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hi lapis how are youuu ^_^ i’m just coming to check in on u and make sure ur taking care of urself !! how was ur week? i hope ur birthday was nice :D i hope this coming week is kind to u also, u deserve it 💘 make sure to drink ur water and get lots of rest, i love u !! ✧~(ゝᴗ ∂ )
Hi Sylvia! I’ve been all right I believe; I hope you’re doing okay as well? I always find it so endearing how dedicated you are to ensuring that everyone is seeing to their needs but, I really hope you practices similar care with yourself as well. You’re such a precious part of this community, and I love you too. ♥️
As for my week, aha… I think I’ve spent the majority of it in aid of my peers. The few people whose company I actually appreciate and wish to spend my remaining two years at this institute in, are, uh. barely prepared? As in, a good portion of the syllabus is completely untouched and now they’re ruining their sleep schedule trying to power through it, the exact same way they did last time. And I? Am horrified? The public law exam is tomorrow; and by tomorrow, what I really mean, is 14 hours. The night before the exam is so important, and one must ensure they’re well-rested, but no. I’m doing my best to help them since all my work has been compiled and ready to go for quite some time now, and they repay me by. lightheartedly treating me like a teacher? They even go so far as to call me “ma’am”, but I’m. not sure that’s enough anymore. I think I need to be paid salary accordingly at this point (jest)
It doesn’t help I’m quite worried for myself too; it becomes so much easier to be worried when it isn’t a matter of just passing or failing. I need to score high; I’d prefer to score the highest but for the sake of my overall total grade (which dictates what type of degree you get, actually, which then dictates your prospects of not only scholarships but then also which institutes offer you scholarships) I need to score high. Even a mere pass is the same as failing for me in my eyes and that is terrifying. I’m confident in my abilities though, I promise. I believe the fear that I’m experiencing is completely natural and expected in this situation and overconfidence would be more concerning if anything.
My birthday went so smoothly though; I was blessed with the company and affection of such wonderful people both online and offline, and I think that, combined with how sensitive I already was from the relief of my contract exam, led to me feeling so overwhelmingly sentimental, and grateful for so many things as well. Including you, and so many others in this community. So, thank you, so, so much; from the bottom of my heart. <3
#✧.*🌹#hi sylvia i love you so much! i hope you’ve been well.#i should take my own advice per the second paragraph and get to bed but.#considering that it is 12 AM and I am not tired at all the prospects are NOT looking too good.#my tendency to start rambling when asked a simple question still seems to very much be in tact I see.
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i want you || twilight
twilight - loid forger x reader
chapter 02
you decided to run away, after that. running away from your problems was easier than just facing them, in many cases. especially this one. so, you took a job as far as you could go. it wasn't that hard, considering your high rankings at your age. you were privileged with getting to choose many of your operations, seeing as a few of the higher ups had taken a liking to you due to you basically growing up there. you continued to choose further operations, opting to take lengthier ones as well. though it was harder on you, both mentally and physically, working every second you could just so you could avoid being under WISE's walls in hopes you would never see your first love ever again.
you hopped around jobs like that until you were twenty five. within those five years, you learned it wasn't too bad being on your own. thinking back on it, you were far too foolish when you were younger- thinking you could have your own storybook life. it was never supposed to happen, yet you chose to break your own heart.
after a particularly longer mission, one of the longer ones that you've been assigned to, you had hoped to lay low in Ostania for a slight breather. your dreams for a small break were short lived when they called you into the building you grew up in. WISE headquarters- the place you tried avoiding the most. your arrival to the base wasn't a quiet one, to say the least. with you being gone for almost three years along with the little to no contact safety, your higher ups definitely wanted to say hi.
˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ .ೃ࿐
there were bright lights and loud laughter flooding the room. the smell of tobacco and alcohol mixed together along with the smell of amazingly delicious food. although it was a celebration of your homecoming, you weren't talking to anyone much unless they walked up to you. you had already conversed with your favorite higher ups before you got there so in all honesty, it didn't bother you much. that was until you were broken out of your daze by your handler sylvia sherwood. she was the one who had helped train you, helping you rise through the ranks to be the agent you were. "well, don't you look lovely tonight. too cool for the party, ms. ares?" your handler asked you with a sly smirk. you looked up at her from your seat at the table and leaned back, a smirk of your own crawling onto your face. "of course i am, sylvia. have you seen me? i'm the attraction of the party after all." you tell her jokingly. maybe it was the energy of the party, or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system, but talking to your handler made you feel like you were just speaking to an old friend. an old friend who happened to help raise you.
sherwood looked over to you as she pulled a seat close to you, sitting down. "listen, i know you just got back, but i have a job offer for you." she says to you with a hushed voice. you hummed lightly as if telling her to continue while you pour yourself another cup of liquor. "we're calling it operation strix. our main objective is to stop the national unity party from starting a war between westalis and ostania," she starts off and you nod to indicate you were listening. seeing this, sylvia continues, "the target is donovan desmond, the leader of said unity party. the only issue is, he refuses to make any public appearances other than the ones held at his son's school private events." you look up from your cup, glancing at your handler. "so you need me to break into a school?" you asked her skeptically. she laughs lightly and shakes her head, dismissing your idea. "you along with another agent will be paired together to work on this operation. it is crucial that you two build a family and have your child enroll into eden academy. there, your child will be expected to get you both invited to privately held events. that is when you will meet your target." she details as you mentally note everything. working with someone will be new, after being away for so long. as if sherwood could read your mind, "it is for the better that you work together to maintain peace between ostanian and westalian governments." you swallowed deeply, feeling a weight added onto your shoulders before you even accept the job. the country is at offer and you had to protect it. finally, you speak up. "who is the other agent on this operation?" you asked her curiously and she let out a laugh, an odd look of mischief in her eyes. "you'll meet them tomorrow, i'll send you the location." is all she says before she gets up and leaves.
˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ .ೃ࿐
the next morning you wake up with a throbbing headache and barely any recollection of anything after you started dancing when they called you to the floor. regardless, you woke up in your old room fully clothed and no odd sores or bruising. you're grateful for that, at the very least. dragging yourself out of bed, you take painkillers in hopes to soothe your hangover by the time you have to meet with sylvia. you glance at the clock before deciding to go on a quick run in the organization's gym. it was a little thing you had picked up recently, hoping to find some sort of routine in your life. after you had left for your most recent mission, it was weird being in a place where you knew almost no one. you were a spy, a ruthless and cold blooded killer when you had to be. still, the quiet of your 'home' for your last operation was too much. you tried picking up little hobbies to busy yourself whilst the mission took place. painting was one- though, who ever told you to pick up a paintbrush? you dropped that one fairly quickly. writing was the next before you stopped once you found yourself writing about superheroes. super original, i know. you had picked up several other hobbies, none really worth mentioning for the most part. still, you find a bit of stress flow off you once you start to run.
˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ .ೃ࿐
you freshened up and took a quick train ride into the city where you would be meeting sylvia and the agent you would be working with. you pull your sleeve down as you boredly wait for your stop to be called. who were you going to be working with? why did sylvia keep them a secret to you? you listed off potential agents who would be a good fit for the operation, occupying yourself until your stop is called. when you finally arrive, you step out of the train and glance around. it had been quite a while since you had been in the city but you found yourself at a quaint cafe in a few minutes.
the strong scent of coffee beans seemingly smack you straight on and the warmth of the cafe makes you feel at home. you made a beeline to the corner booth of the cafe, spotting the familiar figure of your handler sitting there, seat facing the entrance. three cups of coffee sit on the table- one half empty, sherwood's, one made exactly to your liking, and one made straight black. who drinks their coffee plain these days? you take a seat across from your handler and give her a curt nod, wishing her good morning. "where are they?" you asked her promptly, mixing your coffee. "he should be arriving any minute soon." she answered you, holding her hands neatly on the table as she sat up straight. you raise a brow at her as your sip at your drink, curiosity building. just as you open your mouth to ask her another question, you hear a faint ring of the entrance bell. your handler looks up at the door then back to you, clearing her throat. a voice cuts through the brief silence, causing you to look up from your cup. "sherwood, nice to see you again." the voice says and you swear your heart drops on the spot. the man who stood at the end of the booth was blond, his hair messily done for the morning. his sharp steel blue eyes look at you as you look at him, searching with a need for something. he wears a simple white dress shirt along with black pants to match. you suddenly become acutely aware of the dark blue sweater you wear with a collared shirt underneath it. suddenly, you worry if your hair was out of place or if your breath already smelled like your caffeinated drink. you feel your heartbeat increase and your palms get sweaty as his stare begins to soften. sherwood's voice breaks the moment, bringing you back to where you were now. "ares, agent twilight will be your partner for this operation." you look over to her as the man takes the seat next to you.
"i refuse."
˚ ⋆ ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・
haha. i still dont understand tumblr.
#loid x reader#loid forger x reader#loid forger#yor briar#anya forger#spy x family#spy family#sxf anime#anime#loid fluff
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Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone
This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.
Beloved - Toni Morrison
~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”
Ulysses - James Joyce
~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote.
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith
~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.
The Color Purple - Alice Walker
~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.
The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison
~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou
~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.
Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison
~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce
~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.
Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.
The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner
~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).
Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison
~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams
~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.
Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin
~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.
HERmione - H.D.
~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life).
To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers
~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.
The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot
~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:
“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”
“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “
(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)
The Trial - Franz Kafka
~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard
~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.
As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner
~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.
And, last but not least:
The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath
~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:
“The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga, Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent, One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty. She has folded Them back into her body as petals Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”
HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!
#dark academia#books and literature#toni morrison#james joyce#tennessee williams#virginia woolf#william faulkner#sylvia plath#plays#poetry#can you tell i like southern and modernist lit lol?
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You're No Good - Ch. 2
C.J. Bennett is an overly ambitious student who dreams of shadowing her favorite author, Eli Jennings. The only thing standing in her way: Grayson Dolan.
warnings: this is a rough draft of a series i never finished. i'm posting the finished chapters before leaving this account. 🤍
part 1
If American Lit 1102 was C.J.’s personal hell, her job could at least be considered her own reprieve.
Sunnyside Vintage is an old shop off of Sunset, having been open for the last 30 years. It wasn’t the nicest of thrift stores — the clothes always have a weird mothball smell and everything is old - and not in the trendy way. C.J. loves it. The windows are huge, letting California sunlight wash the stucco walls gold, and the mannequins are always dressed straight out of the 70’s. The pay isn’t always great, but C.J. is allowed to take whatever she wants more than makes up for it in her eyes.
“I just don’t understand. I mean, Stevens has praised me this entire semester. She even told me personally he’s never had a student write as well as me nor pick up on the work as fast as I have. Wouldn’t that be qualities you’d want in an intern, Bea? Even Grayson Dolan would’ve been a better pick.” C.J. turns to her boss, angrily folding flared jeans.
Another reason C.J. loves Sunnyside — her boss, Beatrice “Bea” Walker. Once a glitzy soap star of the ’50’s, she retired with her husband and opened Sunnyside in the late 80’s. Despite being in her late-70s, she still holds on to the same glamour and charm that made her a household name a century prior.
“Maybe there was another reason. It could be something other then your application.” She croaks, lifting a pumpkin to place next to a costumed mannequin. As halloween rapidly approaches, the store was starting to transform to fit the fall season — hoping to draw in customers to purchase unique costumes for the holiday.
Before she can move to help Bea, the doors chime, signaling an entrance. Walking through with seemingly-glowing skin and a symphonic smile was Alexi, C.J.’s best friend and roommate. It’s hard to miss Alexi whenever she walks into a room — from her bleached-blue hair to eclectic style, she’s never been afraid to follow her own path, something C.J. has always admired. She walks straight to C.J., wrapping her in a loving embrace
“Are you okay? James told me what happened.” Alexi leaves an arm around her, and while C.J. knows it’s supposed to be comforting; all she can think about is how much she wants Alexi to leave. It’s one thing to rant to her elderly boss, someone who would love her in spite of her shortcomings and faults. But to know her own friend group has already heard about her misfortune, sending over someone to comfort and soothe, it was all just a little too pitiful for her to handle.
“Theta’s are throwing a party tonight. It’ll be the perfect pick-me-up, and you can forget all about Evans Jensen-“
“Eli Jennings” C.J. corrects.
“Whoever” Alexi rolls her eyes at the interruption, “is missing out on your incredible talent because of an idiotic professor’s incompetence. Everyone’s going and it won’t be the same without you, C.”
“As much as I would love that, Lex, I really just want to be alone tonight. Shitty beer, cheap Indian food, a sad movie so I don’t have to think about how these past four years have been a waste.”
“Not a waste, first of all. Look, I know that you’ve had this whole plan for your life since you popped out the womb, but shit happens, things change. This isn’t a failure, just think of it as a temporary setback. Plus, when life gives you lemons, you…” She trails off, waiting for C.J. to finish.
“Make lemonade?” She sighs.
“Use it to chase tequila.” Alexi giggles.
“I would go, but I have to close. Right, Bea?"
"Don't use me as an excuse. You should go, maybe find a boy to take home." Alexi makes a face at Beatrice's statement and C.J.'s face heats up.
“You’re going - no more buts. Wear something cute. Something that maybe doesn’t make if look like you were alive for Vietnam.” Alexi’s already leaving, kissing Beatrice lightly on the cheek on her way out.
This was how C.J. found herself standing outside the Theta Lambda frat house, October air chilling her through her jacket. She shifts her weight between her feet, surveying the small group around her. Alexi talks animatedly on the phone, asking for whoever to meet them out front.
A random person bumps into her, forcing her to spill the contents of her purse onto the dewey grass. C.J. groans, bending down to pick everything up while mentally thinking to herself all of the other things she could be doing right now.
A pair of dirty air forces steps in front of C.J. and she slowly looks up at the girl standing in front of her. She’s pretty, stunning actually. C.J. recognizes her immediately. Channing Williams - social chair of Rho Xi sorority and the key to all the best parties on campus. Dressed in a black romper and red velvet jacket, she’s everything C.J. isn’t and a quiet twinge of jealousy plucks her heart. ‘I bet she’s never lost out on an internship.’ she thinks bitterly.
“Sorry, do you know anyone?” Channing asks, voice soft and sweet with a clipboard in hand. C.J. looks at Alexi, waiting to hear her answer.
“Not really? I mean we know people, but we aren’t going to be on your clipboard or anything so if you could just let us slide through, I’m sure there’s someone here who could like vouch for us or something?” C.J. wants to slap her — not only did she drag her out in below-freezing weather, but she couldn’t even guarantee them a way inside.
“Well this is a greek-only party so unless you know anyone….” Channing trails off, not openly wanting to kick them out in front of so many people.
“That means no GDI’s.” C.J. didn’t even notice the miniature-sized freshman standing besides Channing. She clearly looks annoyed at the intrusion, keeping her from inside where everyone else is to deal with their little group. C.J. briefly wonders if the upturned stare is a requirement for Rho Xi or if that’s was just especially reserved for her.
“Geed’s?” Alexi repeats, raising an eyebrow.
“Goddamn independents. Y’know, not greek-affiliated.” At this point, C.J. is ready to call the whole night and retire in her bed when she see’s someone appear in between Channing.
“They’re cool, Chan. They’re with me.” Micayla Zhao enters, covered in glitter, sweat and what C.J. is almost sure to be a line of salt from a body shot. C.J. has always considered Micayla the only cool Rho Xi, having had multiple classes with her over the years. Micayla fit right in with their group: smart, beautiful and a wicked sense of humor.
Channing nods, seeming bored and just wanting to get back inside with everyone else. She does a quick finger tap with Micayla (sacred Rho Xi bullshit is what Alexi always calls it) and moving along the line.
“Are your sisters always that charming?” Micayla rolls her eyes, grabbing C.J. to move them through the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire is set up in the middle with a canopy near by for the designated drinking spot. She watches as Micayla confidently moves through the crowd, stopping from time to time to say hey to friends and classmates on the way.
“Most of the time. Look, they’re just possessive over tradition and the Rho-Theta party has always been major exclusive, Channing’s been fighting to make it open to outsiders.” Micayla yells over the thumping bass.
“Yeah, I’m sure they love all the GDI’s.” C.J. exaggerates her voice, pinching her nose to capture the nasally, valley accent Channing is almost famous for. Micayla stops, and had C.J. not been paying attention, she would’ve ran into her.
“Dude, you’re kind of being a bitch right now. Look, I get your bummed about your internship, but Channing wouldn't have let you in if she didn't want to. Would you rather be getting drunk, in your apartment alone?”
“Yeah, actually.” Micayla stares at C.J. for a second, looking like she’s about to bitch her out. As if Alexi can sense the fight forming, she grabs Micayla by the arm.
“Let’s go get a drink, you look like you need a drink in you.” They both walk towards the house, Alexi mouthing ‘Be Nice’ over her shoulder before disappearing completely. C.J. exhales, counting to 3 in her head before walking over to where drinks are set up.She fills up her solo cup, watching as the fizzy liquid moves closer and closer to the top. Before she can take a sip, someone bumps into her spilling half the drink over the side.
“Hey, watch it!” A thick Jersey accent exclaims, and C.J. groans, wondering if this night could get any worse.
“Bennett?”
Grayson appears in front of her, denim jacket over a black t-shirt and black jeans. She takes note of the dark spot growing on the front of his shirt, from where she spilt her drink.
“What’re you doing here?”
She simply shrugs, refilling the missing contents of her cup.“I didn’t know parties were your scene. I always imagined in your free time you’re in like a dark room, crying alone to Sylvia Plath novels.”
“Nice to know you think of me out of class, Grayson” C.J. takes a sip of her beer. She moves to walk away, hoping he would take it as an end of conversation.
"How'd you get in? Isn't this like Rho's only?" He asks, following her to the edge of the bonfire. She looks at him, watching as the light frames the features of his face.
"Couldn't I say the same about you? You're not a Theta." He just stares at her intensely until she relents, "Micayla Zhao got me in. Y'know her?"
"We had history together sophomore year. She helped me cheat on the midterms."
C.J. laughs shortly. "Sounds like her."
Grayson opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off.
“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Grayson, don’t you have someone else to bother? Someone who, y’know, actually likes you?” If that comment bothered him, he didn’t show it, continuing talking to her as if they haven’t pissed each other off continuously for the past four years.
“What do you think about Michael Eichler getting the internship spot?” He asks. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t get the spot, now she has to sit and rub salt in the wound with her worst enemy.
“What’s there to think about? He got it, I didn’t. Fucking sucks.” He laughs, holding up his own drink.
“Cheers to that.” They both clink cups, and C.J. briefly wonders if the universe is still laughing at her.
"You know, that spot should've gone to one of us." He muses, watching the partygoers continue to stumble around them. He doesn't say anything after that, and she bites.
"Why should it have gone to one of us?"
"Well, think about it. We're both the top of our class, and I know for a fact Stevens has submitted your writing to collegiate magazines. There's no fucking way Michael fucking Eichler should've got that spot over one of us." C.J. pauses. She had known that Stevens appreciated her writing, but not enough to submit it anywhere. If what Grayson was saying was true, why hadn't she gotten the apprenticeship?
"Nothing I can really do about it now. He got the spot, I didn't. I guess I can become a second rate author now." She takes another sip, and Grayson snorts unattractively.
"I'm sure you'll be okay, Bennett. If Stevens like you, I'm sure there's another author dumb enough to want to publish your work too." She glares at him.
"And here I thought we were becoming friends."
"As if you actually would've wanted to become friends with me."
"Oh yeah, that's what I do in between my Sylvia Plath crying sessions. Desperately wish that Grayson Dolan would become my best friend." Sarcasm drips off every word and he looks at her before taking another long sip of his drink.
“You know you’re actually kinda cool, Bennett. When you’re not trying to bite my head off in the middle of lecture”
“Maybe if you didn’t have such shitty takes, I wouldn’t want too.” Whatever retort Grayson was planning falls from his lips when Channing appears by his side, tucking herself underneath his arm.
"Hey, Gray. I got you another drink." Two Coronas hang from her manicured hand, and he whispers inaudibly to her, giggling between the two of them. C.J. begins to feel awkward, and coughs uncomfortably.
“Oh, you’re the GDI from earlier,” Channing looks up at her half-lidded, dark eyelashes framing red-tinged brown eyes.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Channing shifts her weight, biting her lip and feeling like an intruder. "I didn't know you two knew each other?" C.J. supplies, feeling desperate for conversation
"Gray and I had math together freshman year, "They both stare at each other awkwardly, silent tension as they wait for the other to speak.
“So, I’m gonna go." She speaks.
“No, you don’t have to." Channing is already turned back to Grayson, looking like she wouldn't mind C.J.'s exit.
“No it’s fine” Neither Grayson nor Channing seem to protest anymore, and C.J. turns back to see her friends looking at her, both amused and curious at her interaction with the duo. She begins to walk towards them, feet and heart sinking with every step, not feeling any better about her current predicament.
“Hey Bennett,” She turns around to face Grayson. “Think about what I said. About the internship stuff” She just nods, and leaves the pair. The moment she reaches her initial group, Alexi pulls her towards them.
“You and Dolan were just talking and it didn't end in a screaming match. That’s new. What did he want?”
“Nothing. Just typical Grayson Dolan bullshit."Alexi looks like she doesn't believe her, and frankly C.J. doesn't believe herself. She thinks back to what Grayson said, about how they were the only real competition for the apprenticeship. Whatever he meant by that could be handled tomorrow.
"C’mon. Didn’t you say something earlier today about tequila shots?” She asks
“Atta, girl. That’s what I’m talking about.” She lets Alexi drag her away, sparing one last look at Grayson before entering the fraternity house.
#grayson dolan#grayson dolan series#grayson dolan smut#grayson dolan imagine#grayson dolan blurb#grayson dolan fluff#grayson dolan angst#grayson dolan x reader#grayson dolan x y/n#dolan twins#dolan twins series#dolan twins smut#dolan twins imagine#dolan twins blurb#dolan twins fluff#dolan twins angst#dolan twins x reader#dolan twins x y/n
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Mom-Friend Looking For A Dad-Friend - Part 1
Summary: Saru x chubby!reader in which you are Sylvia Tilly’s older sister, (Y/N) Tilly. You are a therapist on the USS Discovery and the ship’s resident mom-friend. Your little sister thinks it’s about time her Starfleet parents finally hooked up. (Title is based off of my Hinge profile)
(Y/N)’s POV
You were settling into your office on the USS Discovery, situated just down the hall from the med bay. It was small but cozy and would only get cozier once you unpacked your plants and little trinkets from home. Once the doors were closed behind you, you set your box of mementos down and took a moment to take in the room. Making sure that the doors are closed, you take a moment to squeal and pump your fists in the air. It’s quite unprofessional for a lieutenant commander, but you’ve never had a whole office to yourself before.
Apparently the ship’s former captain, Gabriel Lorca, never felt the need for counselors or therapists, which you thought was horrible and inconsiderate. But when your own captain, Captain Pike, announced that he was transferring temporarily to head the Discovery, he had requested you accompany him to be the ship’s temporary counselor. He didn’t go into much detail for “security reasons,” but he felt that the crew would benefit from your services and your motherly nature.
It also helped that your baby sister was an ensign on the ship.
Your little celebratory moment was ruined by the sound of your doors opening. You froze, imagining the captain or some high-ranking commander walking in on your moment of unprofessionalism. Honestly, this was not a reflection of your normally responsible self and as you turned slowly around, you were running through in your mind exactly how you would defend yourself. Until you saw the familiar red and wild hair of your sister.
You run forward and envelop her in a hug, relishing the feel of a familiar body pressed against yours. You have been so worried for her while you were away on the Enterprise and she was off fighting a war. Not a day went by that you didn’t dread the idea of getting the message from your mother that she was gone. But now she’s here, safe and sound in your arms where you can protect her, like you always have. You were so wrapped up in fussing over your sister that you didn’t even notice the incredibly tall man watching you both fondly from the doorway until he cleared his throat.
“Oh! Oh right.” Sylvia steps to the side with her arm stretched, literally presenting the tallest and... cutest man you had ever seen. Immediately you were entranced by the ridges of his face and his eyes. Oh dear Lord those eyes.
“Commander, this is my sister, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Commander Saru. He was my sponsor to the command program and was--”
“Previously acting Captain, yes. Captain Pike filled me in.” You step forward and extend your hand to him. You try really, really hard not to shiver when his fingers engulf your palm and hold it securely. You feel so small in front of him -- which is rare for you, your past boyfriends made it a point to constantly bring up your largeness -- but your hand fits perfectly in his like two puzzle pieces finding each other. It’s as thrilling as it is frightening.
“I’m Doctor (Y/N) Tilly. It’s very nice to meet you, Commander.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, as well, Doctor.” Oh he was such a gentleman.
Saru’s POV
Saru was expecting another Sylvia Tilly, when said ensign insisted that he come meet her sister. And because he was so fond of the tenacious girl, he allowed her to all but pull him through the halls towards an office just off of the med bay.
“I just have a feeling that you two will really like each other,” she was telling him as they approached the doors. “She’s so kind and sweet. She was basically the mom I always wanted which was nice considering the mom we did have was--” As she rambled, Saru just nodded his head and mentally prepared himself to engage in some pleasantries and then a quick return to the bridge for a meeting with Captain Pike. He was honestly in a somewhat sour mood after having the captaincy stolen from him, even if he knew it was going to be temporary anyway. Hey, a Kelpien can dream.
What he was not expecting was the sight of quite literally the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But there she was, hugging her sister tightly and soundly in a very cramped office filled with boxes of plants and flowers. And when you took his hand and grinned up at him, he felt his heart soar and a tingling in his limbic system. He could stand in the glow of your smile for hours and so desperately wanted to know what a hug from you felt like. Probably like being home. He had to restrain his arm from reaching out for you after you had pulled away from the handshake. He was completely and utterly hooked on you.
Sylvia seemed to notice, because she shot him a devious grin at the sight of what he was now realizing was his own love sick smile. Really, you have to be more professional, he scolded. But you’re chatting happily away with your sister while unloading your plants, cradling each adorable pot like a mother carries her child. Alright, professionalism be damned, he knew he needed to be next to you every moment for the rest of your lives.
On Kaminar, Kelpien life expectancies were uncertain but undeniably short, which meant that when decisions about family, friends, children had to be instinctual. And while Saru knew that he was safe from that life, that he was far more secure than anyone from back home could have ever hoped for, he still felt those same instincts. He felt them for Michael and Captain Georgiou and Sylvia and now here you were, the sight of you creating a piercing, knowing feeling deep in his gut.
You struggled to hang one of your plants on the highest shelf behind your desk. Just as you were about to pull out your spinny chair and use it as a stool, Saru quickly made his way over so he could hover over you.
“May I?” He was genuinely nervous that you would say no and he’s not quite sure why. But this was important, this offering of help and for care. You gave him a toothy grin and carefully transferred the plant from your hands into his large, awaiting ones.
“Thank you, Commander. This is my String of Hearts and she likes to be up high.” Saru didn’t bat an eye at the fondness you held for the plant, rather he was quite familiar with the love you felt for them.
“It’s really no trouble. I too have quite the collection back in my quarters.”
“Really?”
“Yes, they are mostly plants from my home world, although I have collected quite a few species from visits to other planets.”
“Maybe you could show my sister some time, Commander!” Sylvia’s voice, really it’s more like a yelp, interrupts you both. You were eyeing her strangely while Saru tried his best to signal her with his widened eyes, stop, please with a hint of what are you planning. Sylvia just grinned widely and devilishly at them both.
“If, um, you don’t mind Commander, I would be happy to have lunch with you sometime to discuss our plant babies,” you offered slowly, your voice soft and hopeful. Oh, oh, he definitely wanted to have lunch with you. Was today too soon? Probably. Okay, calm down Saru, she’s not going to disappear.
Third Person POV
Four Months Later
Sylvia was just absolutely ecstatic that her plan was working. When she had started getting closer to Saru during the way, started seeing his paternal nature and his unmeasured empathy towards others, her mind had immediately thought of her darling sister. How you were just as nurturing as him and cared about everyone, how you were so caught up with loving others that you very rarely had time to meet anyone who loved you just as deeply. How the only two boyfriends you had ever had were complete assholes who took your tenderness for granted and only gave you criticism for return. How you were so hesitant to fall in love again and how she was absolutely sure that Saru was made for you and vice versa. So as soon as you stepped onto the ship, Sylvia begged and bothered Saru to come welcome you until he finally agreed. And oh is he glad he agreed.
From that day on you and Saru became practically inseparable. Saru made it his mission to be near you every second possible and you found yourself quite taken with the impossibly sweet man. Which was unusual, you had built this thick wall around your heart after your last relationship ended. But Saru just wormed his way past your guard with his gentle smiles and thoughtfulness. You would spend every meal together, talking about your plants, your favorite books and music. He had even started teaching you some basics in some of the many languages he knew. You don’t know why, but knowing about his profound knowledge of languages made you fall even harder for him.
Everyone on the ship seemed to realize that you were made for each other, too. There were bets made about when you would get together, whispers about ships through the halls. The drama over when Discovery’s mom-friend and dad-friend would make it official was a welcomed respite from the stresses of their mission to find the Red Angel.
But the turning point for you was one night when you were completely swamped with patient notes and analysis. You had just messaged Saru letting him know that you had to skip your dinner plans to finish your work. You were quite disappointed, you hadn’t missed a dinner with him in the four months of your friendship and you lived for your conversations with him. It was just so comfortable and he made you feel so heard. But tonight you were looking at a sad, late night meal in your quarters after you were exhausted from staring at PADDs all day. At least, you thought so, until your door opened mere minutes after you had messaged Saru. In walked this precious man, carrying your favorite soup and a cup of coffee on a tray, along with some tea and salad for himself.
“Just because we can’t have dinner in the cafeteria, doesn’t mean we can’t have dinner together.” He gave you a shy look as he set the tray down in front of you and took a seat on the other side of your desk. Honestly your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. He was a dream, a lovely and beautiful dream.
“Saru I... Thank you.” You set your PADD down and decided that maybe a short break couldn’t hurt.
“You are most welcome, (Y/N). I couldn’t bear the thought of you not eating a proper meal.”
“Is this potato leak soup?” Saru nodded, pleased with himself.
The two of you ate silently for a while as you continued your work. Saru was quite content in watching you. It was quiet moments like this where he would take in everything he loved about you besides your mind and wit. The soft curl of your hair, the way your eyebrows creased as you read, or the bright (e/c) of your eyes. His eyes very slowly trail down, when you aren’t flashing the occasional smile at him, to take in his other favorite part about you. Saru -- and he gets incredibly embarrassed when he thinks of you like this because he is a gentleman through and through -- just really loves your body. In a totally not creepy way, he is obsessed with how small and soft you are compared to him. He still has dreams about the first time you hugged him and the feeling of his arms around your plush waist holding you close.
“All done,” you announce with a sigh. Saru snaps his eyes from where they were lingering on your collar bone back up to you. He throws on his most innocent smile, trying to pretend he wasn’t just fantasizing about wrapping his body around your own.
“Thank you again. I’m sure this is not how you wanted to spend your evening, sitting in silence while I just work away.”
“Nonesense.” He pauses, debating his next words. “Any time spent with you is time well spent.”
You bite your tongue for a moment, wondering if you should let slip the words you so desperately wanted to bestow upon him. Would he think you’re being too forward? Would he think you were flirting with him? I mean, you did want to flirt with him, and hug him and kiss him and rub your hands down his-- woah, calm down, (Y/N), he’s right there.
“Still,” you start, deciding to take a big risk. “It was incredibly sweet of you. I’ve never had anyone bring me dinner before.” Saru beams and fills his heart swell at the praise, but his joy stalls at that one offhand comment.
“Never?” Honestly, he was curious. You had never mentioned past relationships before and he was secretly dying to know if he was even someone you would consider for a romantic relationship.
You take a deep breath, “I mean, I’ve only ever had two boyfriends in the past and neither were that... thoughtful. Well, at first they were. But over time they both ended up being a bit too self-centered, a bit too critical.”
Saru feels like his cup is about to break in his grip. How could anyone be so cruel to you, so unappreciative, so blind?
You bow your head, worried you might have divulged too much but Saru leans forward and takes one of your hands into his. His thumb rubs your knuckles and immediately your past relationships and the sad memories they dredge up vanish. As if there was no one before him, as if there was always just Saru.
“If you don’t mind me being so forward, it is their loss. (Y/N), you are a wonder, anyone who cannot see that or appreciate that is a fool and does not deserve you.” He’s staring at you incredibly intensely, his lovely eyes trying to convey all the adoration he feels for you, his desire to see you cared for as you deserve.
Your eyes shine and you don’t even think. You just stand and round your desk, engulfing Saru in a hug before he can rise to meet you or he can see the tears in your eyes. Your body folds perfectly into his as his arms wrap securely around your waist. In this position your heads are level, and he uses this opportunity to slightly nestle his head against your neck and shoulder. He hopes he’s being inconspicuous. He also hopes you’re getting the message, that he is absolutely smitten with you.
#saru#saru x reader#x chubby reader#x chubby!reader#star trek discovery#they say write the stories you want to see
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The Phone Call
A preview of what’s coming next in my Gilmore fic The Long And Winding Road, as a phone conversation between Jess and Luke. (You now know more than Rory will in the next chapter... No one knows this except Jess and Luke... and you.)
"Hello?"
"Hey, Luke."
"Jess. How's it going?"
"Oh, you know. Just fine. You still in Nantucket?"
"Yeah. Rory and Richie came with, as you probably know. But we also have a, let's say, 'surprise' visitor up here today."
"Reeeeally. Who's that?"
"Oh, none other than the great Logan Huntzberger himself, who finally deigned to see his son because he could pass it off as a polite visit to a family friend while he was 'in the area.'"
"Jeez. He still hasn't told anyone, has he?"
"Apparently not. Claims he's 'waiting for the right moment,' or some kinda bullsh**."
"Bastard."
"You're tellin' me. But why'd you call? You don't usually call this time of day."
"Yeah. Well, I, uh… I got some news today."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"So, I don't know if you remember me talking about that writer's residency program in Argentina last year?"
"Oh yeah, weren't you thinking about applying for that?"
"Yeah. I did apply for it, actually. There was a pretty long waiting list, though."
"Oh, I see. So, d'you hear something about that?"
"Yeah. Today, actually. I, uh… I got in."
"Jess, that is fantastic news! Good for you. That's a really great opportunity for you."
"Yeah. Yeah, it is. I, uh… just… I'm not sure if I wanna take it."
"What?!! Jess, you can't be serious! You've been wanting to do something like this for God knows how long! And now you've got this opportunity and you're just going to let it pass you by?"
"I don't know, it's just… I don't know if it's a good time for me to be leaving the country right now."
"What, you got something goin' on at work?"
"No... No, it's not that, it's… I don't know."
"Well? What is it? What's stopping you?"
"I just… part of me thinks that I should be here, right now. In case… you know, in case a... friend might need me."
"In case a friend might- Oh jeez. Jess. Tell me you're not talking about Rory."
Jess took a deep breath and then exhaled heavily through his nose.
"Are you serious?! Jess! You told me you were over that! Long over, if I remember it correctly."
"Yeah, well, I was over it! At least, I thought I was…"
"Oh, Jess."
"I know! I know. I'm pathetic. I swore I would never end up like you, and yet here I am."
"Hey! Things didn't turn out so bad for me in the end, you know."
"I know. You're right. I'm worse. I already had my chance with Rory, and I screwed it up so badly that she wishes our entire relationship had never happened."
"Jess, you were just a kid. I'm sure that's not true."
"Oh no? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that's exactly the way she remembers it."
"Ah jeez. She put that in that book she's writing?"
"Yup."
"And you've been reading over it, right?"
"Yup."
"Well, sh**. I'm sorry, Jess."
"Yeah, well, it is what it is, and it's my own damned fault, so I don't really have the right to be put out about it."
"Well, ok, but… that being the case, don't you think it's time to let this go?"
"Past time. But that's the worst part… I've tried. G-d, I've tried. And I thought I was mostly ok with it, you know? There's been occasional relapses of… regret or… moments when I've wished things could've turned out differently, but… I haven't been hoping for anything. I've been trying to move on. I've had relationships."
"You only went on, like, two dates with that last girl, what was her name?"
"Sylvia?"
"Yes, Sylvia! But two dates, Jess! You give up that quickly and you call that trying?"
"That's what I'm getting to, though. This year has been… different. It wasn't so bad when I only saw her for a few minutes every couple years or so, but between the wedding and the book and everything that's been going on with her lately, Rory and I have been talking all the time, and I just… I still like her more than any other woman I've ever met, Luke. And I told myself that she hasn't wanted me for over a decade now. She made her feelings abundantly clear, and I have offered myself up like an idiot over and over and over again, just on the off chance that she might have changed her mind, and she has turned me down every single time. I mean, how many times does she need to say it before I get a clue? 'No means no,' right? I'm done. I'm not doing that again. So, I guess we're friends now. She really likes me as a friend, she says, so I'll be her friend and be grateful I get to spend time with her at all. And I'm doing my best to be ok with that. So I finally asked Sylvia out, and it was nice. She's beautiful and interesting, and maybe it coulda gone somewhere… but then you had to go and tell Rory about it. And she got weird, man. She called me up, and she was comparing me to Mr. Darcy, and-"
"Am I supposed to know who the hell that is?"
"Are you serious? You've lived with Lorelai for, what, ten years now, and she hasn't tied you down and made you watch all six f***ing hours of that BBC monstrosity? Pride and Prejudice? Jane Austen? Lorelai going on and on about Colin Firth emerging from a lake in a wet shirt and breeches? Ring any bells?"
"Ah, maybe. I think I fell asleep about five minutes in."
"Of course you did. Well, all you need to know is that he's the romantic hero of the story, but he's a complete ass for like, two thirds of the book, which is obviously where the resemblance lies. So she's on a roll with that, and hey, I deserve it, but then she throws in the fact that he changes and fixes everything and the heroine can't help falling in love with him in the end. And what the hell am I supposed to do with that? Because last I knew, we were talking about me, and that would imply that… I don't know. All I know is that she got all flustered and started grilling me about my date with Sylvia, that you told her about, thanks so much, and then she starts going on about how she hopes I'll be very happy and how I deserve to be happy and I deserve to be with 'someone who has her life together.' And then she started crying and frickin' hung up on me!"
"Huh."
"Yeah! So, that whole thing kinda threw me, and all of a sudden, I'm not so sure where I stand anymore. I mean, am I crazy? Is that a normal reaction to hearing that a friend is seeing someone?"
"I don't know, Jess. It's weird, I'll give you that… but who knows, with pregnant women…"
"Well, yeah, there's that, too… But I went out with Sylvia again, because I was trying, you know? I owed it to myself and to her to give it an honest shot, but… I couldn't… I couldn't stop thinking about that phone call, Luke. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Because what if this was finally, finally a chance after all these years, and could I really just let that slip away? Could I start a relationship with someone else, knowing that I might be throwing away a shot with Rory? And I've been saying that there wasn't any chemistry with Sylvia and me, but the truth is, I know that's all on me. It was awkward because of me, because I was distracted and I was distant and I wasn't sure I wanted to be there. And Sylvia deserves better than that. It was better to end it before anybody got hurt."
"Ah, jeez, Jess."
"It's true. I'll go ahead and say it: I sabotaged my own attempt at having a happy relationship because I'm still hung up on my highschool girlfriend. And there it is. I'm such a pathetic loser."
"You're not a loser, Jess. You've come a long way. But she's got a baby now."
"I know that. And even if she has changed her mind about me, the timing is so bad... She needs me to be a friend she can depend on right now. The last thing she needs is the stress of fending off yet more unwanted advances from her crazy ex-boyfriend who can't take no for an answer. And I can't go there again, I just can't. So, I'm stuck in this no-man's-land."
"So how is all this stopping you from going to Argentina? Maybe a few months away from all this would be good for you."
"Maybe… maybe. But I just… I broke her trust before by leaving. I made a lot of mistakes, but that? That was the one she couldn't forgive me for. And I want to be there for her, I want her to know that she can count on me now, that if she needs me, I am there. But I can't do that if I'm halfway across the world. I'd be of no more use to her than Logan is, and I… God help me, I want her to think of me as someone who can give her something that he can't. And if I go, I can't do that. And I have this feeling that if I go now, that'll be it for her. The end. Three strikes, I'm out. For good this time."
"Were you planning on leaving without telling her?"
"Well, no, of course I wasn't..."
"'Cause I think that was a big part of the problem last time…"
"Yeah. I get that. But what if she doesn't see it that way?"
"Jess, all I can say is maybe you should talk to Rory about it. See how she feels about it."
"I guess I'll have to."
"For my part, I think you should go. And she won't be alone, Jess. She's got Lorelai, and me, and Lane..."
"You're right. Who'm I kidding? She doesn't need me anyway."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"Yeah, well, it's probably true anyway. But it's good to know that she's got you looking out for her. I'd need you to promise me that, if I'm gonna even consider this."
"You got it."
"Well… thanks for listening. I guess I'd better go. I'm gonna call Rory, like you said."
"I think that'd be a good idea."
"Yeah. Well, talk to you later, Uncle Luke."
"Later, kid. You… you take care of yourself, alright?"
"I always do. But thanks."
Thank you for reading. Please, PLEASE share any comments or ask any questions you’re wondering about! I crave your opinion. What do you think of this? My muse is in desperate need of encouragement so I can finish writing Chapter 9 sooner rather than later!
#Gilmore Girls#Fanfiction#Literati#seriously please talk to me#The Long and Winding Road#this is an exclusive!#It won't be in the next chapter#and I haven't posted this anywhere else!#@tinygothgoblindaydreaming#@lily-of-the-vallies#@blueforest7
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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.
chapter seven: a little death
word count: 11.1k
rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.
warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds
notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!
special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!
as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!
“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”
It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.
John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.
“Right size?” Via asked.
He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”
With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.
“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”
“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.
“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”
“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”
“Suit yourself.”
She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.
“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”
“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”
“I thought you wanted me to do something?”
Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.
“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”
It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.
“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”
She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.
He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.
“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”
John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.
“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”
Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”
“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”
She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”
John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.
It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.
The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.
“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.
“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”
Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”
She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—
( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )
“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.
“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.
“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”
“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”
“Yes. A pair, he and I.”
“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”
“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”
“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”
John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”
Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”
The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.
“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”
“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”
She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.
You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.
But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.
“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.
“Thanks, Sylvia.”
“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”
“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”
She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”
John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.
Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.
Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.
The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.
“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”
Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.
“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”
If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”
John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.
Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?
No. Not really. Not in the least.
“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”
“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.
His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?
Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”
He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”
“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.
Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”
“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”
The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”
John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”
“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”
Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”
John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?
Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”
“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”
“Well—”
“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”
John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—
It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?
“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”
“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”
He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.
Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, John.”
It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.
“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”
“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.
“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”
Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”
He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”
“There will be bombs dropping, John.”
“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”
“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”
Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.
“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”
“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”
“Joseph—”
“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”
His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”
“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”
I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.
“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”
He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.
This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.
Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.
“John.”
“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”
“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”
The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?
Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”
There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”
Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.
Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.
You’ve always been good.
“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.
“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”
“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”
“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”
Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.
John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”
The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.
A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.
Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—
“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.
“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”
“My what?”
“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”
“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”
“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.
“Elliot—”
“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”
He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.
Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”
Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”
“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”
“It was always about what you want.”
She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”
John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”
“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”
“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”
“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”
“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.
“Among other things.”
“Among other things,” he agreed.
They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.
“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”
“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”
“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”
“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”
“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”
His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.
John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.
He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.
I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.
“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”
John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.
“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”
The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.
Get Elliot and baby. Get home.
It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.
One way or another.
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Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.
The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”
How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.
It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.
Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.
So, stay put he did.
There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—
“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”
Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?
“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.
“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.
But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!
That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—
Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.
It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.
Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.
But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.
“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.
“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”
His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.
“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.
“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.
Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—
“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”
“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”
“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”
The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—
Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—
Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.
It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.
“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”
“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.
“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—
But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.
When he found out.
Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”
“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”
There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.
Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.
So. Much. Blood.
“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”
“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”
“What does—”
“Shh.”
He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.
And then, she gutted them.
Like fish.
Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.
He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”
Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.
He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.
Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—
“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”
“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”
His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.
“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”
The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.
I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—
“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”
It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.
“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.
“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”
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Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.
I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—
“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.
“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.
“Okay, and?”
“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”
John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.
“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.
Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”
He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
So, it was going to go great, then.
As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.
“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.
“No, you don’t.”
“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”
Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.
“I’m—” She stopped.
“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”
“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”
The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”
“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”
Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.
Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.
“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”
“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.
“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.
Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”
The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.
“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”
She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.
“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.
Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”
John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.
“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”
Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”
Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”
John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.
That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.
“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.
“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”
The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.
He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”
“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”
John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”
“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”
Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”
“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”
“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”
“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”
He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.
“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”
She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.
“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”
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By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?
To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.
It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.
She was ready to cut and run, if needed.
And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?
“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”
Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.
“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”
“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”
“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”
John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.
Push him away, she thought.
“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”
Push his hand off of you.
“—anyone else is going to love you—”
He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.
“—the way that I can love you.”
John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.
“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”
Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.
“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”
John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.
“We can’t.”
“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”
She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.
But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.
“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”
Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.
And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.
“Alright, good talk.”
“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.
“Goodnight, John.”
She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.
That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Staci?”
Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.
“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.
“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”
“Is he finally awake?”
The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.
No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—
“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”
The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”
“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.
To get found. To send a message.
“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”
“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.
“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”
“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”
“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”
“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”
“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”
Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.
“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”
She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.
“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”
#fic: witching hour#john seed x female deputy#my writing#ch: elliot honeysett#ch: john seed#ch: helmi#ch: sheridan stark#ch: staci pratt#i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already#far cry 5 fic#far cry 5 oc#john seed/female deputy#fc5 oc
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And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe
Alan Rubin x fem!Reader
Word count: 1,996
Fandom: Blues Brothers
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)
I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.
Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, COs having some kind of breakdown
So the next two chapters are gonna be somewhat of a bumpy ride for Charlotte. Just please stay and bear with me until the end of chapter 4, when the magic starts happening. Xx
Chapter III
The next morning Charlotte was having breakfast with her family. “I didn’t hear you coming home last night.” Her dad gave her a harsh look. “Well, yes it got pretty late. I fell asleep during the last movie and the girls felt so sorry for me they didn’t wanna wake me up!” She laughed, trying to lighten up the mood but her father just starred at her emotionless. “I’m sorry, dad. I promise it won’t happen again.”, she added in a apologising tone, which seemed to soothe him. “What films did you watch?”, her sister asked curiously. Charlotte looked at her with big eyes. What the hell? She knew her sister asked that without any ulterior motive, it was just her way but still… “You know, those classic ones. Halloween and some romcom in the end to lift everyone’s spirits.”
“Was it worth watching?” Oh for crying out loud! Thankfully the phone starting ringing, Charlotte’s mother picked it up. “Hello, Sylvia Ellington speaking.... Hun, it’s for you, it’s Lisa!” The girl quickly jumped to her feet. “May I take it in my room, please?” Her mother looked at her husband and gave her daughter a quick nod. In her room Charlotte took the phone to sit on her bed. “Lisa?” “Hiya!” “How was your evening with Lou? Did you…?” “Naah, we didn’t. But it was lovely seeing him again, I missed him so much. He’s just so shy sometimes. I mean I love that about him, I just wish he’d take the initiative more often.” “I’m sure he will eventually. It was your third date after all. Take it as a compliment that he ain’t rushing things and wants you both to be ready.” “I hope you’re right. Sooo…? You and Alan? I saw you two leave…?” “Yeah, yeah stop it right there. He took me home like a gentleman.” “BORING! Nah, I’m just kidding.” Charlotte sighed. “You know, I like him but I don’t know anything about him. Is he single or seeing anyone? Perhaps he was just trying to be friendly, taking the opportunity for a nice drink. No more, no less.” “Just ask him out on a date, pretty sure his reaction will tell.” “And what if he’s interested in a casual hook-up only? I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” “I’m afraid you won’t know if you don’t try.” “Hmm.. But I know someone who DOES know! Lou! I’m sure he knows what’s going on in Alan’s life, you always told me there were close.” “Yeah but.. I don’t know. It would feel strange asking Lou about Alan for you.” Both girls were silent for a moment. “Wait, I’ve got an idea.” Lisa said excitedly. “I’m meeting Lou in his lunch break at the cafe tomorrow noon. You could accidentally bump into us and join us.” Charlotte giggled. “Sounds perfect. I see you then!”
The next day Lisa opened the door to the small Soul Food Café on Maxwell Street and greeted the waitress with a warm smile. “Hi Mrs. Murphy!” “Hello sugar, nice to see you again.” Lisa sticked her head in the kitchen. “Hey Lou!” He looked up from the dishes and his face lighted up the moment he saw his girl. “Give me a minute, babe. Right with you.” Lisa smiled and chose a table at the window. She ordered Lou’s and her favourite dish and watched him as he left the kitchen. He quickly pulled off his hair net and gave her a kiss before sitting down. “Food’s already on it’s way.” He grabbed her hand and caressed it with his thumb. “I’m so happy to be back after our tour. I love performing with the boys but I felt sorry for leaving you so early in our relationship.” He softly brushed a strain out of her face when he got interrupted by someone banging against the window. Charlotte. She quickly walked inside. “Oh my God what are you two doing here?” “Well for starters, I work here.” “Would you like to join us, Charlie?” “Sure, why not, thanks. How are you two doing?” “Good thanks, we were about to have lunch.” The tall, handsome man said. The girls gave each other a look, without saying a word. Lou’s eyes wandered from one girl to the other and back again. “You two are terrible actors, you know that.” And he started to laugh. “Why are you here, Charlotte?” “I’m sorry, Lou. It’s because of Alan. I had a lovely time with him the other night and was wondering, is he dating anyone recently?” “Hard to tell, really. I mean with us touring in the last couple of months, it was difficult for all of us to meet anyone at all. I know that he used to see a woman named Lari. They also met a few times when we where on tour. Think she owns her own business, forcing her to travel quite a lot through the states.” “Are they… dating? I mean is it anything serious?” “I don’t even know if they still see each other.” “So nothing serious?” Charlotte kept pestering him. Lou sighed. “Listen, Alan’s one of my best mates but you should know that he’s quite popular with the ladies. Even I can see how good looking he is. Every concert he had some other woman showing up for him backstage and I can’t remember the last time he was in a serious commitment.” He could see the disappointment and sadness in Charlotte’s face and felt sorry for her. “But you’ll never know. Perhaps when the right one crosses his way.” “I heard you, Lou. but thanks for the effort to cheer me up.” She quickly got up from her seat “Really sorry for spoiling your little date.” And with that she left the cafe, Lisa running after her. “Charlie wait, please!” She finally had caught up with her. “I’m sorry Lou didn’t tell you what you’ve wanted to hear.” “It doesn’t matter okay? I don’t even know why I got my hopes up in the first place, we had a drink, that’s all.” Lisa looked at her friend with compassion in her eyes, grabbing on of Charlotte’s hands. “I guess, Alan’s been the first one who showed any interest in me for quite some time and it felt nice.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling around. “Honey I’m sure someone will come along eventually.” “Right, and as soon as the meet my dad they’ll keep running away.” “Don’t you think it’s time to move out? Sophia got her own place, too.” “I already told you, I can’t. It’s complicated. I don’t expect you to understand.” She freed herself from Lisa hand and started walking down the street. “Charlotte!” But she started to walk faster until she ran, disappearing in the crowd on the streets. Lisa went back inside the cafe and sat next to Lou, who softly put his arm around his girl. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said, I didn’t think she’d take it so hard.” She gave him a quick snog on his cheek, reassuring him that her friend would be okay, though she couldn’t stop thinking about her and how hurt she was.
Charlotte got home around dinner time and found her mother in the kitchen preparing food. “Mum?” She leaned against the worktop, resting on her elbows. “I’m thinking about moving out.” Her mother dropped the knife and looked at her concerned. “This again? Don’t let your father hear about your ideas.” “What ideas?” The two women were startled and turned their back to face Charlotte’s father, who had gotten back from work. “I still wanna get my own place, dad!” “I thought we’ve talked about this way too often, Charlotte.” “But I’m old enough, I could get a job and pay for the rent of a little room myself.” She watched him pouring a glass of whiskey and taking a sip. “Dad?!” He crashed the glass down onto the table. “This still ins’t open for discussion! As long as I’m paying for your education, you stay where I can keep an eye on you!” He said angry. “No one’s asking you to pay.”, Charlotte mumbled away and was about to leave the room. “What did you just say?” “Nothing!… Right so perhaps I don’t wanna study law.” “Don’t you forget that your mother and I had to go through a lot of trouble to get you that college place, considering your poor grades.” He walked towards her with big steps, shaking his finger at her. “Well, would have been nice if you had asked me before.” “Do you even listen to what you’re saying?! Have we left our manners at the door once more?” He was furious and discounted his glass from the kitchen table in one motion. Charlotte hated seeing him like this and it was one of those moments when she had to decide whether to retreat, displaying her fear of him or stand her ground, and for the first time ever she decided for the letter. When her father got closer, she could feel her knees began to buckle, she was trembling. Suddenly he grabbed her throat, pushing her head up and forcing her to look at him. “Once in your poor, miserable life you got the chance to do something useful with it. And we’re sticking it up your erse. Show some fuckin gratitude. If it wasn’t for you mother you wouldn’t even be standing here!” He yelled at his daughter wrathful and she felt his spit on her face. She knew what he meant by that. She knew that her father didn’t want her, when her mom, his girlfriend at that time, told him she was pregnant with his kid. “And clean up this mess! Your mother doesn’t have to do everything around here.” He added before he left hold of her and stormed out.
As it got dark Charlotte checked on her parents in the living room, both had fallen asleep in their armchairs. She left the house for a walk, which would hopefully get her mind off her toxic parents. She wasn’t living far away form Chicago city, so eventually she bought herself a beer at some street shop and set down on the pavement between two parked cars, hugging her knees. I will be stuck with them until I’ve finished college. If I finish at all. If he doesn’t care for me why doesn’t he let me go. It wasn’t the first time that night when she thought about just leaving, running away from her family.
And then she heard it. His laugh. His warm and soft giggle. She looked up but couldn’t see no one. There it was again. And then she saw him. He was walking on the other side of the road. A lady at his side, one arm tugged into him. She was absolutely gorgeous, tall, long, straight blond hair, wearing heels, a mini skirt underlining her stunning long legs and as it seemed his jacket hang over her shoulders. They both were laughing and smiling at each other. And Charlotte felt a deep, sharp pain in her heart. She was purely crushed seeing him with another woman. And before she knew it they were out of her sight, disappearing behind some cars.
She laid her head on her arms, squinting her bleary eyes. She wasn’t angry with him. But with herself. Disappointed she had left him into her heart so early, without knowing so less of him. And she felt stupid, like a teenager for getting her hopes up only because she liked him, only because he was nice to her. She felt stupid for believing a man like him could be interested in someone like her, when he could be with an actor or a model, literally anyone. And a single tear ran down her cheek before she started weeping into her arms, trying to wash away the entire day.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
#Alan Rubin x fem!Reader#Alan Rubin x Reader#blues brothers#blues brothers fanfiction#blues brothers fandom
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Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 2
pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi
genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)
word count: 4.3k
chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4
summary:
Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year? So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.
Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.
Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.
a/n: Ch. 2 is here yay!!! Also please note that Scarlet and Hazel are definitely Hoseok and Yoongi, only the reader doesn’t find out their real names in this chapter. And please don’t hesitate to give me feedback or constructive criticism whether through comments or messaging <3
tag list: @wilhelminalucinda @ghostkat23 @ayoo-bangtan
Blonde lady retracts her hand from orange hair’s arm, one eyebrow twitching in irritation.
“And who might you be?”
You’re standing in front of the boys so again, you can’t really see their faces, but you take this opportunity to speak while they’re still frozen in shock.
“I’m their owner! Who are YOU and why are you bothering my boys?” You try to sound tough but internally your mind is going haywire. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. What the FUCK am I doing??!!
“Oh really? Their ‘owner’ huh? How convenient of you to show up right now.” Uh oh. She sounds skeptical.
To your utter surprise, orange hair wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives you a quick back hug. This does nothing to help your nerves because you’re suddenly being bombarded by the delectable scent of honey and cinnamon. Jesus Christ why does he smell so good? Get it together Y/N!
“That’s right! She’s our owner. We’ve been waiting for you!”
You quickly recover from your sensory overload. If the boys are playing along, that must mean they do need your help.
“Are you now?” Blondie’s voice is venom at this point. “What are their names?”
Fuck.
“Uh…” You glance at her red nails. Damn they are even sharper up close. “His name is Scarlet,” you point your thumb backwards at orange hair. “And uh…” you glance at your latte, now cold, “and he’s Hazel!” You gesture somewhere behind you to your left, where you assume white and grey hair is standing.
Blondie’s frown deepens. She crosses her arms, temporarily sheathing her weaponous nails. Still slightly unconvinced but unable to prove otherwise, she retorts back. “Then why are your hybrids collarless? You know I could call Hybrid Services on them right here, right now!”
At this point her arctic fox has now completely given up on calming her down, opting to stand behind her owner with her head bowed down. You feel so sorry for the poor thing, having to deal with such a selfish owner. But unfortunately you have no time to dwell on that. You have to think fast. If blondie calls Hybrid Services it’s over for you and the boys because you have no proof of ownership.
“W-well why do you think we’re out shopping today?” You speak a little too fast so you take a deep breath and slow down, pretending you didn’t just think up this idea right now. “I’m planning on buying them new collars of course. Their old ones wore down so we decided to throw them away. I was with them all day today and nobody complained. The one time I leave them to go buy a cup of coffee and I come back to a lady yelling at them? Do you have nothing else to do with your life than to bother other people? How embarrassing!”
Blondie’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost disappear into her untouched roots. Her face is now comical, identical to a pop-eyed goldfish.
“I-I…” Her cheeks are now the same color as her nails. “I was only trying to find a suitable mate for my hybrid. Surely as their owner you understand that…”
“But did they say ‘yes’?!” You interrupt her, not wanting to deal with any of her bullshit. You’ve got the upper hand at this point. You cock your head to the side and put your free hand on your hip.
“No they didn’t but that’s why I was looking for their owner. It doesn’t matter what they think!” Wow what a class A bitch. You can’t believe she still thinks she has a chance.
You hear a low growl coming from white and grey behind you.
“Well I don’t work like that. I’ll never disregard the opinions of my hybrids and put them down like you do!” You’re fuming at this point, nerves completely gone. “I’m really sorry you think that way and I hope one day you see just how narrow-minded you are. But for now kindly fuck right off!” You finish by sending her one of your most vicious glares.
Game, set, and match.
Blondie blinks twice, frozen on the spot, and completely lost for words.
“Miss… let’s go.” Sylvia’s timid voice breaches the silence as she tugs on her owner’s sleeve.
Blondie quickly comes back to her senses. “Hmph!” She turns on her heel, nose in the air, and grabs her poor fox by the arm, yanking her along.
Sylvia turns her head back and manages a quick “I’m sorry” before she is marched off. You give her a reassuring smile, letting her know that she has nothing to do with this entire situation.
As soon as they are out of sight, you let out a huge breath, unaware that you were holding it for so long.
“Well that was…” You spin around, facing the hybrid boys for the first time, “Oh wow...”
Because in front of you stand two of the most gorgeous men to have ever blessed your eyes with their presence.
Now you’re speechless.
‘Scarlet’, the orange haired hybrid, is standing right in front of you with both hands on his hips and a blinding wide smile on his face. His tousled orange locks are parted, showing the full length of his chiseled face. With a sharp, upturned nose and a jawline that could cut, he looks effortlessly handsome. Now that you have time to observe him up close, you notice that he’s a red fox hybrid, which explains why blondie wanted him for poor Sylvia.
‘Hazel’, the white and grey haired hybrid, is standing slightly behind ‘Scarlet’ with his arms crossed and a sleepy look on his face. If you could describe him in one sentence, it would be ‘I know I’m fluffy but don’t fuck with me’. You have this primal urge deep down to touch his hair and squish his cheeks but somehow your instincts are telling you that if you attempted to do this he would scratch both your eyes out. He looks to be some sort of extremely long-haired cat, you’re guessing a Maine Coon, but you’re not too sure.
Faced with such beauty, you suddenly become hyper conscious of yourself. Oh shit. You’re basically barefaced, with unfilled eyebrows and chapped, coffee-stained lips. You look down and take in the bleach stain on the left knee of your sweatpants, then you notice the cocoa powder from this morning’s tiramisu on your tank top. Wow the one day I run into hot guys and I had to look like a mess express.
Your eyes travel back to the boys. ‘Scarlet’ now looks slightly concerned, his wide smile slowly disappearing.
“Are you ok? You’ve been silent for awhile now…”
You’re brought back to earth, away from your mental pity party. There’s nothing you can do about your current state of being, so why wallow?
You quickly shake the thoughts out of your head. “Sorry I zone out a lot.”
You then remember why you’re talking to the boys in the first place. “But anyways, are you guys ok?? I’m sorry to surprise you like that but I just couldn’t stand by and watch her harass you.”
‘Hazel’ speaks to you for the first time, his voice low and slightly scratchy in timbre. “We’re fine now,” then in a quieter tone, “thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help!” You offer him a small smile.
Your mind drifts to blondie again and instantly your smile turns into a frown. “I just don’t understand what her problem is! Sure there’s a collar law but it’s barely enforced this day and age!”
Hybrid laws have drastically changed in the last ten years. Although there are tons of improvements needed, since hybrids are still under the jurisdiction of their owners, small laws like the collar law are extremely lax nowadays. Think about it like jaywalking in the city. Sure it’s technically illegal but if no one gets hurt then nobody cares if you do it, unless an officer is bored and has nothing else to do.
“Well we appreciate you stepping in before she could call Hybrid Services anyway. That really saved our tails! Thank you!” You can see ‘Scarlet’ is visibly relieved to be out of that sticky situation, a smile back on his handsome face.
“Yeah no problem!” You take a sip from your cold hazelnut latte, trying to distract yourself from staring at him. He’s radiant, and if you look any longer you swear you’ll combust.
“By the way,” ‘Scarlet’ is now looking at your coffee cup, “where’d you get your coffee? We’ve been meaning to grab a drink but we’re new in town so we don’t know where to look.”
“Oh this? It’s from my favorite coffee shop! You guys should really check it out.” Your eyes light up and an idea pops into your head. “Wait, are you guys free right now?”
“Well we were just walking around the city before granny interrupted us so yeah, we’re free.” ‘Hazel’ answers nonchalantly, then shrugs. “Whats up?”
“So…” You shift your weight from one foot to another, here goes nothing. “I was thinking I could treat you guys to coffee!” You’re surprised by your sudden courage. You’ve only just met them yet these boys are affecting you so much. If Karli were here she’d say you’re whipped.
“Hmm?”
“Say what?”
Both boys respond at the same time, blinking at you, surprise evident in their tone.
“What I mean is, I’d like to officially welcome you to town!” You’re hoping you don’t sound too creepy. Now that you think about it, a complete stranger treating two hybrids they just met to coffee can seem a little off-putting. “You guys don’t have to say yes though! I just… I didn’t like how blondie treated you and I wanted to make it up to you…” You’re trailing off now. Just shut up Y/N you’re talking too much again.
“I mean it’s not your fault though…” ‘Scarlet’ scratches the back of his head.
“Ok.”
You whip your head in ‘Hazel’’s direction, his answer surprising you. Maybe it’s his body language, or just his overall demeanor, but you didn’t expect him to accept your offer.
He looks ‘Scarlet’ in the eyes. “She did save our asses, and I’ve been craving an Americano.”
‘Scarlet’ nods once. “Ok! Lead the way, miss, um…”
“Y/N. You can just call me Y/N,” you blurt out, trying to ease the awkwardness, “Uh, cool! This way.”
The boys trail behind you as you lead them past the various designer stores, heading once again back to Cozy Coffeehouse. Being the self-conscious hoe that you are, you hope the barista doesn’t recognize you returning while still holding one of their drinks. You shield your face with your free hand, drawing a snort from ‘Scarlet’ as he finds the whole ordeal hilarious.
“Back again so soon?” The barista recognizes you instantly.
Ah fuck.
“Yep.” You smile sheepishly at him. “But this time it’s not for me.” You turn to the boys behind you. “What do you guys want?”
‘Hazel’ shuffles in front of you. “An iced Americano please. No cream, no sugar.” Wow, someone likes to have fun.
‘Scarlet’ is still staring at the drinks menu, tilting his head to the side and tapping his cheek with his index finger.
You point him in the direction of their small specials menu sitting near the register.
“Have you checked out their specials yet? They change it up every season!”
“Ooooh cherry blossom latte. I’ll take one of those!” He attempts to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Oh no no no!” You tut, “It’s on me remember? I’m a working woman and I can afford two coffees. Now put that wallet away!”
After you’ve paid for the boys’ drinks you head to the corner where ‘Hazel’ has already plopped himself down onto one of the couches.
“Nice place.” He takes a sip of his Americano. “Nice coffee too.”
“Right?” You sit across from him.
‘Scarlet’ is still at the counter waiting for his drink, since the cherry blossom latte takes a notoriously long time to make.
“So what are you guys in town for?” You try to start conversation.
“Business.” He takes another sip. “But today we’re just shopping.”
“Oh ok.” He doesn’t leave you with much to respond to but you don’t blame him for being so guarded. There’s got to be a reason why they were wandering around town without a collar, much less an owner in sight, but it’s not your place to pry. You sit there in silence for a while.
“That took a long ass time but it’s so worth the wait!” ‘Scarlet’ skips back, happily slurping on his latte. “It’s so good! Try it hyung!” He shoves the drink in his buddy’s face.
‘Hazel’ leans over, taking a small sip of the latte, then proceeds to cough and sputter as ‘Scarlet’ hands him a napkin.
“Eugh what is that? It tastes like pure liquid sugar!” He coughs again into the napkin.
“Isn’t it good?” ‘Scarlet’’s tail wags happily before he sits down next to ‘Hazel’, who is now gulping his Americano, hoping to wash away the sickly sweet taste of that abomination of a latte.
You observe them quietly, their interactions making you giggle. They seem like polar opposites but somehow their personalities fit together like a puzzle.
As they settle down, ‘Scarlet’ sets his drink on the table and faces you.
“Thanks for the treat Y/N, we really appreciate it!” He always seems to have a small smile permanently etched onto his face. You realize that unlike some people who walk around with an RBF (resting bitch face), he seems to have a resting happy face. You never knew foxes to be so happy. The ones you’ve encountered at the clinic either seem to be extremely timid and introverted, or slightly arrogant and haughty. He was neither, an embodiment of pure sunshine.
“No problem!” You respond. “By the way, is ‘hyung’ your name?” you ask ‘Hazel’.
“Oh, no.” ‘Scarlet’ laughs at that. “We’re Korean, so in our language, ‘hyung’ is what we say to older males. It’s a form of respect to call them ‘brother’.”
“Oh!” You internally cringe at your ignorance. Oops. “Then what are your names, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I kinda like the names you gave us actually. You can keep calling us that.” Hazel answers, finally having gotten rid of the sugary aftertaste in his mouth. His expression is back to being unreadable.
“Mk.” Strange. They seem very open to you inviting them for coffee but they’re not keen on revealing much about themselves. You don’t push them for answers though, having no reason to garner any information out of them.
“So you said you’re a working woman. What do you do?” Like Hazel, Scarlet also seems eager to switch the topic of conversation away from them.
“Me? I work at a private hybrid clinic.” Unlike the boys, you have no secrets to keep, and you hope to build trust by being honest and open about yourself.
“That’s really cool! Are you a hybrid doctor?” He leans in slightly, giving you his full attention.
“Oh no.” you laugh, a little embarrassed about your shitty job. “I’m just the receptionist, so I get the wonderful pleasure of dealing with people like blondie every day. “ You roll your eyes, emphasizing just how much you can’t stand some of those self-entitled owners.
The boys seem genuinely interested about you and your career, with Scarlet finding ways to prompt you into speaking more about yourself. Hazel mostly sits back and listens, occasionally jutting in with one-liners. Before you know it, you’ve basically told them your whole life story.
You don’t consider yourself a private person, but you’ve never been so vulnerable to strangers before. You find it odd how comfortable you are around them, the only challenge being how hard it is to maintain eye contact, still finding them both ridiculously attractive.
They continue to sit with you, listening to you prattle on and on. Your conversation shifts to the topic of hybrid rights, which to no surprise, you find them equally as passionate about as you do. Scarlet is a very animated speaker, using tons of hand gestures and bouncing up and down on the couch, rattling poor Hazel, who’s just trying to finish the last of his Americano in peace. You discuss how the last decade has seen a drastic improvement in hybrid laws but you both agree that more has to be done. At one point Scarlet gets so excited he stands up, proceeding to then sit back down straight onto Hazel’s unsuspecting tail. A sharp MREOOW is heard, with the cat snatching his crooked tail away from the excited fox and placing it onto his own lap, where he can smooth the ruffled fur.
“Oops, sorry hyung.”
You’re laughing so hard there’s tears in your eyes. How can they be so hot but so goofy at the same time? The duality really popped out.
It’s only until you notice the sun setting through the window in the corner of your eyes do you finally realize just how long you’ve been sitting here, chatting with the boys. You could’ve sworn you’ve only been here for 20 minutes or so, but it’s actually been a couple hours??
The boys seem to notice the time just as you do.
“Wow I was having so much fun I lost track of time!” Scarlet exclaims as he checks the clock on his phone. “We really have to get back and pack.” He looks at you and sighs. “This is our last day here and we’ve got an early flight to catch tomorrow.”
Your heart sinks just a little, having gotten so attached to them in just a short amount of time, but you make sure to plaster on a smile.
“That’s ok. Thank you for spending the day with me! I’ve had a blast!” You’re especially sincere, glad you got to spend the day with some company instead of wandering around on your own.
As they are both standing up to leave, Hazel stares at you for a moment, face devoid of expression, drawing a small blush from your cheeks with how intense his gaze is. He seems to come to a decision because he leans into Scarlet’s ear and whispers something that you can’t make out. The fox’s eyes shoot up for a second, then he quickly nods.
“Um, Y/N?” Scarlet gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes, soft orange ears tilting down anxiously. “I know we’re leaving tomorrow but can we have your number? We’d love to have a friend in this city!”
How can you say no to that face??
“Of course!” Your heart is beating a mile a minute, excited at having an opportunity to keep in touch with your new friends. You whip out your phone and give them your digits.
“Thank you again Y/N! We’ll be back. Promise!” Scarlet gives you one last blinding smile, waving his hand before turning to head out the door.
“Bye Y/N.” A small, sleepy smile also forms on Hazel’s face before he too, turns around and shuffles behind his companion.
You wave as you watch them exit the cafe, deciding that it’s also time for you to head home.
You barely remember the drive back, with the two hybrids occupying 99% of your thoughts. You park your car in your designated parking spot (the extra $50 per month well worth not having to find street parking every night in your shady neighborhood) and make your way up the stairs of your small complex. When you stand in front of the door to your apartment, you notice some light shining from the crack underneath, signifying that your roommate is back.
“Ayah! You’re home!” You call out to her the moment you shut the door behind you.
Your roommate Ayah is in the kitchen, music playing on her small portable speaker as she stirs some sort of sauce in a pot.
“Y/N hi! I made spaghetti so I hope you’re hungry!” She turns and faces you with a big grin, ladle in hand and an apron that says “Kiss the Cook” tied around her waist.
“Yum! You know I can’t turn down anything you make.” You’re glad she’s back, having been gone this time for over a week. You were getting awfully lonely at home.
As soon as she’s done cooking, you both settle down on the small dining table and dig into the pasta, catching up on what you’ve both been up to. You know Ayah works for the medical industry and has to travel a lot for her job but that’s about it. Her career is a little too complicated for a simpleton like you to understand. She’s aware of this so instead she just fills you in on where she’s been the past week.
“They sent me to the middle of nowhere this week I swear Y/N! It was miserable.” She lets out a long sigh. “But at least that’s over for now. Too bad I have to leave again on Monday.”
“Aww, so soon?” You pout. See? This is why you two never have a chance to get closer. Oh well, at least you’ll make the most out of your time together now.
“But, there’s a huge convention coming up so you know what that means?”
“What?”
“Vegas baby!!”
“Nice!” You almost spew out sauce trying to reply to her, which is kinda gross you admit. But you can’t help wolfing down your food since all you’ve had today was coffee and tiramisu. She hands you a paper towel and you gladly accept, wiping the marinara off your cheek.
As you’re finishing your pasta, Ayah’s tone becomes a little more serious.
“Hey Y/N. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the lease.” She starts to gather the empty plates, rinsing them then putting them in the dishwasher. Before you get the chance to voice your confusion at where this conversation is going, she continues.
“So you know how this year’s lease is ending in like four months right?”
“Mhm” you hum, now guzzling a glass of water to wash down the food.
“And I love having you as a roommate and stuff so it’s got nothing to do with you but…” She pauses for a moment, contemplating how to form the correct words. “Recently I’ve just been promoted.”
“That’s awesome I’m so happy for you!” And you genuinely are. But it does sting a little, knowing the people around you are doing so well in life and you’re still stuck in a job you don’t really enjoy.
She sits back down at the table. “Well, I’ve been thinking and, now that I’m going to get paid more, I kinda want to have a place of my own.” She looks a little nervous breaking the news to you. “And please know that this has nothing to do with you as a roommate, it’s just that I’m getting older now and I want to start living independently.”
Honestly? You sort of had a feeling this was coming. Ayah is pretty successful and it’s a miracle she’s decided to live with a roommate till now. She’s being perfectly reasonable, giving you a sufficient amount of time to decide on your future living conditions. It still hurts though, not gonna lie.
“It’s ok. I understand, I really do.” You reassure her. “Thanks for telling me this now so I have time to work out what to do.” Your voice is a lot quieter now that reality has kicked in.
“And I promise to either help you find a new roommate or a new place to live. I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” She determines.
“Thanks girl, I appreciate it.” You try to smile at her but it comes off a little weak.
Later on in the evening, after you’ve cleaned up and lied down on your bed, you let your thoughts roam free.
What a day, Y/N.
You can’t believe so much has happened in the span of around 12 hours. Although Ayah’s news about moving out when the lease ends did hurt a little, it was not surprising, and you find yourself thinking again about the two very beautiful hybrid men you ran into today. You come to a conclusion. Even though today didn’t end on a very happy note, you still believe that it was an overall very good day. And you even made two new friends!
Right on cue, your phone vibrates near your pillow. You grab it and check that an unknown number has texted you in a group chat.
You swipe to open the message.
Unknown: Hey Y/N it’s your favorite fox Scarlet!!! (this is followed by a string of emojis) Anyways we want to thank you again for today, we had so much fun!! (more emojis)
You: Hi Scarlet! :) I had fun too!
Scarlet: Also doesn’t this remind you of Hazel??
He sends a picture of a very fluffy but grumpy looking cat with the caption “Why am I here when I can be sleeping??”
You laugh out loud, trying to muffle the sound with your pillow.
You: LMAO im dEAD
Unknown: Hey shut up fox that does NOT look like me. Now let me sleep
Ah so that must be Hazel, ever the happy kitty.
Scarlet: It’s not even that late tho?! You sleep too much cat
Hazel: And what about it? Also hi Y/N please tell the fox to let us sleep, we have a flight to catch tmrw
You: Hi Hazel! And sorry for blowing up your phone sleepyhead
Scarlet: Ok ok fine! Night Y/N we’ll talk to you soon!!! (another shit ton of emojis)
You: Night boys have a safe flight tmrw!
You lie back down with a big smile on your face. That definitely improved your mood. You snuggle up under your blanket.
Right before you drift off to sleep, you remember that you forgot the one chore you promised to do today, which was to go grocery shopping.
FUck.
Oh well, you’ll do that tomorrow.
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#bts fic#bts hybrid au#hoseok fanfic#yoongi fanfic#bts smut#bts fluff#bts fanfction#hybrid hoseok#hybrid yoongi#bts hybrid fic
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Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 8
-Chapter 8- Sylvia's POV: You need to pull yourself together I thought to myself as I was leaving my cover. "We meet again" I screamed at Abigor. He glanced at me and I could feel he was smiling. "Hahaha, the small girl survived... I still remember the splendid taste of your brother little vamp" Abigor replied. That broke something in me... Vengeance was calling my name. I started rushing towards the knight, he still had Aiden on his grasp and it was time to free him. I summoned my Twin Sickles and I started stabbing him. The attacks did nothing and I could see Aiden turning purple. I dashed back and I started rushing again. I jumped on some tables, I grasped my sickles tightly, I stretched the chain and I lept on Abigor. I tied the chain on his neck and I started hanging from him. He started sidestepping and I heard him choke, that's when I knew I needed to apply even more pressure. He threw Aiden on a wall, he grabbed my chains and he started gasping for air.
Aiden's POV: I started gasping and gasping trying to catch my breath. This fucker actually came close I thought to myself. I saw Sylvia hanging from him with her chains tied around his throat. "Oh so you finally decided to join the fun?" I sassed while getting up from the rubble. "Oh shit" I whispered. Abigor managed to free himself and he grabbed Sylvia pushing her to a wall. I picked up my gun and I started shooting him. The bullets were affecting him but he wouldn't stop. He kept hitting her while she was down. "You have no magic to help you this time little vamp" he growled. I kept shooting and shooting and after two magazines he screamed in pain. "Erebus...Drag your hand across its blade and let it cut you" Sylvia managed to say while Abigor started to push through the pain. I removed my gauntlet and I followed the instructions cutting myself. As the blood was touching the sword when I was dragging my hand, the blade started changing. It grew wider and somehow purple, it was shining and whatever was inside the blade it was moving around.
While the blade was getting transformed I started losing my armor and my wings, I was now a simple human with simple clothes holding a big shining purple sword. What the hell I thought to myself. I know I need to work fast. I rushed towards Abigor significantly slower than before and this time the sword was actually doing damage, it was really scratching his armor and it left an aftermath of energy after every attack. Red smoke was coming out of every scratch. He was in terrible pain... His screams would shake the ground but he would still not let her go. "You know what...You have taken a toll on all of us...I am ending you" I growled. He started laughing as I was letting the energy from the sword travel through me. I closed my eyes and I took a deep breath as I was trying to contain the energy. One breath, one movement, one moment and this torment would stop. I breathed out and a purple ray flew from the edge of the sword hitting Abigor on his chest. The blast left a hole on his body and red smoke was flowing out of it, he finally fell down helpess. I helped Sylvia up and we slowly approached him. I held the sword on top of his neck. "Sylvia, grab the handle along with me... It's closure for you too" I said to her and if she hadn't been through hell she would smile. "Any last words?" I asked Abigor. "Curse you, your children too. And their children, forever true." he answered as he was chocking. That made me smile. "So...Shall we?" I said to Sylvia. "May God have mercy upon your soul because I won't." I sighed and we pushed the blade through his neck. And with that, complete silence. He stopped moving and what was once the club was now a building in ruins. "Bastard" Sylvia said and she spit on him. "That's a great time for a drink" I said with joy and I headed to the few bottles that weren't destroyed with Sylvia right behind me. I jumped behind the bar. "Pick your poison love" I said. We agreed on a bottle of red wine and we were ready to start drinking. "You know what, it's the perfect time for a toast." I exclaimed. "To putting an end to unfinished bussines." she said raising her glass. "To lady death and may she be on our side on the approaching fights." I continued and our glasses met. "Are you old enough to drink?" she asked. "We killed an executioner that had returned from the dead...Do you want to see my ID or does that cover you?" I sassed. She started laughing. "Calm down boy..let me jest" she answered and she kept laughing. "Anyways, with your club destroyed what are you going to do?" I asked. "Well, good question actually...I've always wanted to move to another country for a fresh start and I don't think I'm getting a better chance... I can't help but see hope throughout this mayhem and well, a fresh start is all I need...I hope. What about you?" she said. "Hm, now that I'm powered up again I need to find Circe though there's a talk I need to have with Lydia." I continued. "How so?" she asked. "Well, you see she doesn't have powers and she came all the way here in the middle of the night while we were fighting...She could've been killed, I told her to stay away from me" and as I was saying that a slap hit me. "She came here to help you, you fool and you're going to hold it against her? You know, you might know how to fight but you really need to learn to understand people more..." she said with anger in her voice. "So what do you think I should do?" I asked. "You should figure it out yourself" she said and she took a sip, "Also about Erebus" she continued. "Oh yeah what's up with that... My armor went away while I transformed it" I said. "Well that's the thing... The hunger this blade has while transformed is insatiable, it draws energy from whenever it can and your armor is a great source, you should remember though... Don't hold it in this form for more than a few minutes after your armor has gone away, it starts eating life force and that's not ideal." she continued. "Alright then, I'll have it in mind" I replied. We talked for a bit more, about her story and about mine too, the bottle had reached its bottom. She placed the glass on the table, she got up, she took a sealed one and she started walking away. "It's time to say goodbye Aiden and about Circe you should try searching in abandoned churches, those places are rotten grounds, perfect for Harbingers...Give her my regards." she sighed. "Bye then, I'll take your words to heart and I hope we meet again." I said with a smile. "You shouldn't hope." she said and she closed the door behind her. Time to head out I thought to myself so I grabbed a bottle of wine and I returned to the hideout..It was morning by now and people have started gathering around the ruins of the club. It took me some time but I reached the hideout and that pun in the entrance always makes me laugh. I jumped on the couch and I fell asleep almost instantly.... I hadn't slept that good in ages. I woke up and I checked my phone. A text from Lydia saying hello sent 10 hours ago....God how long have I been sleeping. "Hi there" I answered and she instantly started typing.
Hello Hi there What's up MY GOD YOU'RE ALIVE You're not getting rid of me that easily ...... Look we need to talk Okaaay, feel free to say what you want Not here... I mean talk in person What's going on? Look, can you be at the garden behind the hotel at 12? Like... Midnight? Yes Alright... I'll be there
And so time came to pass... I dressed up and I headed to the garden. The place was beautiful. Bushes with unique colours all around... A fountain in the middle frozen from the cold with patches of icebound flowers surrounding it, benches placed under old lamps and snowflakes longing to hug the frigid landscape. I saw her and I approached her, we nodded and we both started looking at the frozen fountain. "Look" I told her, "I know I haven't been the most supportive friend. I've been so caught up with the -whatever the fuck this shit is- and I never took a moment to think that I didn't act the way I should have". She raised her eyebrow. "No matter how difficult this thing is, I should have considered how nerve racking must be seeing a friend you've known all these years put himself on the grasp of death..." I continued. "Could you please tell me what you did that you think was wrong?" she asked. "Well, for starters, when I talked to you about this situation you wanted to help and I did my best to stop you from that, even if I wanted to protect you I should have been a bit more careful. Next when I lost my bluetooth I didn't even try to contact you another way which led you to coming to help me.. I should have escorted you out of harms way that very moment but instead I screamed at you and I returned to the shitshow... Lastly, I should have contacted you the moment I was safe..." I replied. "Hm" she said, "Do you know why I called you here?". "No" I replied. "Look, I do want to apologise myself... I felt like a burden coming on the club, I shouldn't be something else you have to have your mind on". "Wait" I said interrupting her, "I never got to tell you that but thank you... You weren't a burden... on the contrary, I don't know how that fight would have ended if you hadn't stepped in at that moment". "Nevertheless, we had a deal and I broke it... The moment that I saw those pieces of rubble fly towards us I knew that I shouldn't have been there and the fact that I made you endure the hit really made me feel bad" she continued. "Please don't do this... You were the best support I could have asked for" I said. "This world isn't for me and I can't pretend that I am able to withstand the anxiety that comes with it... I don't know if I can help you anymore and that includes comms... It's hard for me to say that you know" she sighed. "I understand... The moment I saw him approaching you... I've never felt so much concern and so much hate, not towards him... Towards me for dragging you into all...that" I said. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and thank you.... You were a big help and I'd feel happy to have you on the comms if you're up to it..." I said with a small smile. "There's another thing... The trip ends in a couple of days and you'll be alone here which will make the situation even worse. I'm asking you... Leave this behind and come home with the rest of us" she continued. "I can't do that... I would love to return to how things were but now that's something I'm unable to do... My plan now is saving Circe, returning home and finding a way to get these stuff off of me" I sighed. "That sounds fair" she said, "So, all good?". "It seems like it..." I replied, "We still have a night to spare, what are you in the mood for?". "Okay, I have a great idea. We head to this great 24/7 diner, get a bite, a drink and then walk in the old city" she said excited. "You know what... I dig that, let's not waste a moment!" I replied. And so we begun. We headed to the diner and we bought some snacks and hot chocolate . We started walking around talking laughing and just enjoying this part of the city. The cold was stinging a bit but nothing we couldn't handle, I didn't really mind because it was just what was needed for the scenery to look like that. Roofs covered in snow all around, tall trees almost crystallised by the cold and snowflakes dancing in the breeze. The time was passing fast and after walking around for hours we concluded that we should return. We were moving in an alley to save time and we saw a person emerge from its end. I have a bad feeling I thought to myself, I looked behind us and I noticed someone was on our tail. "Give me your gloves" I said with a low voice and that's exactly what she did. I summoned my gauntlets and I covered them with the gloves. We had almost reached the end of the street but the man was still blocking, he now had his hand inside his jacket... We were getting closer and closer. "Look what we have here" the man said while drawing a knife , "such a great night to do a good deed and help my poor soul". We tried to step back but a woman was in the way with a knife on her hand as well . "I don't think they are really into charity love" she said to who I presume was her boyfriend. "Here's the thing kids, if you give us your stuff we'll let you go, it would be terrible to stain this street with blood wouldn't it" the man said to us, "I like your pink gloves dude, really... Manly" he continued and the couple started chucking. "Oh you have no idea" I said under my breath. "Don't" Lydia told me. "We don't have all night, start with your wallets" said the woman. "You heard the lady, now hurry... It would be a pity for something bad to happen to your lady friend... You get me dude, man to man, you know how that is, she looks like fun" the man said and I felt my heart pumping. "You done fucked up" said Lydia. "Stop talking girl" said the man while putting the knife closer to her throat. I grabbed the hand and I smashed his elbow, a loud crack echoed in the alley, the man fell down and he started screaming in pain and in disbelief. "You little shit!" screamed the woman and she tried to stab me but I blocked the knife with my gauntlets. "What the fuck" she muttered and I grabbed her head with my arm, I smiled and I smashed it on the wall letting her drop down unconscious. His screams were still going and I saw Lydia kicking him in the guts. "His stupid voice enrages me" I said to her and I approached him. "Nah I got it" she said, she took a few steps back and she kicked him in the head knocking him out. "Ouch, that's gonna hurt like a bitch when he wakes up" I chuckled. "Thank you... Exactly what I was going for" she replied and she started laughing. "I hope you won't kick me too but I may have stained your gloves with a tiny bit of blood" I said. "Nah they make them look less childish... You know, the blood really brings out a murderous intent the normal pink just can't" she replied smiling. "Cool point of view... Does that mean I should stain your pyjamas too?" I said with a grin. "Sheesh, I'm trying to make a joke here and you take it as a chance to hit more people" she laughed. "On my defense I read on a fashion magazine that scarlet red is gonna be worn a lot this year" I continued. "Admitting you're reading fashion magazines isn't a great defense per say but you do you" she replied with a laugh. "We should probably call the police shouldn't we?" I said and she pulled out her phone. "Already on it" she Said. She left an anonymous tip and we continued our wall back. Some time passed and we finally managed to reach the hotel. I followed her to the lobby "So I guess this is goodnight" I said. "Oh, you're not going to your room?" she asked. "We shouldn't give miss old hag the chance to ask questions should we" I replied. "Fair" she said, "That was fun... You know, up until the mugging part". "Attempted mugging you mean... But yeah, it was fun" I said. "The trip days are running out" she continued, "we should do something tomorrow". "I would love to but I have a lead for Circe that I need to follow... Can't wait for when I get back so we can hang out more" I said. "Likewise" she said and she yawned, "I guess it's goodnight then". "I guess it is" I replied with a smile, "Goodnight". "Night" she answered and she started going up the stairs. Time to go back to the hideout and be all alone I thought to myself and I sighed. I walked out of the hotel and the sun was rising.
#fantasy#darkfantasy#supernatural#dark#fiction#book#writing#writer#author#books#dark fantasy#dark fic
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Love Reflected In Moonlight
@syllusion
Salvador smiles to himself as he slowly leads Sylvia to the place he spent so many days preparing for this night. A full moon was the perfect time to show everything he was able to accomplish. Sal had taken risks for this to happen, even putting his life in danger once for the sake of getting the right material. In the past Sal would never do such things, but this showed how much he had changed. Sylvia brought out something in Salvador. And Salvador wanted more than anything to show Sylvia how much he was grateful to her.
There had been one time where the Sneasel had proposed a marriage of sorts to Sylvia as a means of solidifying their love forever. But, such a ceremony was far too human for the two of them. No, Salvador instead thought it better that he do something that required a personal touch. Something that existed for only Salvador and Sylvia to share. It wouldn't be marriage, it would be something that was theirs alone. An event that was simply a show of thanks. Upon a night where the moon was full, the only light in the darkness. The same kind of night where Salvador fell in love with Sylvia. The very precise moment!
“Syl, I know not how long it has been since we first met. Humans keep track of such things, but to pokemon time doesn’t matter so much. What matters is that we met, we lived together, then we fell in love. If this were a storybook the story would simply end there, but real life isn’t like that. For so long I dreamed of being able to love another pokemon like this. I had many dreams, yet none ever came true until the night where I fell in love with you. Do you remember?”
Sal had spoken less and less of the past as of late. There were times where he still had nightmares, but thanks to sharing dreams with Syl they were able to fight them off together. Salvador was putting the past behind him, he was embracing the future with Sylvia by his side. The night which used to be a source of terror, was now something Salvador looked forward to. For he was with his beloved, and she was with him. Even in slumber they were together.
“Don’t take that to mean you can open your eyes yet, I’m building everything up. I know you don’t like such things, but please forgive me for my ways. I wanted this to be special and this was the only way I could think of doing that. I wanted to thank you Sylvia, for everything you’ve done for me. I would never have become the mon I am now if not for you. So, with that in mind...”
Salvador used his free claw to press something. Then, music began to play.
Song
It was a music box, Sal had wanted there to be music to accompany this. As the music played Sal took the Zoroark to a stump where the important items had been placed. Sal picked one of the items up, then gently lifted Syl’s claw up. The Sneasel put the item around Syl’s wrist. Salvador then reached out to the other claw then did the same to that wrist. The items felt very light, yet fit around Syl’s wrists like they made for the purpose of doing so. Sal had measured everything out secretly, ensuring the items were perfect.
“You can open your eyes now!”
Moonstone Bracelets
When Sylvia opened her eyes, she would see the bracelets upon her wrists. They were beautiful, but as well as that the surroundings looked pretty too. There was a line of red flowers planted into the ground around the stump. They formed a heart shape around the two of them with the moon shining from above. The flowers seemed to be the thing that took the longest to get right. As Sal wasn’t that great of a gardener, still he’d done a good job here.
“Ta da! Haha...hope you like them...and the other things...”
Sal had thought he’d have more to say, but at this moment he was blushing. Sal got more embarrassed when showing off his work then leading up to it.
How would Syl react? Sal was looking worried now. Only time would tell.
#popgoesthesneaselreturns#syllusion#romance#Breaking The Ice (Sal and Syl)#Love Reflected In Moonlight
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Get Back//Darry x Reader//Modern AU
Prompt: After y/n and her boyfriend, Darry, take a break, Darry tries to win her back with advice from his brothers and friends.
A/N: I randomly had an idea to write this and thought it was really cute! It’s been awhile since I’ve written, so bare with me! I hope y’all enjoy!!
T/W: A little bit of yelling and a little bit of swearing, but for the most part, it’s pretty darn fluffy!!
Y/n lays awake staring at the ceiling, waiting for her boyfriend to come home. She’s been thinking of ways to surprise him, and after months of planning, she decided that he would probably prefer just a simple night in. She made him and his brothers some dinner, cleaned the house with some help from their friends, and planned on watching TV with him in the living room and staying the night. But the dinner soon got cold, the dishes piled up, and y/n got tired of waiting in the living room, so she waited in his bedroom instead.
It’s safe to say that they have been distant recently with y/n’s new job and the extra hours that Darry took on at work so that he could make rent this month. It wasn’t anyone’s fault--they both knew that--but the distance was definitely taking a toll on their relationship. Sometimes, she would come over after work to see him but he wouldn’t be home, and sometimes, he would stop by her place but she wouldn’t be home. They’d call each other when they would get the chance, but one of them would either be at work or falling asleep on the other end of the phone due to the exhaustion of working all day. They hated to admit it, but they were beginning to have doubts about being in a relationship. They loved each other, but maybe the timing just was not right.
Just as y/n’s eyes begin to grow heavy, Darry opens his bedroom door, slightly jumping at the sight of his beautiful girlfriend in his bed. “Hi, baby,” y/n chirps, sitting up with a smile. “Hi, y/n,” he smiles briefly, walking over to her and pecking her on the lips. As Darry goes into his dresser to change into some sweats and a tank top, y/n gets up and wraps her arms around his torso, kissing him on his neck. He tenses up and removes her arms from him before turning to face her. “I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day, and I just wanna sleep,” he states curtly, turning back around to close the drawer. Trying to make the best of the situation, y/n smiles and wonders, “I take it you’ve had a rough day?” “Mhm,” Darry mumbles, kicking off his worn out boots. Y/n eyes her boyfriend and carefully thinks of what to say, but she knows that when he’s had a rough day, he couldn’t care less for small talk.
With her feelings somewhat hurt, y/n finally asks the question she’s been dreading, “Are we okay?” Darry sighs deeply, softening his sore muscles and allowing his arms to hang at his sides, his clean clothes still in hand. He slowly turns to face her and looks down at the floor as he quietly confesses, “I don’t know, babe.” Tears well up in y/n’s eyes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting him to answer so unsure. She sniffles, and quickly wipes away tears that now flow, smearing her once perfectly done makeup. “Well, alright then, I think I’m just gonna head home,” y/n murmurs before leaving Darry’s room. He stands up to follow her, but lets her go. It’s better this way.
-a month later-
The Curtis house was in its worst shape yet, and that was saying a lot. Even after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis passed away, Darry made sure to keep up with house maintenance, but his break up with y/n messed up any sense of a schedule that he once had. His brothers try to help as best as they can, but Sodapop and Ponyboy forget what needs to get done without their older brother there to remind them.
After a long, hot day of work, Darry comes home to his brothers and their group of friends in the living room watching TV. Darry immediately tenses up at the sight of the unkempt kitchen with dishes piled up to the ceiling, spills on the counter tops, and the garbage can filled to the brim. “Pony, why isn’t the trash out?! And Soda, why aren’t the dishes done?!” Darry scolds, causing the group to jump at the sudden break from their television trance. “We forgot, Darry. Don’t worry, we’ll do it now,” Soda explains calmly as Darry storms into his room to avoid yelling more at his brothers.
Soda and Pony begin their chores almost immediately, not wanting to upset Darry any further. “Shoot, what’s up with him? He still hung up on y/n?” Two-Bit asks before taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah...” Ponyboy trails off as he walks by Two to take the trash out. “That’s why I avoid serious relationships,” Dallas scoffs bitterly. “I’m guessing you and Sylvia are still broken up?” Steve smirks, earning a cold glare from Dal’s ice blue eyes. “It’s a shame. They were perfect together,” Johnny speaks up, fiddling with the frayed edges of his denim jacket. As Pony walks back inside, he sneers, “Darry was nicer when he was with y/n...now he’s just like he was when Mom and Dad died; cold and bitter.” Sodapop, still unfinished with the dishes, takes a seat on the edge of the couch and says, “Wish there was a way to get them back together, but Darry never wants to talk about it.” Darry, who has been listening from the hallway, enters the living room with a defeated expression and admits, “I’m open to ideas...I miss her.”
Sodapop is the first to speak up, “You’ve gotta do something romantic, like bring her flowers and take her out somewhere real nice.” Darry walks over to his father’s chair and sits down, listening intently to the advice. “That’s too boring. He needs to surprise her, like in that one movie where the guy holds the stereo playing their favorite song,” Two-Bit suggests, his eyes still focused on the TV screen. “Why don’t you throw rocks at her window or something like that?” Dallas says as he feels around in his pockets for his carton of cigarettes. “You should also work on an apology - a real good one. You don’t wanna show up to her place with nothing good to say,” Johnny adds, knowing exactly what it’s like to get tongue-tied at the worst possible time. “You could invite her to the drive-in. They’re playing that one movie she really likes,” Ponyboy proposes. “Do y’all think this is all gonna be enough? What if she still doesn’t wanna get back together?” Darry worries, running a hand through his greased hair. “If she says no, we don’t want anything to do with her anymore,” Steve laughs, getting up to go to the kitchen. As the boys chuckle softly, Soda gives a comforting smile to Darry. This has to work.
-later that night-
As y/n tidies up the small kitchen in her apartment, she hears music coming from outside. Y/n recognizes the song, and stops scrubbing the counter tops for a moment. This was her and Darry’s song. It was the song that they had their first kiss to, the song that they would sing their hearts out to when they would drive together, and the song that they would dance to at midnight in the living room when everyone else was asleep. Y/n smiles as she reminisces, swaying her hips to the beat of the music. While washing her dishes, her window shatters, causing her to stop what she’s doing and grab a kitchen knife in case she would need to defend herself. “Damn it, Darry! I said a small pebble, not a fucking rock!” Dallas shouts, causing y/n to sigh loudly, setting the knife back down. “I didn’t mean to throw it that hard! I’ve told her plenty of times before that she needs to replace her windows, but she never listened!” Darry defends himself. She throws on a pair of shoes to avoid stepping on the glass, and stands at the window to look down at the group of greasers. Two-Bit stands beside Darry with a small radio at its highest volume, playing Darry and hers song. Darry holds a bouquet of yellow and pink flowers while Dallas walks back to Darry’s parked car where the rest of the boys watch anxiously from inside the coop and on the truck bed.
“What the hell are y’all doing?! And why the hell is my window shattered?!” y/n shouts. “Well, the window part was an accident, but that’s not why I’m here!” Darry begins as y/n stares with her arms crossed over her chest. Darry reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out note cards with his apology written out on them. Before he gets the chance to say anything, y/n’s neighbor’s window opens. An older man, about 70 years old, leans out and stares coldly at y/n before hissing, “Would you quiet down? Some of us are trying to get some sleep!” His window slams shut before y/n gets a chance to apologize. She storms out of her apartment and stomps down the old steps of her apartment building.
As she steps outside, the cool autumn breeze greets her, causing her to cross her arms over her chest to keep warm. Darry and the rest of the gang greet her with hopeful smiles, but she most certainly does not share the same feelings at the moment. She keeps a distance between herself and Darry, keeping a stern expression before demanding, “Do you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” Even with her stubborn expression and closed-off body language, Darry can’t help but smile dumbly at her fuming beauty. “I came to apologize,” Darry begins, completely ignoring his note cards that were carefully written out, with the help of Soda and Johnny, and placed in his jacket pocket before coming over to y/n’s apartment building.
“I was a jerk and should’ve given you more attention when we were together. And, I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you when you were only trying to make things better. I really love you, but I know that I’m sometimes not the best at showing it. I want to be better and want to be with you, but I understand if you still need time...I’m really sorry, y/n,” Darry continues, causing y/n to drop her arms at her sides as a small start of a smile pulls the corner of her lips.
“Oh, and these are for you,” Darry says sweetly, handing the bouquet to y/n. She gladly takes the bouquet before wrapping her arms around Darry. Happily surprised, Darry holds y/n close to him before pulling back to kiss her gently. The boys cheer from the truck, causing Darry and y/n to share a laugh. As y/n rests her arms loosely around Darry’s waist, she sighs, “So how are we going to fix my window?” Darry throws his head back with a laugh before placing another kiss on y/n’s lips, remembering the taste and feeling of being in love.
#the outsiders#darry curtis#darry curtis x reader#sodapop curtis#steve randle#ponyboy curtis#two-bit mathews#dallas winston#johnny cade#darrel curtis
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i NEED a one shot of malistaire having a ptsd nightmare about their escape from dragonspyre then sylvia is there to comfort him when he wakes up
thank you for the prompt again, anon! i hope this meets your expectations! enjoy!
wet hands
tw; destruction, war collateral, trauma
Malistaire was tailing his father home from the Command Academy the hour it began.
Whispers of a riot, a coup, an attack had been floating around the mage division as of late. No, not floating, more like crawling up the grape vine and becoming the subject of many late night meetings between the senior members of their branch.
High General Vladan Drake, naturally, was required to be in attendance. At first, Malistaire was worried that the other correspondents wouldn't let him attend-he had a fraction of his father's experience in service, but to his surprise, he was given a seat at the table and even asked for his opinion on occasion.
"Just in case one of us drops dead before this all blows over. You have a youth to tell our story," one of them, a blunt Diviner, had stated.
"We have the crystals for that, Agatha," his father snapped back. "Why shouldn't we use them to keep record of our rendezvous?"
"You saw what happened when those little gems get into the wrong hands." She took a long whiff of her cigar and leaned back into her chair. The smoke smelled to Malistaire of burnt parchment and sandalwood; not something that he'd remotely want wafting in his lungs. "Can't trust anybody these days. One leaked jewel and the upper echelons of society go to-"
"Enough," commanded a third voice. He was seated at the head of the round table, rings of every cut and metal adorning each of his thumbs. "We will not be holding any proof of our meetings on this topic. My superiors are suspicious of us as it is-"
He was about to elaborate further when the crystal goblet before him began to tremble. The drink within started to ripple, then splash onto the table. Malistaire gripped the edge of his chair and looked towards his father.
"What is this, now?" Vladan hissed, looking to the door of the room. "Another experiment of the lower division?"
Suddenly, a frantic knocking sounded at the double doors to the conference room, accompanied by a voice too young to be a late attendee, too old to be one of the servants.
A white haired woman who had yet to speak raised her hand to the deadlock, and the chains fell apart at her will. The doors flew open to reveal a gentleman in harlequin robes, red as a child in the snow. His breaths came out in wild pants, and his fingers gripped his wand as if he were still in battle.
"Mikaeil," the woman greeted stoically. "What is going on?"
"The Titan!” he gasped, struggling to stand up straight. "The Titan is-is here."
"I beg your pardon?" Vladan probed, brows knitting in disbelief. "Tell the full truth, boy!"
"It is the truth!" insisted Mikaeil, rising to full height in the presence of the General. "And you must evacuate at once! The insurgency-"
Another tremor rocked the underground chamber. This time, dust cascaded above their heads. A hairline crack appeared in the stone, before splintering across the ceiling.
“The insurgency has begun,” the woman finished. She finally opened her eyes, revealing glowing ivory pupils which had scried their doom.
"But-" Vladan began, just as a stone column shattered the stone ceiling and appeared like a giant rusty nail in the center of the room.
"I said we leave! Now!" The mage repeated.
They were running. It was difficult to keep pace when the ground wasn't meeting his feet. The thunder and rumble were deafening to his young ears. When they were outside, the sky was blanketed in thick fog. Not fog, Malistaire realized. Smoke and debris from the destruction that had only begun.
"To our airships, general?" The cigar-wielding woman shouted.
"If we can!" Vladan called back. "There's a cargo ship near the commerce district. Meet there!"
As was taught in all schools of battle, it was too dangerous to travel together. While they couldn't quite see their enemy, it was better to assume they had the entire command academy surrounded.
"If this is an attack, then where is-"
A hellish roar tore through the quarter. They all gazed up to the sky, where the crimson, leathery wings beat mercilessly through the smog.
"The Titan . . ." Malistaire muttered in awe. The stench of burnt flesh and ash wafted from above. From the cloud cover, he felt a drop of rain hit his cheek. Placing a finger to his face, he found that it was warm. Blood.
"General!"
Behind them, an ornate pillar gave way. But not just the shattered stone beam. Shards of crumbling white stone, all fashioned into jagged points, were hovering in the air, like knives pointed at a target. Pointed at them.
An unseen puppeteer gave the command, and the pillar came down in unforgiving gravity.
“Father!”
“Malistaire?” came a soft voice beside him.
He gripped the cotton bedsheets in clenched fists. There remained an unyielding tightness in his chest, and sweat gathered on his brow. But the air was different: tinged with morning dew and waxy smoke wafting from the nightside table. The warm glow of an oil lamp filled the room, illuminating their shared bedroom.
No fire. No chaos. No blood raining from the carnage-stained clouds.
Just his wife, staring at him with a familiar concern.
Ah.
It happened again, hadn’t it?
Another nightmare to inconvenience those around him. Some sorry part of him wished he could carve his memories out of his head. The aftermath of this was never pretty. He didn’t need comforting. He didn’t need to recount the days of horror and warfare. It wasn’t as if that would change anything. Those events were singed into his brain like a brand on skin. No theurgist could fix that.
“Apologies,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I . . . I’m sorry for waking you.”
“No need to say sorry, silly,” assured Sylvia. “It’s really nobody’s fault, you know. The mind can be a horrible foe sometimes.” As if she hadn’t parroted that to his brother too.
She slid off her side of the bed and stretched her arms. Her hair was twisted into unruly tangles, brushed aside to show tired green eyes. Despite her best intentions, he could tell she was tired, too. Now she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until she had to get up for the day’s work.
“I’m going to make tea,” she yawned. “Raspberry leaf or the stuff from Marleybone?”
“Your call,” Malistaire replied. He was still unnerved by what he’d seen in his subconscious, and anxious about the trouble he was causing her. His throat was too dry to let him offer another apology.
There was nothing to do but stare blankly at the other end of the wall with his racing thoughts. Before he knew it, Sylvia had returned with two teacups of floral refreshment. He made a mental note to thank Arthur for introducing them to this custom.
“Here. Be careful.”
He took his own cup and wrapped his palms around the base, smiling at its fleeting but welcome warmth. Sylvia took her place next to him and they both said nothing for but a moment, quietly partaking in their drinks.
“Same sequence?” She asked once they’d both had a sip.
“Not quite. It . . . this took place earlier, minutes before we arrived in Wizard City.” It was easier to talk about if he treated it like a historical text from a book, not the horrors of his own mind. “It’s as if I’m going through all the motions in reverse, back to the start of it all. The problem is that I don’t think there’s any further to go back to.”
“Well,” Sylvia began, “that’s a good thing, isn’t it? You’ve completely exhausted the entire story, so it can’t get any worse from here.”
“Not necessarily . . .” Malistaire grumbled.
“I know.” She sighed and took another sip of her tea. The conversation always progressed this way. There was little she could do to quell his self-destructive subconscious. As far as either of them knew, there were no spells that took away bad dreams, at least not ones that didn’t require the favor of a fairy or a monetary fee of some sort. Those were simply fiction[SH1] .
“. . . I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do, my heart,” she said sadly, setting her cup on the nightstand. “And I understand that I don’t really understand the things you see in your dreams.”
“Sylvia, don’t bother.” Malistaire grumbled, putting his down as well. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“Exactly,” his wife affirmed. “I’m not going to stop searching for something to make this easier. Dahlia might know something, or maybe a seraph on the Way could-“
“That isn’t what I meant.” He interrupted, more roughly than intended. “We would both know about that, wouldn’t we?”
He scowled at the floor, finally feeling better now that his anxiety was turning into frustration.
“My father and mother have been lost. My brother and I can’t return home because there isn’t one to return to, not even if we wanted. And for all we can do, between the both of us, we can’t bring them back.”
Cracks, shouts, fire, stone, shards.
"General!"
“Ever since then, every night, I am reminded of that, and I despise it.”
“Ah.”
Sylvia’s face was unreadable. It took her a moment to rationalize the horribly charged vent that’d spilled from his mouth. before her face gave way to kind understanding. The corners of her mouth turned up in a wistful smile, and he could only wish he could have her saintly patience.
“You are correct, love. Nothing you said was wrong,” she soothed. “However-“
She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Her graceful hand clasped over his. The messy locks of her hair brushed against his face, daisies and rain under his nose.
“Your wounds are fresh, and they can still heal. Your parents may have passed, but their legacy is not entirely forgotten-thanks to you and your brother,” she added, smiling. “I promised you that I would save as many people as I could, and I know there are so many more, and that there is still so much work to do. So, so much work.”
Three tiny squeezes in the heart of his palm.
“I know it hurts, love. I know you’re tired. But I’m almost certain that one way or another . . .”
A tender kissed pressed to the stubble on his cheek.
“You can always find your way back home.”
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I had another idea for Tentoo and Rose, and I had to write it up.
Summery: Clearly, if you’re going to be living in a new world where you can’t just always get away with psychic paper to get into places, you’re gonna have come up with an identity for yourself.
And that includes a name.
So, Rose and the Doctor have an afternoon to kill, why not figure out what works best for the guy?
The name I give Tentoo is pretty much my headcanon name for him, do with it what you will. Also, the names suggested are mostly for fun.
On with the fic!
--
To Name a Doctor
--
A thwump sound caught the Doctor’s attention from the banana he was peeling, and his attention was drawn to the puce folder in front of him. It was still weird that puce was the color for folders rather than manilla in this universe, but it was the little things that seemed to catch his attention more than the big things.
Like how the chips here were terrible and he was working on genetically modifying a root vegetable in order to make actual, good chips.
The Doctor looked up at Rose who sat on the opposite side of the kitchen’s bar, gently pushing the folder closer to him. “Dad wanted me to give you these yesterday, but I forgot them in the car last night.”
“And they are…?” He asked, opening it up to see documents that required him to fill out information.
“Well, they’re identification papers that Dad and I wrote up yesterday over lunch. You’ve been here for over a week now and you’ve done a number of things but have not given yourself an identity here.” Rose replied and the Doctor set down his banana, giving this a little bit of thought.
Yes, in just his ten days here in Pete’s World, he’s built himself a screwdriver, bought himself some clothes, pretty much moved into Rose’s room (though he technically had his own in the Tyler estate until he and Rose found their own place), and had gotten on Jackie’s nerves at least thirty nine times. Oh, and he was able to properly identify and disarm an alien gas bomb that Torchwood had discovered through a phone call with Pete.
But Rose was right, he had yet to do anything about giving himself ‘official’ documents here. Rose had her own made forever ago, excellent fakes, no one could tell that they weren’t real, which means he’d have to get himself some too.
“Hmm… do we have anything planned today?” The brunet asked as he looked over the papers.
“Nope.” Rose spoke, popping the P. “So, wanna lie on some documents?”
The Doctor’s grin rivaled the one his girlfriend shared, and he took the pen she offered him. She got up from her seat, saying she was gonna make them some tea and he nodded, looking down at the papers in front of him.
“Alright, let’s fill out the easy stuff.” He commented, quickly writing down his weight, height, hair and eye color for IDs and ‘updated’ information, before hitting the roadblocks. “Birth date… hmmm, what do you think works best? Christmas Day, or when the meta-crisis happened?”
Rose looked over her shoulder, confused. “Christmas Day?”
“You know, when…?” The Doctor raised his right hand, wiggling his fingers.
This got a laugh out of the blonde as she put the kettle on the stove. “Oh, that’s a good one! I’d say Christmas, I mean, technically it was the day you were born, both as the hand and as the new Doctor.”
“Well, actually, I was regenerated on that day in the Game Station, and we arrived back on Earth on Christmas Eve, but still, close enough!” The part-Time Lord wrote down December 25th on the document before frowning. “Okay, parents… technically myself and Donna.”
“Then put down John Smith and Donna Noble.” Rose snickered. “Oh, I bet they’d have real laugh about that.”
“Donna might! Before she’d get angry about it. ‘Oi, spaceman! I am not gonna be your mother, even if I did help make you’!” The Doctor spoke, putting on his best impression of the fiery redhead, which sounded way too much like her, so he quickly shut his mouth. Rose burst out laughing at this and he scowled, before laughing as well. He quickly wrote down the names before pausing.
“I do have to give myself a name. John Smith won’t work. I mean, it’s worked a number of times, but some people are so suspicious of how generic it is, ya know? And I’m technically another version of the Doctor, still him, but upgrade, in a sense.” Like Hell he’d say he was downgrade.
Rose shrugged. “You could be a junior, or a second.”
The Doctor made a face. “Hmm… I dunno… maybe I could try for a new name? Something a bit different. What do you think of David?” He asked, saying the first name to come to mind.
“Hmm…” Rose thought, looking him over. “You sort of look like a David, but we’ll put that in the maybe pile. What about Matt?”
“Nah, don’t look much like that. Peter?”
“No, not that. Alec?”
“I feel like that name would make me ruder than I already am. Anthony?”
Rose snorted. “No, that’s my brother’s name! Though, if you were ginger with that name… Crowley?”
The Doctor shook his head. “Don’t think I could pull that off. Corin?”
Both paused and made faces. “No, no, terrible name, you’re right.” He shook his head. “Somehow that sounds ruder than Alec! Cassiopeia?”
“Doctor, I know I probably won’t call you these names except around people who don’t know you’re the Doctor, but there is no way in hell I’m callin’ you that.”
The Doctor looked at her funny. “What’s wrong with naming myself after a constellation?”
Rose just looked at him, raising an eyebrow, crossing her arms with an expression that basically shouted ‘are you seriously asking that question’.
“Right.” He sighed, scratching his head. “Jack?” He joked and she laughed. “Nah, good point. Oh! Wait, I’ve got one! Wilfred!”
This got Rose to raise an eyebrow. “Donna’s grandpa?”
“Yes! He’s a good man, really enjoyed his company, got to spend some time with him. Did you know he got a star named after him after he discovered it? Amazing, real proud of that man.” The Doctor smiled softly, toying with the pen in his hands. “I hope he’s doing okay.”
Rose knew there was a quiet, unspoken addition to that, but she didn’t bring it up. “Wilfred is a good name; do you want that?”
“I was thinking that’d be my middle name. I might go with John as the first, for old time’s sake, but Wilfred is the middle name. And… Noble, for the last name?”
The blonde gave this a bit of thought, tapping at her chin. “John Wilfred Noble… I like it.”
“Sounds good enough to tag on Tyler to it in the future?” The half-alien grinned and Rose walked over, giving him a little shove before a kiss on the cheek.
“John Wilfred Tyler-Noble? I think that’s an excellent name. Just don’t be writin’ that down on that paperwork! Don’t want Dad asking us a million questions!”
“Oh come on, it would be hilarious to show my ID card to your mom and watching her reaction!” He got a punch to the arm, making him wince. “Alright, alright, I’ll save that for later.”
Rose smirked and kissed his cheek again. “Right, so, for now you just leave the Tyler part off until we get that far. But this looks pretty good, now, onto figuring out your birth year.”
“Oh, that’s gonna be a challenge.”
END
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Just something short and sweet. I’m in that group of Tentoo fans that loves the idea that he took on Wilfred’s name and Donna’s last name, especially cause I’ve been looking into the side content involving Ten and Donna and how much he seems to enjoy the Noble family (yes, that includes Sylvia, to a smaller extent, I mean, he even pretended she was his mother-in-law in an audio adventure). And yes, Wilfred does have a star named after him, its from one of the novels.
I might make this a little series of one-shots of Tentoo adapting to Pete’s World, spending time with the Tylers, and exploring this universe.
Thanks for reading!
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Mom-Friend Looking For A Dad-Friend - Part 3
Sylvia’s POV
Sylvia knows she should feel guilty. You look so uncomfortable at the party, back pressed against the wall, eyes darting around like a stalked animal watching out for a hunter. Your arms are crossed over your stomach in what she recognizes as your signature move--something you always did during your one year of overlap at Starfleet when she dragged you to the occasional party--quite effective at hiding your body from the world.
You look so out of your element in the fit and flare dress she forced you into, even though you shouldn’t. Your curves look fantastic and after hours of deliberation you were both able to tame the signature Tilly Sisters Frizz TM. She’s actually quite proud of the smokey eye she was able to slather on you and the lipstick she convinced you to wear. You look beautiful, I mean, you’re her big sister, her first and bestest friend, of course you look beautiful to her.
But she’s hoping that you can see that in yourself too because she knows another certain someone on the ship sees you as absolutely enthralling.
Her eyes flit between you and the door, hoping that Saru will take the hint and actually show up. She’d been dropping little details to him all week about the party and how you had wanted to attend (which was a lie) to meet someone (another lie).
What? She’s desperate. She’s been watching her basically-Captain/resident dad of the entire ship quietly fawn over her sister for months and vice versa. She needed to up the ante if she was going to get you two together, and well, nothing is more motivating than jealousy. One thing about post-vahar’ai Saru that everyone was picking up on was that he was far more expressive and a lot less shy. Especially, Sylvia noticed, when it came to you. She actually heard him growl once at an ensign that got a little too close to you in the cafeteria.
Actually, said ensign is making his way over to you right now with two drinks and a drunken smirk on his face. Her eyes glance nervously at the door. Still no sign of Saru. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
(Y/N)’s POV
You were going to kill your sister. You hated parties with a passion. All the people rubbing against each other, rubbing against you and spilling your drink, the form fitting clothing. Especially the form fitting clothing.
Not to mention that the few times you have gone to parties always ended in you being abandoned by friends who found someone to go home with while you were left alone and feeling unwanted.
The other reason you’re absolutely miserable at this party is because the one man you actually want to dance with isn’t here. Because why would he? A room of his crew mates grinding against each other isn’t exactly his scene. But your eyes still dart to the door, willing Saru to march through those doors and take you in his arms like in a typical Earth romantic comedy.
Except why would he? You’ve been ignoring him for days and have most likely effectively destroyed any interest he could have had for you. He probably thinks you’re so shallow and immature and weird.
“Hey there.”
Your eyes meet the drunken smile of Mark, an ensign on the ship who has flirted with you on more than one occasion. He’s come to your office numerous times, always feigning emotional distress so that he has an excuse to flirt with you. You’ve turned him down time and time again, sighting that you were not interested. Mark doesn’t seem to get the hint.
“Good evening, Mark.” You straighten your back but keep your arms around yourself, mindful that the dress your sister gave you is low-cut and showing off more cleavage than you’ve ever showed in your life. You shudder when Mark’s eyes immediately wander to your ample chest. You push yourself away from the wall but Mark steps in front of you, effectively caging you in.
“I got you a drink.”
“Oh. Thank you, but I’m not thirsty.” You try to take your leave again, really just wanting to go home and wallow in a bowl of ice cream.
“Actually,” you continue, “I was just about to head out.”
“Aw, why?” He leans forward, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “Don’t you want to dance with me, Doctor?”
“I’m not much of a dancer. Now if you will excuse me--”
“What the hell is wrong with me, huh?” Mark snaps and slams both cups on the ground. “I’m a nice guy. A good looking guy. You could do far worse.”
His words are slurred but none the less furious. His eyes are dark and glaring at you now, something evil within them.
You glance around for help but the music is too loud and there are just too many bodies. Nobody seems to notice your distress or the sudden violent nature of Mark.
“I’m sorry, Mark. I’m sure you’re very nice but I--” One of his hands punches the wall next to your head and you yelp.
“You’re fucking right! Better than any guy you could get with in your life, you fat fucking bitch--” In an instant you’re pulled away from the wall by a strong arm while Mark is lifted from the back of his collar and pressed harshly, face first into the wall.
Saru POV - a few minutes earlier
Saru stares at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing what is now the third outfit he’s tried on. It has to be perfect. Tonight has to be perfect. Because you’re perfect and you’re at that party waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and damnit, that someone is going to be Saru. He’s not sure what he would do if you found someone else to dance with tonight, to hold and to love. It would completely destroy him. So yes, everything has to be perfect.
This whole week, Saru has been completely miserable. He’s sure you’ve been ignoring him and he’s not entirely sure why, except he’s completely convinced that he’s done something wrong. He’s tried reaching out, but you keep turning him away at every turn and it’s truly breaking his heart. He misses his meals with you, he misses relaxing in the observation deck with you, and he dreads seeing the exhaustion on your face when he passes your office (which he’s found time to do every day under the guise of “checking in on the med bay” -- everyone knows he’s definitely not checking in on the med bay).
And then there was Ensign Whatever His Name Is, who has become the bane of Saru’s existence. The last time you had dinner with him, Ensign Asshole decided to sit at your table and unabashedly sidle up to you. It wasn’t that Saru saw him as a threat, it did not go unnoticed how uncomfortable you were at the ensign’s advances and, let’s face it, Saru knows he’s far better suited for you. But it was your discomfort, and the way the ensign’s eyes lingered on you like you were a piece of meat for him to consume and then toss aside, that made Saru want to flip the table and launch the man across the room.
Maybe that’s why you’ve been shutting him out, though. Maybe for some inexplicable reason, you were incredibly attracted to this man and you were leaving Saru in the dust. His heart clenches and his stomach feels pained at the thought.
Saru runs a hand over this new outfit, debating whether you would approve of the color, if he should wear something more casual, or something fancier? Maybe something... form fitting? Michael had mentioned that humans tend to wear something a little tighter to seem attractive...
Michael alluded that you might be at this party tonight, and immediately he began thinking up ways to woo you, to show you that he was obviously the right man for you. Or at the very least, it would be a reason to talk to you, to figure out how to get back in your good graces. He doesn’t have to date you at all, he just needs you back in his life in any capacity.
A ping on his PADD interrupts his ruminating. He grabs it, smiling and hoping that it’s a message from you.
It’s not.
Sylvia: Are you coming?!
Saru: Yes. I just need a few moments
Sylvia: You need to come right now!!! It’s (Y/N)!!!
Saru’s eyes widen and his heartbeat accelerates in an instant. He tosses the PADD on his bed and makes quick strides to the common room where the party is being held. His mind races as he imagines what could have happened. Were you injured? Were you asking for him?
When he arrives at the party he stands in the doorway, scanning the many heads below him for the curly (h/c) hair he knows so well and loves so much.
“Saru!” Sylvia has been by the door waiting the moment he walked in to yank on his arm. She frantically points to a spot on the wall and looks at him with helpless eyes. “I can’t get to her. There are too many people.”
Saru’s eyes track from her finger to the wall, where he sees your small form cowering under that same ensign’s body. Seeing the fear in your eyes, the helplessness, and the tears starting to pool, stirs something deep and vicious in Saru. His instincts go into overdrive, like he isn’t in control of himself anymore. Or maybe he is, this new, fearless version of himself has taken over.
Saru marches forward, shoulders tensed and his mouth set in an uncharacteristic snarl. The crowd seems to part for the seething Kelpien until there is nothing between him and Ensign Dickhead, who can’t seem to read the room.
With one arm he pulls you out from your spot between the wall and this scum of the earth. With his other arm, he snatches the ensign’s collar, lifts him off the floor and smashes his head into the wall, holding him there. He growls, a low and savage sound. Everyone is looking at him but all that really matters in this moment is your wellbeing and the man who tried to threaten you.
Even though the ensign is off the ground, he is nowhere near as tall as Saru, who is looming over him. Saru leans down, ignoring the whimpers of pain from the ensign who definitely has a broken nose.
He snarls, “Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”
He wants to do more to this man. He wants to beat his head against the wall. He wants to drop him on the ground and kick his stomach until he can’t breathe. He wants to shove him in the airlock and hit ‘eject.’ He’s basically the captain, he can do it. But your gentle hands wrap around his free forearm, reminding him that you’re here and that everyone is watching.
He glances down at you with a serious gaze, looking to you for guidance. ‘What do you want me to do to this man?’ his stare asks. Because he’d do anything you asked him.
You give him small shake of the head and Saru drops the man immediately. As two security officers and your sister swarm the bleeding man on the ground, you tug on Saru’s arm, signaling him to follow you.
Your walk together is quiet. Saru still feels the anger coursing through him. He really wants to turn around and finish the ensign off, and he doesn’t particularly care how out of character this is for him. That man deserves every bit of pain Saru can muster for what he did to you, what he was going to do to you. But there’s also the stress, the concern that you are furious with him, that he was too violent, that he had startled you. Would you hate him now? Are you afraid of him?
You tug his arm one last time, taking him to... his room.
Third Person POV
You drag him inside and lead him to his bed. After a few moments, Saru realizes that you want him to sit. So he does. He’s still taller than you, but your face, your eyes, your lips are infinitely closer to his now. Your hands slowly trace from their hold on his forearms, up his arms and shoulders, to hold his cheeks. Your eyes look deeply into his own, and he can see that there are still tears in your eyes.
Instinctually, Saru’s arms find their way around your waist and tug you closer to him. You ease into him immediately because after that display, you know that there is nowhere safer than Saru’s embrace. One of his hands rubs soothing circles into your back while the other stays around your waist. Your head buries itself into his shoulder while your arms wrap around his neck.
You both stay like that for a few moments, relishing each other, acknowledging that you are both together and safe in the garden that is Saru’s room.
“You’re not mad?” Saru whispers.
“A little startled.”
“Oh.”
You pull away slightly but your hands return to his cheeks.
“I’ve never seen you so...”
“Angry?” Saru’s eyes are downcast, waiting for the moment you tell him yes, you were so vicious, I could never love someone so violent.
“Valiant.” You give him a shy smile with a hint of embarrassment.
Oh.
Both of Saru’s hands return to your waist and give it a comforting squeeze.
“Did he hurt you?” Saru’s eyes scan over you.
“No, no. He just scared me.”
He pulls you closer so you can lean your head against his chest. Like you weigh nothing at all, he lifts you onto his lap and wraps his arms around you again. You don’t know where this forward and overly affectionate Saru came from, but you’re not about to start complaining. You’ve dreamt of this after all.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “You really didn’t need to get that fierce with him.”
“I know, I know but... That wasn’t right. He was horrible and he was going to hurt you and you deserve so much more than that.” You shrug slightly, not fully believing him. Your whole life you’ve only attracted less-than-sub-par men and at some point you just started to assume that you never deserved better.
“(Y/N) Tilly I am being serious. You deserve the best that this universe has to offer. You deserve someone who will respect you and love you, who thinks you’re the most brilliant and stunning woman who has ever lived.”
“And who thinks that?” You reply meekly, really hoping he’s about to confess to you. But the mind is a horrible, merciless entity, dead set on dashing such hopes.
“Well... If it wasn’t already obvious,” Saru gulps and takes a deep, steady breath. “I think that.”
Screw you, mind.
“Really?”
“I do. I have thought so since the moment I met you and each moment spent with you has only reinforced how I feel.” Saru bows his head and nuzzles his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he whispers, as if those three words have the power to end his entire existence
You release a shaky breath and let your tears fall.
“I’m... I’m sorry,” you whisper and Saru’s shoulders deflate.
“You don’t feel the same,” he whimpers in the most pathetic way possible. It causes your heart to wrench.
“I was so convinced that you felt this way about Michael or, or somebody else, anybody but me,” you sniff. “And I was ignoring you because I couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to love you. You must think I’m such a child.”
You look away from him but his hand immediately moves under your chin and directs you to look up. He’s beaming at you, eyes glassy with joy, and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.
You lean up and capture his lips in yours, conveying all the love you feel for him. Saru inhales sharply through his nose but lets out a breathy moan as he leans into your kiss. His hands tighten their hold on you and pull you closer, until there is barely any space left between you both.
You pull back by barely an inch, not daring to stray too far from this man.
“I love you too,” you whisper.
Saru beams at you, shyly, but the glow of that smile speaks volumes. He kisses you again, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck, securing you to him.
#they say write the stories you want to see#saru x chubby!reader#saru x reader#Star Trek Discovery#star trek
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Hey can you write something where Rin feels really shitty all day, but no one notices until she’s talking to someone and suddenly faints or something. If you can’t do it, it’s totally fine Thanks!
Hey anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this request, but thank you very much for sending it! Sick girls are a lot harder for me to write than sick boys, but Rin deserves the love just as much as any of them.
This is UNRELATED to the current ongoing Ouija Board series, and takes place before Shayne being motion sick on the train. (You’ll see where I place it in the masterlist.) Fun fact: The friends-helping-spaced-out-friend-find-their-desk was inspired by something that actually happened to me in college.
CW: anxiety, exertion, academic pressure, bullying, toxic friendship, fainting, sickness
Rin had honestly made an attempt to look at what number desk belonged to her on the way into the exam hall. The problem was that she’d focused so hard on the task of looking at the busy diagram of names and numbers, that she’d forgotten to complete the task of internalising the information she actually needed. Now she was wandering down an aisle at random, hoping to light upon her own name as she glanced at the tags on front of the desks.
She came to a stop eventually, her heart sinking into her gut, sweat gathering in her palms. She’d stayed up until almost four a.m., but she hadn’t thought she’d be quite this tired and unable to focus. Her legs ached and her chest and throat felt tight, but she shook it off as just tension pooling in her body in anticipation for the exam.
Rin jumped as hands touched both her elbows, and she almost yelped right there in the exam hall. She glanced from side to side to see that it was just Charlie at her left elbow, and Shayne at her right.
“Where are you off to, idiot?” Shayne asked. “Your desk’s at the other side of the hall, a few rows behind mine.”
“Oh,” she said, numbly nodding her head and fidgeting with her pencil case. Her throat stung when she spoke, and then again when she attempted to swallow.
“What, did you revise so hard your brain came loose?”
“Shayne,” Charlie hissed, but Rin didn’t mind. It was the first time she’d been insulted by a friend and actually felt somewhat warmed by it. Charlie’s and Shayne’s hands felt so strong under her elbows that she knew she could have leaned a lot harder into them than she was currently.
Her feet felt a little steadier now, though they had nothing to do but go on auto-pilot for a few minutes. The boys even sidestepped her through a random row of desks for no reason other than to avoid walking her past Katie. Rin’s head might have been floating somewhere up in the clouds, but she was present enough to realise what they’d done, and she had a silly little smile on her face by the time they lowered her into her seat.
“Hey,” Charlie grinned, crouching on the floor next to her desk. Rin blinked and tried to focus on his face, tried to let his bright blue eyes and his smile ground her a bit. “You’ve got this, okay?”
Rin nodded, swallowing thickly despite a harsh scratching sensation in her throat. She wanted to say thank you, and maybe offer some encouraging words in return, but couldn’t choke anything up. She just wanted to put her head down and have everyone in the hall be quiet. She twirled the strands of hair she’d left loose from her ponytail, after not feeling bothered to braid it or put it up in buns. She couldn’t even remember if she’d washed it yesterday or the day before, because she’d barely slept or looked at anything but books in that time. She tugged at the streak of white hair at the side of her face, wondering how much whiter it would go once these exams were over. She couldn’t remember thinking about much else, but suddenly the bell rang, and the papers were being handed out, and Rin’s world was spinning, and it felt like the beginning of the end.
-
Oh, god, what the hell just happened?
Rin staggered up from her desk, glancing around as a hundred other students got up from theirs. Her head was absolutely swimming, her throat ached, and her shirt had become clammy against her skin since the exam started. The only evidence that she’d actually written something in the past two hours was the fact that her fingers and wrist ached from holding her pen.
She shakily picked up her things and shuffled a few rows back. The air in the hall felt thick, and everyone seemed to be far too close for comfort, no matter how much she tried to sidestep them as they left their desks. Luckily, Shayne hadn’t left his yet, and he looked up in surprise as Rin pressed her hands on his desk.
“Well?” he asked, tucking his pen behind his ear. “How’d it go, wiz kid?”
“How did – what?” Rin lowered her head. It felt like waves were crashing in her ears, making the sounds of the exam hall fade in and out. Her eyes didn’t feel like they were all the way open.
“The exam,” Shayne said. “Sylvia Plath came up, like you guessed. I was surprised you didn’t start jumping up and down.”
“Plath,” Rin mumbled, pressure building in her head as she tried to focus. I am sliver and exact. No, not sliver; silver. Fuck. Had she written any of that on her paper? Had she written “sliver” instead of “silver”?
She pulled her glasses off and pressed her hand to Shayne’s desk again, leaning even more weight on her arms.
“Come on,” Shayne sighed. “We all know you have nothing to worry about, Rin.”
“No, no, Shayne, I-I –” Rin grunted as her legs went out from under her. She managed to catch herself somewhat on the edge of the desk, gripping the wood and pressing her forehead to the backs of her trembling hands. Her glasses clattered across the desk, her knees aching sharply as they hit the floor.
She felt hands on her almost straight away, and she panicked, thinking she was being pulled to her feet. No, she wanted to say, but all that came out was a whimper. She was just going to fall again; she was sure of it. Her fingers were starting to slip from the desk, so she would drop like a ragdoll if someone tried to hoist her up.
“I’ve got you, relax,” they were saying, and she no longer felt like she was being tugged. Just supported. “Rin? Holy shit. Holy shit, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say something?”
Rin mumbled wordlessly, feeling a shoulder move in to rest against her cheek. She leaned into it and winced at the sudden relief of not having to hold her head up anymore. She eased her fingers off the edge of the desk, arms slumping heavily into her lap. She almost laughed at how ridiculous she must have looked, like she was out-of-body and watching someone perform physical comedy.
“Oh my god, Rin?” A soft, slightly pinched voice came through the white noise. Charlie Bear. “Shayne, what – what happened?”
“I don’t know, she just dropped. Can you get some of these idiots to back off?”
Shayne, she thought, and she tried to say his name because his voice sounded so close, but her own sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. Someone else.
“I don’ – don’t feel well.”
“Oh, you think?” Shayne leaned in a little closer, his body warm and soft and solid as even more of the energy leaked out of Rin’s.
“Is she okay?” came another voice that Rin recognised, and it made her feel chilly. She suddenly wondered if she was taking up way too much space, causing a scene. She probably hadn’t needed to faint at all. Maybe she’d just been desperate for some attention. What was she like, lying on the floor with some boy holding her up?
“I think me and Charlie can handle this, thank you very much, Katie.”
“Just get her up already,” Katie hissed. “People are staring.”
Am I making a show of myself, Katie?
“Just fuck off, okay?”
Rin turned her head to bury her face in Shayne’s chest, wishing it would all go away, wishing she could just sleep, wishing she could get back the past two hours and stop panicking that she’d failed the exam from lack of concentration, wishing the room wasn’t so damn hot, or – or was it getting colder?
She opened her eyes as a cool breeze blew soft baby hairs across her forehead, sighing as the was easing into a sitting position. The detail of the tiny stones in the tarmac was so vivid it made her eyes hurt, and the flaked green paint of the bench was almost psychedelic. Lowering her eyes dizzily, she realised her glasses were back on her face, but she was missing a shoe. When she glanced around for it, she saw it in Shayne’s lap as he sat with her head against his shoulder.
“Wha’ – what happened?” Rin mumbled.
“It’s okay,” Shayne said. “You got a bit wobbly back there, but Charlie’s just bringing his dad’s car around. We’re gonna take you home.”
Tears stung Rin’s eyes and she began to compulsively shake her head back and forth, which only made her dizzier. She fought back a sob, knowing how much it was going to hurt her already aching throat, but it bubbled up from her chest anyway, dry and deep and whistling.
“Hey, it’s alright –”
“No, no, no – no, no – it’s not okay,” she whined, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the ground to stop rocking back and forth. She gasped for air between words, feeling like her lungs and throat were being alternatingly squeezed and prodded. “F-failed – failed the exam – I’m gonna – I’m not – I can’t –”
“Okay, look, this probably won’t sink in right now, but you’re gonna be fine, Rin. It’s just the winter exams; they don’t count for shit.”
Rin whimpered, the sound tearing at her throat.
“And, look, I’m sure you did fine. I mean – you, functioning at ten percent, are still better than most people at one hundred.”
Shayne was right; it didn’t sink in right then, but the tone of his tone was enough to calm her a bit anyway, and she turned to press her face harder against his shoulder to block out the afternoon sunlight, clamping a hand on his knee, just to have something to hold onto. Her arm trembled with the tightening aches setting into her muscles.
By the time Charlie came to take her from the bench to his car, she was almost unconscious again, and couldn’t lift her leg by herself when Charlie asked her to. He ended up lifting it into his hand so he could slide her lost shoe back on, and somewhere in her fever-addled brain, Rin wondered how she’d gotten even luckier than Cinderella, to have not just one, but two Prince Charmings to take care of her.
She wobbled and groaned when they stood her up, but at least the anxiety had quietly crawled away, leaving her sighing gratefully every time a hand cupped her elbow, or nudged at the small of her back to make her change direction.
When she finally settled in the back of Charlie’s car, Rin’s bones had more or less turned to jelly. Shayne positioned himself with his back against the door and let her put her head on his chest. He put a hand to her shoulder to make sure she didn’t flop over with the motion of the car. She opened her eyes at one point, gaze falling upon Charlie’s reflection in the rear-view mirror as he frowned slightly, focusing on the road.
I am silver and exact, she thought, closing her eyes and letting herself drop off.
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