was off-duty.  His Road King police cruiser sounded nothing like his custom chopper, so he fully expected for him to walk in with his Jeans, t-shirt and black leather riding vest, and he was not wrong.
Kristoff sauntered up to where Sven stood behind the counter and leaned over, propping his elbow on the top and just looked at him and smiled.
Sven had to laugh. “Must have been a good day.”
He took off his Aviators. “It was a great day.”
Sven grinned at him. “This would have nothing to do with Anna, would it?”
His smiled faltered. “How...?”
“How do I know about Anna? Well, I just talked to her about ten min ago.”
“Dammit, I knew I should have called you before I was off duty.”
Sven laughed.  “Don’t worry, I put two and two together.  I’m trying to get a line on the part right now.” He turned back to his computer. “Not gonna be cheap though.”
“I told her you could get it for her at cost.”
Sven paused, and looked over at his friend.  “Like her huh?”
He nodded.  “Ahyuh.”
“Is she hot?  She sounded really hot on the phone.”
“Man, she’s… beautiful.”
“She must be if you told her I’d give it to her for cost.”
“You will, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”  Sven waved his hand and looked back at his computer.
“I appreciate it man. I owe you one.”
He laughed.  “You owe me?  We both know that I still owe you far more than I’ve been able to repay, so don’t even go there.“  He said, looking over the information on the part again.
He was quiet for brief moment before he spoke.  “I went for lunch with her, then I asked her out.”
Sven looked up.  “You?  Really?”
Kristoff just smiled and nodded sheepishly.
“While on duty?  I’m impressed Bjorgman.  She must be something else.”
“She is.”
“Well good for you.   ‘Bout time you had another woman in your life.”
Kristoff shot him a warning look that he knew was coming, but it was true.  He hadn’t been serious with anyone since he was left at the alter all those years ago, and Sven was starting to worry about him.  
“Well look, I have to scram. I’m heading over to my Aunt and Uncles for a quick dinner before I head back home.  We’re still on for that ride tomorrow, right?”
“You know it.”
“Awesome.”  Kristoff slapped him on the shoulder.   “See you bright and early my friend.”
Sven shook his head with a smirk as Kristoff walked out of his shop.  He heard the bike come to life and his smile became very genuine.  He turned his attention back to the computer and picked up the phone.  He managed to work out a good deal with the fellow selling the tail light, and was happy to phone Anna back and tell her that it was getting shipped overnight and that he would call her when it arrived.
He couldn’t help but already like Anna at how grateful she was, and the fact that she offered to come and pay him right away, to which he told her there was simply no need.  He had hung up the phone with a few more thank you’s from her, and a couple don’t mention it’s from him.
He still had to meet her of course, but how she talked on the phone and her very nice manners and obvious kindness, he couldn’t help but feel that she was going to be a good thing for his best friend.
*****
Sven yawned as he rode up to Kristoff’s, not at all surprised that he was already outside, going over the chrome exhaust with a cloth.  The level of detail that man had, to make sure his ride looked good, never ceased to amaze him.  
Kristoff looked up at Sven’s arrival and smiled wide, standing and flicking the ignition, bringing the beast to life.  Sven waited as Kristoff put on his helmet and leather vest and got on his bike. As soon as he was ready, he pulled out onto the street with Sven close behind.  
They drove out of Boston in the bright July morning sunshine, and down the South Shore before they stopped in Plymouth for a quick breakfast at their usual spot.   After the meal, they got back on their rides, and Kristoff followed Sven, as it always was on the way back, as they and headed over to Taunton, before turning North back to Boston.
Sven enjoyed his morning rides with Kristoff.  Since his shop had been doing well, he was able to hire some help to take over for him while he took advantage of the summer months.  But it was a rough go a couple years back, and he almost had to shut the doors to his business.  But he managed to pull through, although it had been some exhausting hours running the shop all by himself.
Kristoff had helped him get through it all.  He didn’t have a lot of extra scratch himself, but he lent Sven what he could, and ran the place for two days (working through his weekend), when Sven was laid out with the flu.  Kristoff had also let him stay in his house for a year and half because Sven couldn’t afford a place of his own, and he had never asked for a single dime for rent, or food, even though he was sure having him there was taxing on the monthly bills.
All so that he could keep the business he built with his own two hands.
Sven still couldn’t believe that he wound up with such an amazing friend.  Kristoff would give him the shirt of his back, if he knew Sven needed it, and he was eternally grateful that the shy and quiet blond kid in third grade wanted to be his friend, because everyone else said he was too annoying to play with.
They became lifelong friends from that very first day they went to the playground together at recess. He knew Kristoff had his back, always, and Sven wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for him.   Nearly did once.
He smiled to himself and headed back to his shop, with Kristoff close behind.
*****
Sven walked up to the counter to see the two young kids he had hired to work the mornings over the summer, and the box that he had specifically told them to put on his desk as soon as it came in.
“How long has this been here?”
The young guy looked over with an apathetic expression.
“This package?  How long has it been here?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged, and looked over to the other young guy, who just shook his head that he had no idea either.
“What do I pay you guys for?”  Sven muttered and grabbed the box and walked into his office.  He picked up the phone right away, as Kristoff sauntered in, and sat in the chair across from him and plopped his big black motorcycle boots on the desk.
As it rang, Sven picked up a pen, which was the closest thing he could find, and poked the bottom of his soles relentlessly, until Kristoff removed his boots from his desk.
“Hi, is this Anna?”
It was hard not to notice Kristoff’s smile.
“Uh huh, yes it’s in, anytime you want to come by.  Sure, yeah, I’ll be here.  No problem. See you soon.  No problem.  Ok.  No worries, really.  Ok, bye.”
He hung up and looked at Kristoff.  “She’ll be here in 20.”
He gave a deep sigh and his already broad smile somehow widened even more.  “Awesome.”
Sven leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend.  “Wow.  You are smitten.”
Kristoff opened his mouth to protest, but closed it slowly.  He rolled his eyes up in thought for a moment before he looked back at Sven. “I suppose, maybe I am?  I mean, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. But, I just met her yesterday!  I barely know her!  How can I feel so strongly about someone who I had lunch with?  Once.”
“Sometimes when you know, you know.”
Kristoff’s eyes darkened ever so slightly.  “I don’t know… I thought I had good judgement, but my track record doesn’t exactly agree.”
“You have to forget about Brittney, man.  That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, and I’ve had a dozen or so dates since then, and all of them turned out to be complete disasters. I mean remember Tiffany?  I had to arrest her, dude!”
“I remember.”  Sven mumbled.  
Kristoff sighed.  “I just hope I’m not seeing something that isn’t there, like I always do.”
“Well, think about it this way… you’re due for a win.”
Kristoff laughed.  “I sure hope you’re right.”
Sven changed the subject, knowing that he’d rather have Kristoff thinking about the future and not his past, so they talked about what they were going to do next on Sven’s bike, and the trip they planned to take to up to Halifax at the end of the summer.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock at Sven’s door, and the young kid working the counter told him that a lady named Anna was there to see him.  
Sven looked over at Kristoff as he sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair.  Oh, he is SO taken with her.  “Well, send her in Jason, don’t just stand there.”  He said to the kid staring from the open door.  A couple of seconds later, and Sven understood in an instant what Kristoff had meant when he said that Anna was beautiful.  She was that, in spades.  
Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw him.  “Kristoff! What a nice surprise!”
Kristoff stood and Anna did not hesitate to walk right up to him and give him a hug.   “Sven and I went for a ride this morning, so I thought I’d stay and say hi, since you were headed over.”
“That’s so sweet!  Is that your bike out front?”  
“It is. I’ll show it to you sometime, if you want?”
Sven interjected before Anna could answer.  “It’ll take me a few minutes to do up the invoice, and install the light, if you want to go check it out now.”
Anna turned her focus back to Kristoff.   “Sure.” She said, and there was no missing the genuine enthusiasm.
They walked out of the office and Sven had to smile to himself.  He had a good feeling about the two of them.  A very good feeling.
He pulled up the already completed invoice on his computer and hit print, and walked to the counter to fetch it from the printer.   He set it by the till and leaned his arms against the counter top, watching the two of them out the front windows.  They were both all smiles.  Kristoff was pointing at his bike and talking and anna was nodding and listening.  It looked like she was asking him things, because he would touch something on the bike or show her something, and she would nod and say something else.  
“She is so hot.”  He heard Jason’s squeaky teenage voice from the other end of the counter talking to Dwayne.  
“She’s a fox.”  The other idiot replied.
Sven looked over to see them looking at Anna, but he bit his tongue, understanding the horniness of teenage boys, and rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his best friend. Kristoff has folded his arms across his chest, and must have said something funny, because they both laughed and Anna placed a hand gently on Kristoff’s forearm.  Sven gave himself a small nod of approval, when he heard Jason pipe up again.
“I’ll bet she gives great head.”
“She’s probably a freak in the sheets too.”  Dwayne added.
Sven turned to them.  “Jason, Dwayne, you guys are seventeen, and I am willing to bet my shop that you are both still virgins and would have no idea what to do with a real woman if one fell naked into your laps, so shut the fuck, up and get back to work.”
He watched in delight and they both turned beet red and turned away to busy themselves with something, which they were supposed to be doing anyway, instead ogling Kristoff’s lady.
Sven went outside to join them, enjoying the warm summer sun on his face.  He envied Kristoff a little, being able to work outside and ride around all summer, but he knew he would never have the chops to be a cop. Kristoff had showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night one too many times, needing to have a drink of Bourbon and someone to talk to.  He knew Kristoff hid a lot of details from him, but the things he had heard were enough. He could never hack wearing a badge, and he admired the hell out of Kristoff for being able to.
“Hey Anna, got the invoice done up.  I can take your car around back and install it for you right now, if you like?”
“Really?  That’s so nice.  Thank you, Sven.”  She said, digging into her purse and getting her keys.  
Sven took them from her hand.  “If you want to settle up the invoice it’s on the counter inside.  Jason or Dwayne can help… wait, never mind.  Kristoff knows what to do, ring her up will you, man?”
Kristoff gave him a questioning look but shrugged it off immediately.  “Sure thing.”
Sven hopped in Anna’s car, and drove it around his shop to the garage in the back.  It was a little hard to work around the bulk of the engine, but he managed to get it done fairly quickly, and he drove the car around front to see Anna sitting on Kristoff’s bike as he stood beside her, talking. Sven paused as he was getting from the car, looking at them.  Kristoff was always a solo rider, so his bike only had the single seat, but Sven’s Street Glide had a spot for a passenger for when and if there was a girl in life, and he was getting ideas for the two of them.
“You’ll have to borrow my bike sometime, if Anna ever wants to take a ride with you.”  He said as he approached them.
Sven was ticked with the way Anna looked at Kristoff.  “Oh Kristoff. That would be fun.”
“Why don’t you take it for a boot now?  I’ve got some Ladies helmets.  I’m sure we can find one that fits you.”  Sven added.
She looked from him back to Kristoff with a smile, the twinkling question in her eyes.  
“Absolutely, if you want to, we can for sure take a spin.”  Kristoff said.
“You won’t go too fast though, right?”
Kristoff laughed. “And break the speed limit?  I wouldn’t dare.  Don’t want to get a ticket.”
They both laughed and Sven joined them, proud of himself.  They went into his shop to the small selection of motorcycle accessories and found a helmet for Anna, and a jacket that fit, since she was only wearing a tank top with her jeans.
Kristoff slid his leg over the seat and started the bike.  Anna took Sven’s offered hand, and he helped her climb on the back as Kristoff tightened the strap on his helmet.  “Make sure you hold onto him tight, yeah?”  He said to Anna’s ear, so that only she would hear him.
She smiled at him and did as she was told, sliding her hands around Kristoff’s waist, and hugging his back nice and close. Sven stood back as Kristoff backed the bike out from the front of the shop, and he turned to him and mouthed Thank You, before grinning like an idiot, and pulling off onto the street, and out of site.
Sven wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought that he maybe heard Anna squeal in delight as Kristoff opened the throttle.  He inhaled the muggy summer air one more time, before he retreated back to the air conditioning.
He walked back to the counter where Jason and Dwayne were standing there, practically picking their noses. “Get back to work!”  He barked, and enjoyed the way the scrambled around again, looking for tasks to be done.  They were lazy as fuck, but they were good kids, and he hoped he could light a fire under their asses and teach them a little work ethic by the time they went back to high school in the fall.  
He took a seat at his desk just as his phone dinged with a text message.  It was the waitress from the diner down the street, that he had been flirting with at lunch all week.
Coming for a bite today, big guy?
“Oh baby…”  Sven muttered, before he texted back his affirmative reply.
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