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wheelsup · 4 years

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coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date.

Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body.

It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup.

You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours.

You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

“Yes.”

One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose.

_____

Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

“You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible.

Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

“I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

“And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.”

Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had.

_____

After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer.

The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops.

Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this.

It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones.

You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him.

He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known.

Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth.

You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.

But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #my fic #criminal minds self insert

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bubble-tea-bunny · 3 years

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dive into you

[bennett x reader]

author’s note: lil fic for bestest boy benny inspired by the song by nct dream and the summer season :’)

word count: 3,600

There’s a bakery opposite of Angel’s Share, just across the cobblestone road, and every morning the smell of freshly baked bread wafts from its open double doors, ready to welcome patrons and the crisp air of the early hours. Bennett has easily fallen into the routine of making this his first stop of the day. When he wakes, eyes slow to open and greeted by little squares of light on the ceiling of his bedroom from the sunlight shining through the window, he swears he can already smell that bread and the pastries and the care put into each one. He doesn’t often find it in him to be lazy, to be sluggish this early, for a new day was a new promise of adventure, and whether he’s swept along by the wind to the wilds or to the bakery, it’s an adventure all the same.

He always picks out food for his dads. He considers carefully what they might like to have (some prefer to have the same each time, others don’t mind the variety and like to be surprised), and carefully, slowly he fills the tray. Usually it isn’t busy during the time he’s there, but he doesn’t want to take risks as he holds it securely with both hands whenever he’s perusing the selection. Even if there were no people to bump into, with his luck, he might bump into one of the displays in the middle of the shop instead, consequence of paying more attention to the shelves against the wall where there are loaves baked into fun shapes like fish or crabs, rather than to what’s in front of him. He’d hate to drop everything on his tray and waste it.

Sometimes the bakery keeps the doors closed, and while uncommon, it’s nothing unusual. On these occasions, the entry of each customer is announced by the small bell jingling just overhead. It’s the only sound in the shop, ringing several times in the past ten minutes but it’s mere background noise, easily ignored, as Bennett absorbs himself in choosing what to buy today.

“Good morning!”

Bennett’s hand freezes just above a loaf of bread that looks like a bear and he glances behind him to the counter because the sound of your bubbly voice, conversely, is much more difficult to ignore. Though to be fair, to him, you’re no mere background noise.

You’re carrying a basket of more loaves just taken from the oven, half of them regularly shaped into circles and the other half like turtles, and grin at the customers who have just walked in. He watches you make your way over to a shelf several feet away from him to arrange the bread, and he stares long enough that you’ve taken notice. Your smile is bright and reaches your eyes, and he’s embarrassed to have been caught. His cheeks grow warm and you can probably see the dusting of red across his face, a speculation which doesn’t help alleviate this embarrassment one bit.

“Good morning, Bennett,” you greet him, more quietly since he’s closer.

He likes when you say his name, and it never fails to make his heart skip a beat and he stutters out an O-Oh, um… as if surprised that you’re talking to him, much less that you know who he is. It shouldn’t take him off guard that you know, considering how often he comes to the bakery, so he supposes it has more to do with the fact that he can’t believe his name should be spoken by a voice as gentle as yours, honeyed tones like the softly plucked notes of the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Finally he musters an equally quiet Good morning in response, smiling back but he’s certain it looks more like a cringe, owed to his nerves. If it does, you don’t point it out, and simply return to your task. Only when another patron comes up to Bennett’s other side, muttering a pardon as they grab a loaf from the shelf he’s standing in front of, does he break his gaze from you. His hand that had been hovering above the bread that whole time he drops back down to his side, and he scoots to make room with another stutter and a sorry.

You’re back behind the counter when Bennett is ready to pay. The pile of bread, cake slices, sandwiches, and other miscellaneous pastries had in the past led you to ask him if these were snacks for the road, for you’d guessed him to be an adventurer doing commissions for the guild by the sword at his side. He’d chuckled and explained his actual purpose for buying as much as he did, and your grin had widened, and if he wasn’t imagining things, you’d been extra careful when packing every treat.

I’m sure they’ll really appreciate your gesture, you’d said. That’s sweet of you. And it’s not frequently that events in the course of his life run smoothly, but that day they had, and with no falter in his words he remarks it’s thanks to you, for you’re the reason there’s anything to bring back to his dads in the first place. You’d laughed and his chest tightened and he thinks that’s the point where he started to fall (to where, he hesitated to state exactly). But in any case, it was true—without you, there was no bakery filled to the brim with delicious food, and if he had anything to say about that, Mondstadt would be worse off for it.

This morning, Bennett is digging around his wallet for the appropriate amount of Mora while you pack what he’d picked out. Having gone through this process many times prior, he knows approximately how much it should cost.

“Ah—”

A few coins slip from his hand and clatter to the wooden floor, and he bends to pick them up. But on the way down, his head knocks into the tray that he neglected to push all the way onto the countertop, so part of it still stuck out. You blink in surprise at the jostling of the tray and his subsequent Ouch!, muffled because he’s obscured by the counter.

“Are you okay?” You sound genuinely worried, but to Bennett the accident had been no big deal. At least none of the food had fallen.

“Yeah,” he assures you. He’s still trying to gather up the stray Mora, fingers failing to get a proper grip on them and he huffs in slight exasperation. His face once more is burning from the embarrassment of being so clumsy. He’s clumsy around everyone, and it’s something he has long since come to accept, but it matters a lot more when it’s you.

Finally he stands back up, the money clutched in his fist victoriously. “Yeah!” he repeats now that you can hear him clearly. “It’s no big deal.”

For a second you don’t quite believe him, but it’s hard to argue with that smile on his face. There’s no pain he’s trying to hide (embarrassment, on the other hand, is a different issue entirely).

Upon handing him his package you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow and he feels sort of special because you don’t say it to anyone else. To others, you say Thank you, come again! but you know his routine and you know to expect him at the same time each morning. Judging by the look in your eyes and the sound of your voice when you see and greet him, you anticipate his visit every time, and his heart wants to soar out from the confines of his chest upon this realization and he is exhilarated. The wind and the new day have fulfilled their promise of an adventure, and the clock hasn’t even struck noon.

One day you’re a little distracted, focused on a paper in your hand as Bennett approaches the counter with his tray of baked goods. For the most part, your face gives nothing away, but then your brows furrow slightly, a subtle action he doesn’t miss, and he proceeds to ask if anything is wrong. He asks it kindly, keeps his tone neutral, wordlessly conveying that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. He would hate to pry.

You purse your lips, pausing like you’re caught between saying yes and no. He waits patiently for whichever one it might be.

“I ran out of sugar and had been meaning to make more,” you start, opting to share with him what’s been troubling you.“I bought out Flora’s stock of sweet flowers but it wasn’t enough, so I may have to set aside time to pick more myself later.”

The mention of heading outside of the city makes Bennett perk up, for he never turns down a chance to go exploring. He’s about to offer to do it for you, but it’s the thought of possibly going with you instead that makes him hold back and rephrase his question.

“This afternoon?” he inquires, head tilting. You nod, and up until now he’d felt confident in the offer he was going to present, but then his nerves get the better of him and it doesn’t come out quite the way he was hoping. “I-I could go with you! You know, if you want! To protect you… Just in case…” He trails off and he wants to go hide in a hole. There are few other ways this could have gone worse.

You don’t answer right away, and he regrets having said anything at all, but your beautiful smile soon follows the silence and it sets his mind at ease, and you agree with a concise and cheery Sure! Well, at least the worst way this could have gone had not come to pass. It was the small victories for Bennett—just as important as the big ones. The next challenge would be to avoid making a fool of himself out there, in what should be his natural element; he does want to impress you. But that’s a big ask for someone like him…

Both of you agree to meet at the front gate in the late afternoon. By then, the traffic in the bakery is slow enough that you’re able to step away earlier than the normal closing time. You’ve changed into clothes more appropriate for walking around: in lieu of a dress, your typical work attire, you sport a tunic and trousers you don’t mind dirtying. The trousers are tailored to fit properly but the tunic is a tad big, the sleeves a bit too long, but Bennett thinks you look cute in it. A basket hangs on your forearm and you wave as you walk up to him.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” you say.

Bennett shakes his head. “Not long at all.” Technically the agreed upon meeting time was only five minutes ago, so you aren’t very late. Though he does refrain from sharing that he’d arrived early, in fear that he could end up late somehow and you would be the one who had to wait. Really, it’s been more like fifteen minutes for him, but he just keeps quiet about that.

One of the nice things about summer is that the sun sets later. There’s still a sufficient amount of light to illuminate the fields as you walk around in search of sweet flowers. At first, the extent of your conversation is discussing where you might be able to find a high concentration of them, then silence filled with the sifting of grass beneath your shoes and the occasional exclamation of having spotted a flower to be picked and tucked away in your basket.

Honestly, walking with you around the wilds of Mondstadt hadn’t been anywhere on Bennett’s list to do today, or any day really, not until he could muster the courage to invite you out like this, and who knew when that might be. Your need for sweet flowers had dropped the opportunity right into his lap, and thankfully he hadn’t squandered it. But now he’s at a loss as to what to talk about; he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

Maybe you sense his struggle to come up with a topic of conversation because you’re the one to speak up, asking about his adventures and the commissions he takes. Done anything exciting recently?

Bennett’s eyes light up, a reaction which you can't help but smile at, and he regales you of the goings-on of his latest missions. He omits the instances where his clumsiness had made things more difficult (of which there were many), but each story is still truthful. Most of his commissions the past month hadn’t been anything too bold—after a mission that involved nearly getting himself trapped in a ruin due to solving a puzzle wrong then getting food poisoning on top of that from the snack he’d prepped that day, he’s been choosing jobs that he knows he’s more capable of.

To him, they aren’t too exciting, and in the larger scope of things, perhaps they aren’t, but you don’t seem to think that as you hang on each word. You’re absorbed in his story about trying to dismantle towers in a hilichurl camp, and gasp at the mention of their reinforcements coming to attack in the midst of it. Wow, you remark after he finishes his recounting of the event. You’re amazing, Bennett!

His heart does a flip again at the sound of his name and he shrugs offhandedly. He’s not inclined to think so, but your awed comment is sincere and has him reconsidering: yeah, that was pretty cool of him, wasn’t it? For all his clumsiness, he doesn’t often see the feats for what they are, accompanied by blunders or not, but you’re the fresh perspective he’d been missing, and he wishes you’d stepped into his life sooner.

The entirety of your outing together has thus far been free of any monsters, but as soon as Bennett makes this observation it’s like the universe has heard: hydro slimes suddenly pop out from the ground, halting you in your tracks. You squeak in surprise and Bennett is quick to shift into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and one arm out in front of you protectively.

“Just stay there!” he instructs before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

Luckily there aren’t many slimes to fight off, and they aren’t very big. His sword cuts through them easily, cleanly. They burst and spray water upon being sliced apart, so at the end, when they’re all dead, the only evidence they had been there to begin with is the slight dampness to his clothes and the squish of dirt turned to mud. With a sigh of triumph, Bennett resumes a relaxed stance, then sheathes his weapon and turns to you.

As instructed, you’ve stayed in place, but it seems to have been more out of being frozen in fear than anything else. You’re clutching your basket close, and once the slimes are gone, you follow Bennett’s lead and relax, shoulders releasing the tension they had been filled with for the duration of that fight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, hand placed over your heart which has yet to slow back down to its normal pace.

“Thank you.”

Bennett flashes a toothy grin and waves his hand as if to say It’s not a problem. “That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?”

You smile back. “I’m glad we went together.”

Together. He likes the sound of that. He thinks to himself that he’d go with you to other places too; you need only to give the word. To the edge of this world, and through a portal to the next? He’d meet you by the front gate at dawn.

He’s surprised that the encounter with those slimes had gone as smoothly as it had. It isn’t uncommon for him to get hit a few times, bruises quick to form on his arms or his legs. And it’s quite the run of luck, of which he’s ordinarily in short supply, that he should get through a fight with nary a scratch on him while with you. His efforts to impress are actually succeeding.

However, this is another case of speaking too soon, because he starts to walk back to you, but then his foot gets caught on a rock concealed by the tall grass, and he tumbles to the ground.

“Oof!”

His chest collides with the earth as he lands with a thud and the breath is stolen from his lungs. You gasp and close the gap between you, and in viewing you in his peripherals, he notes that you are much more graceful at it.

“Are you all right?”

Bracing his hands on the dirt, small bits of rock digging into his palms, Bennett pushes himself up to sit on his knees. “Yeah, I’m okay!” Here he thought he had handled himself perfectly well, but then just like that, his clumsiness returned, and once more before you he is awkward, blundering Bennett.

Unlike the incident at the bakery when he’d bumped his head into the tray, this fall had actually hurt, and he can’t hide it successfully, a slight wince of pain crossing his face in spite of his smile. Even if you hadn’t caught on to that, the injuries elsewhere on his body give it away completely.

“Your arms are all scraped up…” After Bennett stands back up, you gingerly take hold of his forearm and angle it to examine the scrapes there, thin red lines from tiny stones tearing the skin.

Your grip is light, like you’re scared to injure him further, and Bennett is thankful for the darkness that is setting in as the sun disappears and the moon begins its trek across the sky, for it conceals the way his cheeks redden to be this close to you, to be touched by you. The concern in your gaze as you look at his arm makes his chest squeeze but not in the good way, and he bends his knees slightly to duck into your line of view.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine.” And it’s true. He’s sustained worse, though he steers clear of sharing this part. He doesn’t like to see you worried.

He straightens up when you finally meet his eyes and dons his smile again, easy and reassuring. It seems to convince you, as you nod and let go. He drops his arm back down to his side but he’s already missing the feather-light sensation of your fingertips. Successfully reassured, your smile also returns, replacing the thin line of worry that your lips had previously been set in.

It’s dark now but the air is still warm, a consequence of the season. In the daytime the heat is more extreme, made even more so by the fire curling from the edge of his sword. At the conclusion of whatever commission he has taken, he’s left sweating, satisfied but exhausted. Missions in the summer are more difficult to get through, the sun beating down with little mercy and its heat lingering into the night, but he thinks that if he were to have you there with him, he’d hardly notice.

Your delicate gaze is the cool ocean breeze and your soft smile the deluge of waves washing over him, a force he receives gladly because he is falling into you, deeper into the expanse of your heart. He’s diving into the sea, the unbearable heat of summer long forgotten as he makes his way to the bottom. What he hopes to find he isn’t sure, but he’d be content to remain there forever, consumed by you and all the love you have to offer.

“Okay?” he asks, voice soft. You had nodded but he also wants verbal confirmation that you won’t burden yourself with worry anymore.

You catch on to his own need for reassurance, and he wants to sink into the refreshing fondness of your eyes as you watch him. “Okay.”

The moon up above illuminates your face, and he wants to run his fingers along all the parts it touches: the line of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips. He yearns to be closer to you than that moonlight adorning your skin, and maybe it’s strange that he should be envious of it, of that light which has the privilege to hold you so near, but the feelings he has for you are what’s written about in books, and in those stories, people do tend to do strange things.

In the morning, he stops by the bakery as usual but this time is surprised when you set a cake down alongside the other baked goods he buys. You answer his question before he can voice it.

“For yesterday,” you state simply. “For my hero.”

Your—?

“I think ‘hero’ is too strong a word for it,” Bennett replies, chuckling quietly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. After all, they had just been slimes.

You hum noncommittally, corner of your mouth lifted in a grin. “Maybe, but yesterday you were mine. So please take this as thanks.”

He’d like to be yours every day, and the thought of how nice that would be makes his whole world just a little brighter, like the crystal butterflies fluttering around him in the wild on the warm summer nights; and he hopes that the next adventure the wind guides him on leads straight back to you.

#bennett x reader #bennett imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #bennett #genshin impact #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Tea | Draco x Reader

Prompt as requested by anon: hii ! I’m in love with ur writing! anyways could you do one where reader meets Draco’s mom & Narcissa absolutely loves her ? And like her embarrassing draco & stuff like that ? Just thought it would be cute 🥺

Warnings: lots of fluff

A/N: I’m so glad to see that people are enjoying my writing again! Feels good to be writing again! I forgot how much I love to write for y’all! Enjoy the imagine and have a happy Monday!!

Flashbacks are told in italics!

Lacing your boots up, you sit on the edge your bed as your hair falls in front of your face. You tuck your hair behind your ears, rising from the bed and looking at yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sucking in a deep breath through your nose and out of your mouth, you inspect yourself. The black wrap dress clung to your figure nicely and your hair framed your face nicely. Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, you grab your bag and jacket, trying not to thinking about the tight feeling in your chest as you prepped to meet your boyfriend’s mother for the first time.

A week prior, you and Draco sat in his dormitory as you worked quietly at his desk on your homework. Draco laid on his bed, tossing a ball up and down, remaining silent with little sighs here and there. The silence was comfortable as Draco patiently waited for you to finish your work before you could give your full attention. Maybe patiently waiting was a little too generous...

“Darling, you must be nearly done. You’ve been at that desk for hours,” Draco groans, sitting up, watching you scribble into your notebook alongside a slew of textbooks.

Without shifting your gaze, you reply, “I’m almost done. Please give me five more minutes, love.”

He groans and falls melodramatically back on his bed, continuing to throw the ball up and down. You take a few more moment writing some last notes from this night’s reading into your book before shutting the books closed and turning around in your chair. You look at the boy who lays on his bed, huffing about how stupid it was that he has been waiting for hours when in reality it was an hour and a half at most he was waiting for you to finish. “Are you done with your antics, Malfoy?” you ask him, a teasing smile dancing on your glossy lips.

Draco sits straight up and a cheeky smile finds its way to his mouth. “At last,” he breathes out as you walk over to him and he wastes absolutely no time throwing his ball to the other side of his room, pulling you into his lap, your usual seat. You allow a few small giggles to slip out of your mouth as he pulls you in, burying your face into the crook of his neck, breathing his scent in deeply. He smelled like cologne and apples. A pleasant combination to your senses. Draco places a small kiss to your temple before laying down on the bed, causing you to straddle him on his bed. “Best seat in the house,” he jokes, looking up at you. You looked like a vision; a toothy grin on your face, wispy hair falling front of your eyes as you brush it out of your view, your Hogwarts uniform hugging you in every place perfectly. He never knew how sexy that god awful uniform could look on someone.

You two remain in this position for a little while, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your hip bones, as you brush the white blonde hair on his head with your fingers. Cupping his cheek with one of your hands, you stroke it with your thumb before he turns his head and places a gentle kiss to your palm. Draco was putty under your touch. The boy would do anything you asked him to. He lived to make you happy, to make you feel special, to make you feel loved. If you asked him for the world, he would give it to you with the moon and the stars. You wished that other people could see this soft side of Draco, but at the same time, you loved that it was a little secret between the two of you. Only you got to see how gentle and kind he was; how thoughtful he could be. “Dray?” you ask as he hums in response, lacing your fingers with his, him gently kissing your knuckles individually. “What do you think our future holds?”

“Well, we’ll be married, of course,” Draco does not hesitate to answer this question, which brought you comfort. Draco talked nearly all the time about how much he wanted to make you his wife. If you weren’t still in school, he’d be down on one knee right now, proposing that you spend the rest of your lives with each other. “We can move into the manor with my parents,” he starts, watching him play with your hands, looking at the lines on your palms. This part of his proposition made you a little uneasy. Rather than living with Draco’s parents, you’d rather find a place of your own, away from all the madness of the Malfoy’s. You loved Draco, no question, but you didn’t know if you would love living with his parents. Speaking of which, of who you have not met yet. Well, technically you have met his father, but you would rather not chose to remember that awkward encounter. You smiling wide at him as Lucius looked at you with disgust, saying that his son was not dating any girl after you introduced yourself as Draco’s girlfriend. With that, he kept walking down the halls of Hogwarts, leaving you feeling quite embarrassed. “Something wrong?” Draco asks, propping himself up on his elbows, sitting halfway up. He noticed the tension in your shoulders when he brought up living with his parents.

Shaking your head back and forth, you reply, “No, I’m alright. Keep talking.” You press a small kiss to his lips trying to encourage him to keep talking about your future together. As you pull away, Draco has a look on his face that screams I’m not buying it. “Really, darling, I’m alright. Continue,” you push his shoulders, jokingly making him smirk. Draco thinks for a moment before his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Oh no,” your smile drops. “I know that face and I don’t like where this is going already.”

Draco laughs and sits up straight so your chests are now touching. “I want you to meet my mother,” he confesses and your heart stops beating for a moment. Your mouth goes dry and you try to keep yourself composed as to not alarm Draco. “I know the two of you will get on like a house on fire. You’ll come to the manor with me next week on holiday, won’t you?” he asks, his eyes pleading you to say yes. His blue eyes bore into you. Merlin, how were you supposed to say no. Feigning excitement, you nod your head up and down with a small hum. He chuckles, “Brilliant. I’ll send an owl and tell mother she should expect a very special guest.” Draco closes the gap between you two, pressing a hard kiss to your lips, showing you how thankful he was that the two most important women in his life would be meeting. You on the other hand, were absolutely horrified.

Now, here you were, bag and jacket in hand, making your way to Draco’s dormitory, your heart pounding out of your chest. It’s not that you didn’t want to meet Draco’s mother, you were just scared that you wouldn’t live up to her expectations. The Malfoy’s were one of, if not, the most powerful family of wizards. They had money, status, wealth, and power; something some people can only dream of, but something you were scared of. You and Draco came from two completely different backgrounds. You were not a pureblood Slytherin and you knew that this may pose a problem, considering how passionate Narcissa Malfoy was about having a pureblood line.Your parents were both wizards, your father was a Ravenclaw, mother a Slytherin. Of course, when you got to Hogwarts, you took after your mother, the sorting hat calling out Slytherin before the hat even touched your head, making you smile wide. Your parents weren’t very wealthy, money wasn’t something you had excess of. They had made you get a summer job alongside muggles, they insisted that teaching you the value of money at a young age would instill good habits in you. But now that you were taken by a Malfoy, money was never really a problem. If you even mentioned in passing that you wanted or needed something, it would be on your bed the next day with a love note from Draco. But still, you weren’t raised like that and the idea of spending money frivolously made your nerves act up.

Your thoughts are halted when you arrive at Draco’s door, tapping gently on his door. In two seconds, the door swings open to reveal a smiling Draco. He looks handsome, black turtleneck and blazer, freshly pressed trousers, and shiny black leather shoes. Draco looks you up and down and his smile grows wider if possible. “Perfect,” he coos before grabbing your waist and kissing you sweetly. He always knew what to say. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, nervously straightening out the pleats in your dress.

Draco closes his door behind him and takes your hand in his, making your way to the outside of the castle. “Oh, don’t worry. Mother will adore you. I just know it,” he squeezes your hand. “And if she doesn’t, too bad because I love you.” You give him a weak smile and kiss his cheek. At least you knew that Draco would be at your defense if all else fails.

The trip to the Wiltshire was smooth, but you were anything but. Thoughts circled your head constantly. What if she knows I’m not a pure blood Slytherin? What if she thinks I’m dressed inappropriately? What if she heard from Lucius that he thinks I’m a stupid git? What if she takes one look at me tells me to leave? But these thoughts didn’t help the time move slower.

And there you were, standing in front of Malfoy Manor, Draco’s fingers laced with yours, you holding his arm for extra support. You bit your lip nervously, scanning Draco’s face, looking for any hesitation. If he told you that he changed his mind, you would not hesitate leaving the manor right now. But it’s far too late when Draco has knocked on the large door in front of him. “You’ll be brilliant,” Draco tells you, kissing your nose.

Before you can open up your mouth to respond, the large door swings open to reveal Narcissa Malfoy. You expected someone else to open the door, but no, there she was in her full glory. Narcissa was more beautiful than you could ever expect. Brown hair pulled in an updo, while the platinum blonde that matched Draco’s fell on her shoulders perfectly. She wore a dark green snakeskin jacket that fell to the floor with a luxurious silk black dress and black leather boots. “There’s my boy,” she smiles, opening her arms to which Draco entered, hugging his mother tightly. Your nervousness subsided slightly as you watched the boy you loved give his mother a warm embrace. “I’ve missed you dearly,” she whispers in her son’s ear, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

They break their embrace before Draco steps to the side and says, “Mother, this is (Y/N). She’s my girlfriend. (Y/N), this is my mother.” After he says that, his eyes dart back and forth between his mother and you. He’s so nervous of who will speak first, how she will react to you, how you will react to her. He just wants the two women he loves to get along.

Gulping hard, you decide to speak first. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy. Draco has told me so much about you,” you offer her the warmest smile you could ever produce and extend a hand out to shake hers.

Narcissa laughs and pushes your hand away. Your heart stops. She hates me already. It hasn’t even been five minutes and she wants me dead. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). Call me Narcissa,” she speaks and immediately wraps you in a hug, squeezing you so tight. Your eyes widen as you look at Draco whilst hugging his mother. You have never seen Draco smile this big before in his life. His happiness makes you happy as you hug his mother back tightly. She pulls away, holding you back at arm’s length to take a good look at you. “Draco, you did not do Miss (Y/N) justice in describing her. She is even more beautiful than I could ever imagine,” she looks at her son with a smile. Draco smiles wide as you thank her for the compliment. “You two must be cold and hungry from the trip here. Please, come in, I have a kettle on the stove and biscuits.”

Draco leads you into the manor, you look around, taking its in stunning architecture and decor. The manor was decorated with ornate pieces in emerald green, blacks, and greys. The staple color palette of Slytherins. “Your home is beautiful, Narcissa,” you compliment.

“Thank you, darling,” she coos as she walks you and Draco into the main dining room, a long black marble table stretched from one end of the room to the other. Three place settings are at one end, green and silver tea cups and saucers sit beautifully on the table with plates of biscuits, sweets, and other foods. “This house has been in the Malfoy family for generations. It all started with Armand Malfoy who-”

“Mother, please,” Draco whines, knowing that this story would last for ages if his girlfriend let his mother tell the entirety of the story.

Narcissa rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, Draco doesn’t like my storytelling. He thinks I make the story longer than I need it to be,” Narcissa looks at her son, eyebrows raised giving him a knowing look as Draco mockingly laughs at her. “I think I tell stories just fine.”

You decide to add a little wood on the fire and tease Draco right back. “He does the same with me. I cannot possibly tell him a story of my day when he gets bored the moment I open my mouth. Not to mention, he is the one who asked for the story in the first place!” you tease, causing Draco to look at you, feigning offense.

His mother laughs brightly, throwing her head back. “Yes! Exactly! Oh, Draco, I’m so glad you brought home a lady who has a sense of humor. Come, (Y/N), follow me in the kitchen. I’ll tell you the story of the Manor whilst Draco waits out here for the tea to finish steeping,” Narcissa links your arms together and every single bit of nervousness and fear melts away in that moment. “Draco, dear, get napkins for us,” she instructs before whisking you away into the kitchen, asking what tea preference you have.

Hours have past, and here you were sitting at the Malfoy’s dining room table, tears in your eyes from laughing alongside Narcissa. She has now pulled out Draco’s baby book, pointing out pictures of the young child in the bathtub, soap sudds all over his head, naked little body in the shallow water. “He was two and a half here. He had just come back from a walk in the garden and he was covered in mud. The poor child had fallen into a puddle and was crying that he got dirty and demanded a bath,” Narcissa recalls the happy memory as Draco groans and leans back in his chair as you gaze upon the sweet photo.

“Aw, come on, Draco, you look adorable,” you coo as your fingers delicately touch the image pasted onto the parchment of the baby book. Draco shoots you a menacing glare as you giggle, flipping to the next page.

The day was going so smoothly. Narcissa asked you about school, your passions, how you and Draco fell in love...she wanted to know everything about you. She was so kind, it reminded you of how kind Draco could be. He had obviously inherited that from his mother and not his father. You were shocked. How could someone so lovely be married to someone so cruel?

Wiping the tear from the corner of her eye, Narcissa closes the baby book. “Alright, I think Draco has had enough teasing for today,” she says as Draco huffs a finally. “Darling, could you go bring the teacups into the kitchen please?” she asks Draco as he happily obliges. “So, tell me, (Y/N),” she starts when Draco leaves the dining room. “And tell me honestly, where do you see this relationship with Draco going? Is there a future?” she asks, her hands finding yours, giving them a light squeeze, hoping that the answer is yes.

Now this was something you could talk about. “Narcissa, I love your son more than the sun loves the moon. He’s my everything,” you confess to her, making a grin appear on her face. “He makes me the happiest I have ever been,” you tell her simply.

“We do intend on getting married, Mother,” Draco interrupts the conversation as you and Narcissa shoot him a look, letting him know that he ruined the sweet moment between the two women. “Was I not supposed to say that?”

You laugh and shake your head, “You’re fine, darling. But yes, we do plan on getting married immediately after we done with school.”

This makes Narcissa just beam with joy. “Thank Merlin,” she places a hand over her heart. “I was hoping you would say that. I didn’t want someone like Pansy Parkinson marrying my son,” she tells you, causing you to look at Draco as you two both laugh. “Well, just so you know (Y/N), you know that you are welcome to move in here with myself, Draco, and my husband after you finish your education. This home is also your home. Not to mention, I would love another lady in the house,” she tells you with a wink.

Her offer makes your heart glow. When Draco proposed this a week ago, your nerves set in and made you worry. But now thinking about living in the manor with Draco and his wonderful mother only made your heart swell with love and adoration. “Thank you, Narcissa, from the bottom of my heart. It means the world to me that you would open your home to someone like me,” you tell her.

Narcissa furrows her brows and realizes what you were talking about. “Just because you aren’t pureblood Slytherin doesn’t make you any less of a wonderful woman and witch. My son loves you which only makes me love you even more,” she tells you before stroking your cheek with her finger. Her gesture makes you tear up a little bit. This woman radiated kindness and you didn’t understand how you were so lucky to love a boy who had the most incredible woman as a mother.

Draco looks upon the two of you and his heart could not be more full. His mother loved you as if you were her own and he could only imagine how happy that made you. Draco watched the two women he loved have their own moment, a smile plastered on his face. “I hate to do this, but we should really be heading back to school. I have a quidditch match tomorrow and need to rest up for it,” Draco speaks.

“Oh, of course, darling,” Narcissa speaks as the three of you rise from the table. “You know you are always welcome to come home whenever you please. No need to let me know when you are coming. The doors are always open,” Narcissa tells you both. She walks you both to the door and you have to admit, you were a little sad to leave. There was still so much to talk about. Narcissa looks at you and smiles sweetly. “It was so lovely to finally meet you, (Y/N).”

You take Narcissa’s hands and give them a squeeze. “Same to you. You are so lovely, today was wonderful,” you admit as she scoops you into an embrace. “I’m sure we will see each other again soon.”

Narcissa gives you a sweet smile and tells you to send an owl if you were in need of anything. She then looks to her son and cups his cheeks, looking him in the eyes with so much love. She places a tender kiss on his forehead before giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, Mother,” Draco holds his mother in his arms for a long while and you swear you can hear a small sob escape from Narcissa’s lips. She loved this boy so much, it seems like she would break. “I’ll be home for Christmas. Maybe (Y/N) can spend some time with us,” he offers as you shake your head excitedly. You can only imagine how beautifully the Manor would be decorated for the holidays.

The two of you leave the Manor, hand in hand as Narcissa waves goodbye and blows a kiss before shutting the door. You look at Draco and he just laughs. “What?” you ask, slapping his arm. “What’s so funny, you bloody idiot?”

“I think my Mother loves you more than she loves me,” he laughs as you roll your eyes.

“I’m starting to like your mother more than I like you,” you joke as he acts hurt. “Kidding,” you laugh as you kiss him sweetly. “Maybe.”

#draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanficiton #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #slytherin #narcissa malfoy

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favescandis · 3 years

Photo

NEW interview with Alexander Skarsgård about Godzilla vs. Kong and The Northman with Uproxx

Alexander Skarsgard Knows You Don’t Care About Him In ‘Godzilla Vs Kong’

MIKE RYAN, SENIOR ENTERTAINMENT WRITER MARCH 30, 2021

Yes, Alexander Skarsgard is under no false impressions that you are looking forward to Godzilla vs. Kong to see the adventures of his character, a geologist named Dr. Nathan Lind. You see, Godzilla has been causing some problems for humans for unknown reasons and, just maybe, Kong can take care of business and let Godzilla know that his antics aren’t appreciated by means of a knuckle sandwich. And Dr. Nathan Lind has been studying Kong for years and has a good idea of what Kong’s motivations might be and what Kong actually wants.

So, yes … there are times where there is not a lot to talk about when even one of the lead actors in a movie admits people aren’t coming to see him or his character. Though from past interviews, I know Skarsgard has a pretty good sense of humor, so the real questions soon devolved into kind of outlandish fake questions and, luckily, Skarsgard ran with them.

Also, Skarsgard’s next film is The Northman, which is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, he teams with Robert Eggers, which will be the director’s followup to the acclaimed The Lighthouse. Second, it will completely screw up Google searches for True Blood fans searching for Skarsgard’s character, Eric Northman. And, yes, he’s thought about that and wonders how many people will show up expecting to see vampires. (There will be no vampires.)

It’s funny, because just the title of this movie, that isn’t false advertising.

Oh yeah.

Multiple fights.

It’s almost a two-hour-long movie, and it’s like an hour and 55 minutes of fighting.

So what’s this like for you? When you sign onto something like this? Because it’s Godzilla and Kong and they’re going to wind up getting a lot of the attention.

It’s humbling for a narcissistic actor like myself, to be put in my place, to show up on set and know that no one will go to see this movie because I’m in it.

Well, that’s not true. I have noticed over the years you do have a fan base that goes nuts for you.

That’s flattering to hear. But I’m under no illusion that I’m the star of the show and that anyone will go see the movie because they want to see Nathan Lind, the geologist.

The geologist.

Yeah, well, in a way, to be a vessel and a way for the audience to get to know, in my character’s case, Kong, more so than Godzilla, because I’m with Kong throughout the movie. But in a way to not necessarily humanize Kong, but to show a different side of Kong, to show that he has empathy. He’s lived a very solitary, lonely life on Skull Island without social connections, without family. And the thought of him to be reconnected, or to find his family in Hollow Earth is, is kind of the driving force, to reconnect. So I felt like my job was kind of set that up in a way and to kind of show the audience that side of Kong.

Well, you said people aren’t coming to see Dr. Nathan Lind, the geologist. But once here, where you tell me, how you’ve spent the last five years, studying with geologists and following them around and becoming a trained geologist yourself, people will look at this in a different way.

Right? Well, that’s how seriously I take my job.

You threw yourself into it. The last, maybe, ten years, you’ve been studying with geologists, just to know exactly what you were doing in this movie.

It’s just the kind of actor I am, Mike. Even though I play a very peripheral character and no one cares, I still take my craft seriously. And that means a decade of studying geology and living, breathing the character. Just to give the audience that sublime performance that I give in the movie.

When you’re giving the technical jargon during the movie, viewers can rest assured that you know exactly what you’re talking about, because you studied for so long with trained geologists.

Exactly. And they can see that in my eyes, that I’m not lying. I’m not pretending. I’m not acting. I’m not playing a geologist. I am a geologist.

You are a geologist.

Yes.

So when you filmed at Hollow Earth, in the center of Earth, was that on location?

Obviously, it was.

Yeah, I could tell.

And being there was trippy. I felt like you can’t … the audience can tell whether you’re there or when you’re actually there, or if it’s the soundstage with green screen. So the only way to do it, when you make a character driven drama, like Godzilla vs. Kong, is to actually go there and actually spend time down there and be there with Kong. So it was six very intense months, deep down in the center of the earth with a gigantic ape.

That’s why we haven’t seen you in a while — because you’ve been down there.

I’ve been down there, with a gigantic ape.

Being serious, doing the “there they are” reaction seems especially difficult in this movie, with these being such central characters. And I know that’s part of the deal with a lot of movies, but this seems even more that.

Absolutely. Watching the movie, I could tell that I’m reacting to the wrong thing, like I’m reacting to something else. And they play my reaction to something that I think I’m reacting to, but many things have changed. Or they use that reaction to something else. So they kind of make it work. So it’s like, I look at something, and I think I’m reacting to something completely different, but I’m not. They completely changed that. So it’s quite a ride and exciting to watch the movie, because I’m as surprised as the audience. When I watch it, like, “Oh really? That happened.” And, “Oh, look at my reaction here.”

The scene that we all saw in the trailer, which surprisingly happens pretty early in the movie, where Kong just punches Godzilla in the face. So do you watch the movie and go, “If that really would have happened in front of me, I might’ve reacted quite differently than I did even in the movie”?

Well, that specific sequence, they actually had in the pre-visualization, so that actually looks quite very, very, very close to what the previs two years ago looked. So Adam [Wingard] played us that. So pretty much the whole fight scene was choreographed before we shot our reactions to it. So I knew that that punch was going to land, and that’s what I’m reacting to.

We’ve given Dr. Nathan Lind a lot of time, and we’ve given King Kong a lot of time. We haven’t really talked about Godzilla. He gets annoyed when people bother him. I relate to that.

Me too. Going into the movie, I was very much team Godzilla. I love the old Godzilla movies, like the ’60s and ’70s, that era, when it’s zero special effects.

Just a guy in a suit and it’s awesome.

It’s a middle-aged dude in a suit, kicking a miniature version of Tokyo on a set.

In your next movie, you’re working with Robert Eggers, The Northman. You’re done filming that, right?

We’re done. Yeah, we shot for six months during the pandemic. We started last summer and finished just before Christmas.

Did you look at his prior movies and just go, “I have to be part of this.”

Well, I courted him. I loved both The Witch and The Lighthouse. And was developing The Northman and was trying to find a director for it. It was a very different iteration of the script, and the story was very different from what we ended up shooting. But I had a version of a viking movie that I wanted to make and basically went after Rob. He was my dream director and I thought that he would be perfect for this. And that, when I mentioned it to him, it turned out that he was a huge viking fan and knew everything about the mythology.

That doesn’t surprise me for some reason.

Yeah, he knew so much about that world and that era and got really excited about the idea of potentially making this movie. And then he found Sjón, this Icelandic author and poet and screenwriter. And Sjón and Rob together wrote the screenplay to what ultimately became The Northman, the movie that we shot. So it’s something on that was slowly percolating and growing over the course of eight years. So, to finally be on set last year, with the greatest filmmaker of our time and some of the greatest actors of our time, was the highlight of my career, for sure.

Have you thought about how this will screw up Google searches for your True Blood fans?

[Laughs] Yes, I am very much aware of how problematic the title is.

Well, not problematic. True Blood fans are going to have to put in a few other keywords now.

Yeah, that’s true. That’s true. I do apologize for that. And I’m sure some people will be pretty disappointed if they go to see a stand-alone movie about Eric Northman, and then they sit down and it’s a goddamn Viking movie and not a vampire in sight.

I think they’re in for a treat, to tell you the truth.

Well, I hope so. I hope so. I’m very excited about the movie, but I have to admit that, unfortunately, there are no vampires in the movie.

‘Godzilla Vs. Kong’ hits theaters and HBO Max on March 31st.

Photo credited to Getty. [Paris Men’s Fashion Week Armani show, July 2, 2019]

https://uproxx.com/movies/alexander-skarsgard-interview-godzilla-vs-kong-the-northman/

#Alexander Skarsgård #Uproxx #Godzilla vs. Kong #The Northman #Alexander Skarsgard #long post

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thecagedsong · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter.

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Chapter 13: Tunnels

When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for? Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

#Forgotten Light #Bracken #Kendra Sorenson #Brackendra #I love this chapter so much you have no idea #Thanks for being patient #The hyperfixation choses you #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

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Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without.

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him.

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison.

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved.

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?”

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor.

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand.

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father.

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #Kurt Hummel

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swisssadge · 4 years

Text

Illogicalities in Saint Seiya

Prepare for a longish post. n.n

But I guess I just need to get this out. Because some of these are just so god-awful frustrating.As much as I love Saint Seiya - some blaring logic mistakes just HURT. And it hurts because the original series could have been so much more if so incredibly much potential hadn’t been wasted. Not every bad writing or mistake is because it is a child of its time (80s anime and their damsels in distres *glances at Saori*).

So, as you’ll unsurprisingly notice, most points are from the original series. Because the spin-offs don’t suffer from the same amount of logic mistakes and do quite a lot things waaay better. And should I find even more things during a rewatch - prepare for part 2. n.n I hope to hear your opinion on what I wrote, and whether you agree or not.

- What is wrong with the people in Sanctuary? There are two instances I can remember right now: How totally racist they are in the classic saga, and how mean they were the Sisyphus in the gaiden, blaming him to only have received the Sagittarius Cloth because of his brother Ilias’s state as a hero. In the classic saga, I can kinda understand because Saga is at the helm. But in Lost Canvas, Sage is Pope. Why did any of the higher-ups allow such mean people enter the service and Sanctuary of Athena – goddess of wisdom and justice? WHY?! I mean, yeah, the soldiers and Saints are just humans, and humans make mistakes, but come on. They should be at least better than that. Else, I don’t think they deserve to even be in Sanctuary.

- So, the ages… Saint Seiya really got a problem with those. Firstly, 10-year old Shura doesn’t look like 10-year old Shura in that flashback of his fight against Aiolos. Next, I have checked Marin’s age; she’s supposed to be 16 at the beginnig of the series. And she trained Seiya for 6 years…? Dammit, she does look even close to 10 in that flashback when Seiya was brought to her! Besides, she never has the air of a 16-year old in the entire series. And who in their right mind would make a 10-year old teacher to anybody? Then, even though I don’t like it, I have to mention the Crystal Saint. So, Camus is 20 in the anime. Firstly, the Crystal Saint looks so old, that he probably had been older than Camus when he had been his student. Shame we don’t have confirmation of his age. Anyways, I guess Camus must have been thirteen to fifteen at least when teaching him. Geez… what the hell is it with young kids teaching even younger kids? No wonder Sanctuary was crumbling.

- Remember that episode in which the new gruesome training is shown, where people even die? It really questions the Gold Saints‘ intelligence, if they by then don’t wonder if something might be wrong in Sanctuary. And they don’t. It needs the real Athena and five Bronze Saints to open their eyes. -.- Who's high and mighty now, Shaka?

- I really can’t believe none of the Bronze Saints knew of the existence of the Gold Saints. After all, Hyoga (yes, I ignore anime-only Crystal Saint, who may be a chill guy but who only complicates matters and throws logic out the window) and Shiryu were trained by two of them. I can’t imagine their teachers not telling them. Plus, Seiya trained in Sanctuary itself. He’s bound to know, especially considering his friendship with Aiolia. And even worse, do you remember that one or two instances in the anime in which is hinted not even the Gold Saints themselves knew of each other’s existence? How fake Pope Saga acts all surprised and stating in an asking tone that Aiolia is a Gold Saint. And all while freaking Milo is kneeling in front of him in his Gold Cloth. And even Milo acts surprised after the rest of the Gold Cloths are revealed. HOW??? Yeah, thanks for nothing, anime. At least the manga and the new Episode Zero confirm that the twelve Gold Saints grew up together and that they all earned their Cloths prior to Aiolos‘ death.

- Seika and Marin. Seiya’s sister and mentor. There are some issues I have with how several people seemed to suspect Marin being really Seika. Firstly. When would Seika have had the time to become a fully-fledged Silver Saint? She wasn’t even training back in the Kido mansion. Plus, she was still at the Kido mansion the day Seiya was taken to Greece. Remember that scene where she runs after the car taking him away. Oh, not to forget that Seika apparently vanished ONE WHOLE YEAR after Seiya left for Greece. And Marin is already a Silver Saint by the time he arrives there. Seika would have needed to have been in two places at the same time. Also, if Seika was in Rodorio village the entire time: Shouldn’t Seiya have encountered her by chance in the course of several years? I can’t imagine she stayed inside all the time.

- Uhm, in the Asgard arc, Shiryu got buried by the same avalanche as Fenrir. So why did Fenrir die and Shiryu not? Shiryu even was beaten up by his fight with Fenrir, while Fenrir didn’t even have a scratch!

- Um… in Omega… why are there already children of five to seven years training WITH CLOTHS??? I don’t get it. I seriously don’t get it. Where did they get those Cloths from? I mean, I can understand Ryuho, having inherited it from his father Shiryu. But the others? That Lynx Saint friend of Ryuho’s? And weren’t there a little Yuna and a little Soma too – in their Cloths? WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GET THEM FROM??? I seriously cannot imagine any child already earning a Cloth! Seiya had to defeat ten opponents to get his (and was about thirteen at the time). Sisyphus had to land at least one blow against Lugonis wearing the Pisces Cloth, as was probably fifteen-ish to seventeen-ish at that time. So why are suddenly children running around in Cloths?! Isn’t it enough that it is already claimed that the Classic Gold Saints became Saints around the age of 7? Sheesh. I like the idea Teshirogi brought in Lost Canvas far more. Sisyphus was about fourteen or fifteen, maybe sixteen by the time he fought Lugonis for his Gold Cloth. And he was the first, meaning that Aspros and Hasgard were even a little older when they got their Cloths. I don’t get it… I simply don’t get it. Well, at least, in the flashback of his training with Aiolos, Aiolia didn’t seem to have earned the Leo Cloth, and he seems to be six to eight years old back then. Though, duh, it contradicts official statements.

- While writing a fanfic, a strange notion occured to me… Seiya and Cassios were both living with their masters, Marin and Shaina, right? And female Saints are required to never show their faces to any male, right? So… how the hell did they eat? I mean, didn’t they eat together? Because to eat, Marin and Shaina would have to put away their masks. Did they eat first or did they wait until their students had finished? But even so, the cabin’s are small… Seiya and Cassios would have had to look away the entire time their masters were having their meal. Gee… I don’t get it at all. What a shitty image that they shouldn’t eat together. I mean, they do have a bond as masters and students. And eating is part of the package, especially if said master and student live in the same cabin.

- So, in the manga all of the bronze boys are siblings, sons of Mitsumasa Kido. That would mean, Seika is his daughter too. And we know that Kido fathered all those children so that Athena would have Saints at her side. My question: Why did Seika never train? Her being a girl is no excuse to me, because, well, Shaina and Marin. Unless Mitsumasa couldn't bring himself to send girls too. Still… with one hundred children, there are bound to be girls too. And if only the boys were sent, then they used that number rather loosely. Because then there wouldn't have been 100 children attempting to earn Cloths, but perhaps like what, 90, 80, maybe even only 70 or 60? Unless he fathered waaaay more than 100 children and kept going until he had 100 boys. Which would be, frankly, disturbing.

- So, why did Aiolos have to fight any of the normal guards of Sanctuary in the first place? Gold Saints are said to move at the speed of light. And that speed should not be hindered by the barrier over Sanctuary, which only prevents teleportation. So, technically, shouldn't Aiolos have been even well out of Sanctuary before the other Gold Saints had even been alerted?

- So, how did Aphrodite and Shura in Episode Zero already know Aiolos was a traitor? None of the guards could have been able to reach Pisces or Capricorn before Aiolos. Deathmask I do understand – after all, Aiolos had to go through Aphrodite, Shura, and had to patch himself up in Sagittarius. But Aphrodite and Shura? It would make sense if Saga had sent a telepathic message, but: 1., wouldn't that have given his identity away? And 2.: We never see him doing it, only dispatch some guards. So to me, he never did it in the first place.

- We learn from several sources, the latest one being Episode Zero, that Saga was sent on a mission to keep an eye on Poseidon and his activities. That he kinda vanished while doing that. But then he turns up on Star Hill to kill Shion. I ask – how? How was he able to get into Sanctuary without anyone seeing or noticing him? ESPECIALLY if he needed to cross the Twelve Houses. Yes, according to Episode Zero, most of the Gold Saints were absent on their special training. But come on. At least Shura would have been suspicious. Plus, how the hell did nobody notice the explosion of Cosmos when he killed Shion? Unless it is canon that he killed Shion with a punch through the chest. If not, then I don't believe nobody noticed.

- How is it that after the Silver Saint arc, we see nobody train for any Cloth anymore? You should think that with so many Silvers gone, Athena would seek successors. I mean, the war against Hades was drawing close! How on earth did NOBODY think of stocking up their ranks? Not Athena, not the Gold Saints, not even freaking Dohko, who after Shion's passing should be the most experienced one of the bunch. Yes, yes, focus could have remained on the protagonists. But at least a little something? Like one of the Gold Saints traveling around, finding possible new recruits? Some of the Bronzes perhaps helping with training possible future Bronze Saints? Marin and Shaina spar with some Silver Saint trainees? Also, some unused constellations would have made for quite some interesting Cloths and abilities.

- That said – even after all the arcs, at least a couple of other Saints should be alive to fight against Hades and its forces. Right? So why are the only ones we see the ten Bronzes, the Gold Saints, Marin and Shaina? The only answer would implicate Shion has done a real bad job at maintaining Sanctuary, if after all the deaths in the Silver Saint arc, major part of its fighting force is gone.

- And… h-how the hell is Hyoga DRIVING A FREAKING CAR?! At his age?!

P.S.: I think the two most painful points for me are the one with Seika, how she absolutely cannot be Marin, but people still think she might be, and the one where the existence of the rest of the Gold Saints is revealed as this big secret, when it should be known by everyone. Those two blunders... they just hurt. They really do.

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

feel something pt 7 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: dealing with the aftermath of our runaway reader. They say you don’t kiss and tell, but some people just can’t help it. Special s/o to my babe @ohfreyfrey for her help with the end 😇 I heard yall like cliffhangers…

series masterlist

The next day, the potential consequences of your actions set in even further. This isn’t some Romeo and Juliet fairytale, you’re y/n y/l/n, your life was never going to be a fairytale. Plus, that play ended with them dying and you weren’t really into that. Taking a page out of Sarah’s playbook, you start ignoring the larger group, only speaking to Sarah and occasionally Kie. You know you’re avoiding your problems and your feelings for the blond pogue, but the alternative is terrifying.

You’re imagining allowing yourself to completely fall for him and the thought is paralyzing. It’s like handing JJ a loaded gun, showing him exactly where to shoot to kill, and then trusting him not to. You haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. Not since your parents first put their hands on you in anger, not since Jacob Kane touched you inappropriately at a party without your consent, not since Sarah Cameron dropped you without warning. It really scares you, the thought that you were willing to risk that again.

Your parents also scared you. Even if you could get the courage to fall into the unknown without JJ, you couldn’t be open with your relationship. It could never get back to either of your parents, or there would be hell to pay. You were expected to marry rich and marry well. But the thought of spending the rest of your life with a Rafe Cameron or Topper Thornton or Kelce Smith or Jacob Kane made you physically ill. Your parents tolerated your behaviour thus far (if you could consider daily screaming matches and bruises and marks tolerating), but you knew lowering yourself to date a pogue would be the last straw. You didn’t know what they would do, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

It’s two days before the texts start rolling in.

maybank: hey

maybank: just wanted to see if you were ok

maybank: did i do something wrong?

maybank: please talk to me

maybank: i can’t stop thinking about that kiss

maybank: y/n

You don’t know who gave JJ your number but you’re sure it was probably Sarah, who didn’t know when to let things be. You know the smartest thing to do would be to block him, but every time you go to click the button, you hesitate with your thumb poised over your phone and you can never do it. A part of you, one that’s honestly pretty big likes that he’s thinking of you too. It wonders if he feels the same way you do. You’re not stupid, you can acknowledge that he at least likes you a little, if that kiss was any indication. You had felt alive under his touch, with your lips pressed together. That night you had gotten drunk and stoned in your locked bedroom, trying to chase that high but you were right. Nothing would ever come close.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the text messages that you have memorized from the number of times you’ve read them when your door is thrown open. You look up in shock, you had definitely locked that to avoid your parents. Chick is grinning at you brightly, holding up a bobby pin to show she had picked the lock. You don’t really acknowledge her presence, only scooting over on your bed to give her room to sit with you. “Sarah’s really worried about you, you know,” she states, and you just shrug. The two of you sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, before she snatches your phone out of your grasp. You gasp and attempt to pull it from her hands, but she’s a lot smaller and a lot quicker, jumping off your bed and running towards your en suite, ready to jump in and lock the door if necessary. Understanding your odds, you resign yourself to the fate of your little sister reading your text messages and finally figuring out what’s wrong with you.

She looks up at you and gasps your full name, middle name and all, “JJ Maybank??” she screeches. You shush her quickly, not wanting to open that can of worms with your parents just yet. It’s probably a waste of time, if they’re even home they’re likely nowhere near the bedrooms, but still you want to be cautious. “JJ Maybank is the reason you’ve holed yourself up in your room and avoided everyone for four days?”

“Chick,” is your only response, tilting your head as you look at her, eyes silently begging her to stop.

“What’s the big deal, y/n? So what, you kissed a pogue, haven’t you kissed like a hundred boys?” she asks.

“Don’t slut shame me,” you tell her grumpily, “and I haven’t kissed like a hundred people. It’s just…” you trail off, unable to find the words. Or maybe you can find them, you just don’t feel like sharing with your baby sister that you’ve fallen ass over feet over JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god,” Chick says, as something like realization sparks in her eyes, and she stands up even straighter than before and exclaims, “you’re in love with him!”

“What?!” You look at her in disbelief, that was quite a jump from a kiss to love. Your tongue trips over itself as you quickly protest, “Absolutely not Chicklet, that’s actually insane!”

“Is it?” She asks, hands on her hips looking much older than her thirteen years.

“You can’t be in love with someone you’ve only known a few weeks,” you tell her drily, unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, you’ll admit that you’ve got feelings for the pogue, but love? Chick is crazy, love is crazy. That’s not what’s going on here.

“I mean, technically you’ve known him for years.” She rebuts your point.

You sigh deeply, “Okay fine, then you can’t fall in love with someone you’ve only been interested in for a few weeks.”

“So you admit you’ve been interested in him for a few weeks!” She shouts triumphantly, “Wait until I tell Sarah.”

“Chick,” you warn her, “don’t you dare.”

“Your friends are worried about you y/n! I’m not going to lie to them!” She tells you.

“Sarah and Kie will be fine, if you tell them they’ll just go even crazier than they are,” you tell her.

“They’re not the only ones worried, Sarah said they’re all worried. Especially JJ.” She explains, causing your heart to constrict at the mention of JJ worrying over you.

Brushing over the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but ask, “Even John B?” Chicks face falls a little at that, confirming your suspicion that John B still doesn’t think very highly of you. “Right, well tell Sarah and whoever else cares that I’m fine alright.”

“y/n” she says slowly, and the pity in her tone causes your heart to ache. Huffing dramatically, you slide down and under the covers, throwing your comforter over your head.

“I’m fine Chick,” you tell her, voice muffled. You regulate your breathing as you hear her steps near your bed, before she drops what you assume is your phone on your nightstand and then leaves the room, door clicking softly shut behind her.

While you’re talking with your sister, JJ is on the other side of the island in a house that is a lot smaller and less taken care of but has experienced a lot more love, having a similar conversation with the best friend he considers more of a brother.

“What is your problem? You’ve been moping around for two days like someone ran over your dog or something,” John B confronts JJ who hasn’t moved from his spot in the spare bedroom except to eat and use the washroom. JJ can’t really explain, doesn’t want to really explain. He doesn’t need to hear it from John B again about how you are the worst of the worst kook princesses and just messing with him. JJ knows it isn’t true, not that the two of you have ever spoken about it, but from that moment at Midsummers to now, he’s felt something starting between the two of you. Despite initial misgivings, he was wrong about you. Like, really wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ grumbles. Truthfully, he can’t get you out of his head. He had asked Sarah for your number and then proceed to not only text you, but text you five times while being left on read each time. JJ didn’t text girls, he hit it and quit it and dodged texts like it was his third day job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about you. Having been on the receiving end of a parent’s fist on more than one occasion, he wasn’t sure if you were even okay.

He thinks of how you pressed against him, the way your chapped lips felt against his, the soft feel of your hands on his jaw. He thinks of the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms, the slight lilt of hope in his chest that maybe he wasn’t alone in how he felt about you. But then he thinks of the way you froze, saw the panic in your eyes, and felt the ache in his chest as you ran from him.

“Something obviously happened between you and the princess.” John B astutely observes.

“Don’t call her that,” JJ snaps, frustrated. It’s not really John B’s fault, but the mention of the word ‘princess’ just reminds him of when you told him to call you by your name. Reminds him of that afternoon together, when you had firmly cemented your place at the forefront of his mind. When his initial attraction (and yes he was very attracted to you) had blossomed into admiration of your confidence on the waves and your kindness when dealing with Chick. When he had poked at you and entered your personal space and flustered you to the point you threatened to send him through the windshield.

John B throws his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Rafe’s property,” John B tries again. JJ glares at him, body tensing up with unbridled rage thinking of the possessive way Rafe looks at you.

“She’s not-“ He has to pause to unclench his jaw and his fists, swallowing before continuing “she’s not his property John B.”

“She might as well be, the way she hangs off of him. Or are you blind?” His best friend replies.

JJ shakes his head in frustration, pulls his snapback off his head and wrings it in his grasp, “You don’t know what you’re talking about John B.”

John B gives his best friend his best incredulous look, eyes widening comically and head tilting as his hands move away from his brain to mime an explosion, complete with side effects. “Have you actually gone insane? Like, are you feeling okay dude?” John B reaches for his best friends forehead, to pretend to take his temperature, but JJ slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters when he tries to do it again, and that’s when John B realizes things are serious.

“C’mon man, what’s going on?”

“I really like her man,” JJ sighs heavily, “like really like her. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t like girls. I mean, I do, but not like this man. I can’t stop thinking about her. I worry about her and I wonder if she’s okay. She drives me crazy, but like, in a good way. And then I kissed her, and I think I fucked it up.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea and I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when shit blows up,” John B warns, JJ rolls his eyes but nods, indicating for him to continue. “But, I have to ask. Did you tell her any of this or did you just mack on her and hope her wealthy parents bought her the ability to read minds.”

JJ’s silence is telling. He pulls out his phone, unable to stop the small pang of disappointment that you haven’t yet responded to any of his text messages. He can’t help but send another text, texting etiquette or whatever be damned, he’ll text you as many times as it takes for you to reply.

maybank: i just want to make sure you’re okay

seen 2:34 pm

JJ tries to not let the disappointment take root in his chest, recognizing that you need time to deal with what happened, acknowledging the many times he has gone ghost on his own friends, but the insidious feeling takes hold of him anyway. Walking away from John B, he reflects on his best friend’s advice and realizes there’s a lot he needs to tell you.

“C’mon y/n/n, you have to get out of this room,” Sarah tells you. You’ve let her into your house, realizing that you can’t just shut her out completely without her resorting to desperate measures (like enlisting your little sister in her quest for knowledge). It may have been a mistake because she’s spent the last few minutes trying to convince you to go out to a kegger.

“I don’t want to go,” you tell her, despite the fact that your base state of being has been stuck on ‘I could really use a drink’ since that kiss.

“Because you don’t want to see JJ? Because you kissed him?” She asks, sympathetically. You gasp, Sarah has been over for twenty five minutes, and you had assumed her silence on the matter meant Chick hadn’t snitched.

“I can’t believe Chick told you, you can’t trust anyone, not even your own blood,” you said dramatically.

“Chick didn’t tell me, John B did.” Sarah replies, and you’re confused at first, and then you groan.

“Oh my god, I bet he had a lot to say,” you tell her, and she winces a little. You nod to yourself, “Great, that’s great. Is JJ just telling everyone now? Does everyone know?” You can’t help the annoyed look that crosses your face, despite knowing the annoyance is just a deflection.

“Well, I’m sure JJ told Pope, and I may have let it slip to Kie.” You groan audibly, burying your head in your hands. “Listen, y/n, I was sworn to secrecy,” you roll your eyes, knowing Sarah can’t keep a secret to save her life, evidenced by the first half of her statement, “but, JJ told John B that he really likes you.”

You groan louder, “that’s worse!” but your words are muffled by your arms.

“You wanna repeat that in English that the rest of us can understand?” Sarah responds sassily, and you just groan again. She gives you a minute to mull it over before she’s grabbing you by your upper arms and shaking you.

“Hey, get off of me you psycho,” you twist in her grasp, swatting at her hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking!” she exclaims, still wrestling with you

“I really like him!” You admit. She pauses, grip slackening long enough for you to slide out from underneath her.

“Okay, I’m failing to see the problem here,” she replies sassily, hand moving to her hip.

“Sarah, my parents! Their expectations, The Lecture, it can never happen.”

She nods in understanding, considerably more somber than before, before replying, “fuck them.”

“Sarah, come on you know it’s not that easy,” you protest, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

“Fuck. Them.”

“Yeah, and then what? I don’t get my trust fund until I turn eighteen next year, and you can bet they’ll take it away from me if I stray away from the perfect daughter before then. And what about Chick? You don’t think that they’ll take it out on Chick if I just up and leave?” It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, throwing it all away and starting fresh somewhere new. But you didn’t think they would let you go that easily, and you could never leave Chick behind.

“Then we’ll get my dad and Rose to do something,” Sarah continues to protest, but you shake your head.

“Sarah, stop. It’s never going to work, your dad and Rose aren’t going to go against my father.” She sighed in defeat, realizing that you weren’t going to budge. At least not yet.

“Will you please just come to the kegger? Me and Kie can run interference for you.” She pleads, Cameron pout on full display and you roll your eyes before muttering fine. Her excitement makes you smile a little, for the first time in a few days.

You don’t know why you agreed to come. There’s an anxious feeling in your chest as you take in all the moving bodies with red solo cups in their hands. You’re not sure if you’re looking to spot JJ or hoping you don’t spot him at all. Maybe it’s both, you think as you take a small sip of whatever swill is in your own red cup. You don’t know whether you would kiss him again, run away, or maybe both like the last time.

Lost in your thoughts of the blond, Rafe’s hand is on your waist before you even comprehend that he’s appeared at the party. “Heard you’re officially with Maybank now,” his grip is tight, but you’re able to peel his hand from your body.

“I’m not officially with anyone!” You let your many frustrations out on Rafe, without even a hint of guilt. “God Rafe, when are you going to leave me alone? I don’t owe you shit.” You see hurt flash in his eyes, but you frankly don’t care anymore. He is persistent to a fault, and you want to get it through his thick skull for once.

There’s a small crowd around you, mouths gaping, more than one person is on their phone, likely frantically texting everyone your business. You roll your eyes and push past them, dropping your cup on the first surface you find on your way back to your car. You don’t stop to tell Sarah you’re leaving, but you figure she’ll get the memo when she hears about your run in with Rafe, if she hasn’t heard about it already. You’re upset and frustrated, and so supremely grateful that neither your parents nor Chick are home as you stomp up the stairs and throw yourself on your bed. You didn’t need to add Rafe’s gross possessiveness to the inner turmoil running through your head.

It’s a solid twenty minutes of you just staring up at the ceiling before your phone buzzes with a text message. Figuring it’s probably Sarah and you owe her at least a brief explanation, you unlock the phone. But it’s not a message from Sarah. At the bottom of a string of unreplied to messages is a new text:

maybank: i’m outside, we need to talk

Feel something tag list (ily guys sm): @thoughtsofthestars @dreamsndior @duskangxl @agirlwholovescoffee @previouslyforgotten @http-cherries @softtfordrew @gigi-june @httpstarkey @meaganjm @oopsiedoopsie23 @margaritatimebaybee @iamaunicorn4704 @5am-cigarette @kahnacademyforfun @rudths @llvinlavidaloca @arianabrashierstuff @realistic-breadstick @tattered-masterpiece

Everything tag list (yall are rockstars!!): @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @ohfreyfrey @downbytheouterbanks / @gforgenevieve @ilovejjmaybank

if you want to be added to either tag list, just shoot me an ask/message/comment love you guys!! shoot me an ask if u wanna talk about this part or literally anything i love you guys thank u for the support

#jj obx #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank angst #diverdcwn writes #feel something

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bre-meister · 4 years

Text

Family

Weekends tended to be a calm time in the Kennedy household - whenever they could be at least. The family’s weekdays were usually hectic between work, school, dance practice, and art clubs.

Claire would be lying if she said she wasn’t relishing in the quiet as she attended to the dishes in the sink, Isabelle sitting quietly at the table coloring. She could hear the shower going upstairs signaling that Leon had finished working out and would be joining them downstairs soon.

“Mommy, why is Sherry my sister but we don’t have the same name.”

Claire paused. She was both confused and surprised by the question. Most definitely taken off guard.

“What do you mean sweetpea? Everyone has a different name. It’s what makes names special.” she chanced a look over at her daughter who hadn’t even looked up from coloring.

“No Mommy, not my name. My name. Kennedy.”

Claire finished up the last few dishes quickly, placing them in the dish drainer before moving to sit next to her daughter at the table.

She gently places her hand over the picture Isabelle was drawing so the girl would look at her. Such a loaded question caused for more of a serious conversation.

“Kennedy is your last name baby.”

“Ya. So how is Sherry my sister when her last name is...um…” The five-year-old’s face screwed up in thought.

“Birkin,” Claire supplied the answer.

Isabelle hummed and patiently waited for her answer.

“Well,” Claire started before deciding to switch directions, “What brought this on Izzy.”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “We were talking about family at school yesterday and every time all of the family members have the same name. But Sherry doesn’t have our name so I wanted to know why.”

“Well,” Claire tried again, “first of all, just because you’re names aren’t the same doesn’t mean you aren’t related. Uncle Chris’s last name is Redfield but he’s still your family because he’s my brother.”

Izzy smiled at the mention of her much-loved Uncle.

“Sometimes even siblings have different last names because maybe they have a different Mommy or Daddy than their brothers and sisters.”

“So that’s why? Sherry has a different Mommy and Daddy?” Isabelle asked.

“Yes and no.”

The scrunched face of confusion was back. Claire couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You see, Sherry does have a different Mommy and Daddy but they - “ Claire stalled for a moment trying to think of the nicest way to appease her daughter’s curiosity without telling her the whole truth.

“Sherry’s parents they, um… they couldn’t take care of her anymore so me and Daddy kind of took over for them. Does that make sense?”

Isabelle stayed silent but nodded. Claire was a little relieved that she didn’t press for more information on Sherry’s parents.

The shower upstairs stopped and Claire honestly couldn’t decide if Leon would be a help or a hindrance in this conversation.

“But that’s not the whole reason we call Sherry your sister. You see family isn’t just made of the people you’re related to. It’s also made of the people you love. Grandpa Barry and Grandma Kathy? Technically they aren’t related to us but we’re still their family because they love us a lot. And you love them a lot right?”

“Lots and lots!” Isabell responded with enthusiasm.

“And you love Sherry lots and lots right?”

“Uh-huh.” Her small head shook quickly to emphasize her affirmation.

Claire smiled. Pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen into her daughter’s face she asked,

“And you know Sherry loves you just as much. So, it doesn’t matter if you have different names. What does matter is that you love each other. Do you understand?”

“Mhm. Sherry’s my sister because I really, really love her.”

“Right,” Claire stood up and moved to place a kiss on her daughter’s head.

“I love you, Mommy,” Izzy threw her arms around Claire before she pulled away completely. She gratefully returned the hug.

“I love you so much, baby.”

“What about me?”

The two girls pulled away as Leon made his entrance known.

“Do I get a hug too?” He opened his arms.

Izzy wasted no time running to her Daddy, giggling madly when he picked her up and squeezed her tight.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“I love you more, Princess.”

With that, Leon attacked their daughter with tickles and raspberries. Eventually, he put her down so she could show him the picture she had drawn.

Claire’s eyes meet Leon’s over their daughters. His brows furrowed in worry but she waved him off with a kiss to his cheek.

Isabelle roped Leon into coloring with him. Claire moved away from the table to fetch her cell phone on the counter.

“Who are you calling?” Leon asked from his place at the table.

“Sherry,” she answered with a smile. “ I think it’s time we have another family dinner.”

#Cleon #Cleon fic #CLEON BABY #resident evil #sherry birkin #My writing #definition of family #THIS IS MY THIRD FIC TODAY #i'm so proud of myself

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

Grounded: Level 6

Level 5 | Level 7

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @jaehyvnsvalentine @licorice526 @lolwhatameme @felixn-recs @yunapixie

[J U N E 2 0 2 0]

“COOKIN’ LIKE A CHEF I’M A FIVE STAR 미슐랭 "미"의 정점을 찍고 눈에 보여 ILLUSION!”

“Jesus Christ!” Ju Rin screams at all of you, yelling at the top of your lungs as you follow the lyrics and fanchant of the song. “The Hell’s wrong with you people?!”

Minjung giggles until she’s sobbing and rolling on the floor, So Eun and Gahyun take turns singing the lines of the different members while you get to your feet and stretch.

You’re about to head out the studio to the bathroom when Ju Rin calls out to you, casually jogging over to you by the door.

“Before I forget, Bang PD said he wanted to see you in his office tonight.”

The new information strikes an uncomfortable chord in you.

“What? Why? Did I do something-”

“No,” Ju Rin quickly shakes her head, hand coming to rest on your lower arm. “It’s time to make a decision. A real one,” She looks behind her shoulder and at the bunch of girls who were all younger than the both of you before turning back to you. “One that would be forged in your signature and last for the next 7 years.”

Ju Rin’s eyes hold worlds of both caution and wander. This is no longer just a game of “let me see how long more I can train before I think I’m ready”. It has become a fact that the company believes you’re ready, and now they’ll be presenting you with an opportunity of a lifetime. Something that you wouldn’t be able to reverse once you’ve agreed to it.

“He said that if you can’t give him an answer tonight, he’ll understand, but you still need to make a decision after all... So,” She pauses and rubs your upper arms. “Think carefully, and make your decision wisely. I don’t want you to walk into something you’d want to walk out of.”

You’re in the pantry of the floor where it was quieter than normal - TXT had a schedule that day and wouldn’t be spending the day in the studio. The chance of a lifetime’s sitting in the heart of your palms now, all you have to do is to pick up a pen and write your name down before the next 7 years of your life would be planned out for you.

You weren’t sure if you needed someone’s motivation or encouragement to well your bravery for tonight, but you knew for sure you just needed to know someone would be there for you.

You: Hey, call me when you’re free? I just... thought I should tell you something.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hit send and drop the phone back into your pocket. The ceramic mugs by the coffee machine calls out to you, and you run one under the tap when you feel the vibration in your pocket. A smile stretches across your face, pleasantly surprised at the speed of reaction now.

“That was quick,” You flick the mug, water droplets hurling back into the sink.

“What is it? Better be worth it, IN-ie just brought back some fried chicken and any longer I’ll- YAH! DON’T TOUCH MY SHARE!”

A sharp ring echoes through your right ear canal as you pull the phone away from your ear, “My God-”

“Yes,” The man returns to the line. “What was it you needed to tell me about?”

“Are you sure this is a good time?” You place your mug under the coffee machine nozzle and press the cappucino button. “I can call you back later-”

“No, no, it’s fine. We’re having our lunch break anyway. What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”

The steady stream of water, then coffee and milk creates a layer of foam in your mug.

“Ah... Let me guess - It’s the contract.”

“Mm,” The hum might’ve been overwhelmed by the sudden cough and whir of the machine, but it goes back to it’s gentle chittering as the stream slows to a few droplets.

“What are you worried about? You’ve already spent so much time training, not to mention building that bond with your members... Are you the only one that has yet to sign the contract?”

“No, they’re going by position and age. Ju Rin’s the only person who’s signed it and the rest don’t know yet.”

“Strange that you guys didn’t have the signing together.”

“Knowing Ju Rin, she probably wouldn’t have wanted that,” A pause as you process the thought of her being your leader. There was nobody else better to be it than her. “She wouldn’t have wanted anybody to sign it under pressure, so she probably suggested the individual signing to Bang PD instead.”

“Fair,” He pauses. “So, what now?”

“I don’t know.”

“’I don’t know’ doesn’t sound like a great response at this point of time.”

“I know... I just... What if... What if I’m not good enough, you know? What if I mess up along the way and Ju Rin or BigHit’s gotta clean up my shit?”

“Everybody messes up at some point or another. You’re gonna be under constant scrutiny, possibly apologise for things you don’t have to apologise for, but that’s just a small cost you need to pay for pursuing your dreams. You don’t get to paradise without riding the worst storms.”

You wrap your fingers around the ceramic of the cup, carefully pulling a sip of the foam onto your tongue.

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Sorry,” Licking the foam off your upper lip, you snicker to yourself and turn to the door of the pantry, the metallic frame of the doors showing you a version of yourself that you wouldn’t have recognised four years ago.

“Anyway, we both know you’ve already made your decision when you decided to stay for so long, and meet all your members. You’re only hesitating now because you’re afraid of mistakes, so if it makes you feel any better - which I know probably won’t - you will mess up, but it will be okay.”

“Great pep-talk,” You sneer into the receiver end of the phone. Minho’s laughter echoes through the line, and you can already picture his eyes turning into thick, dark lines as he smiles.

“I always be here, alright? Nothing to fear.”

[N O V E M B E R 2 0 2 0]

“I’m not joking when I say I think Gahyun has a crush on Beom,” The drifting dried leaves on the floor crunch under your shoes as Minho turns to you, flicking a small twig out of your now blue-dyed hair. You just had your pre-debut photoshoot, and they were set to be released sometime in 2021.

“Should you be telling me this information?” Minho readjusts his beret, making it fit better on his head while he leads you around the corner and up the stairs to some secret back door.

“Repeating this information to a bunch of girls who already know this information gets boring. Don’t you guys have crushes on like - TWICE or ITZY or something?”

“Oh, that’s a deep grave to dig,” He pushes the door open without hesitation, the scent of grilled chicken and wine hitting you straight in the face.

“Aw, come on!” The whine is cut short when a waiter comes by to tend to you. It wasn’t a surprise when the waiter recognised him, even with all that disguise on. The restaurant was two floors worth, but only the first was open to the public. The second - specially reserved for idols.

Man, the things Dispatch would do to know this place exists and the people idols bring here.

“We’re serving the Christmas specials today because we know a lot of companies are letting idols go for an advanced holiday,” The waiter pulls out two menus from under the desk where you’ve stopped, turning around and gesturing for you to follow him. “I’ll be your waiter for today, so just call for me if you need me.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You offered the waiter a smile, forgetting that the mask was hiding it. The waiter bows and leaves the two of you alone in the corner of the room, allowing Minho to finally feel comfortable enough to remove his mask.

A gasp gets sucked through your throat when you remove your mask, eyes glued to the menu. “Tangerine grilled chicken and steak!”

Minho doesn’t bother to stifle the yawn that was coming out from his lungs, eyes halving into long lines.

“Are you allowed to drink?” You notice the drinks menu, nearly the entire page covered with some kind of beer, soju, wine or sake.

“I mean, I’m technically off work, and all those news sites don’t know this place exists so- as long as I’m not drunk, why not?”

“Very nice,” Scanning the list of alcohol, you decided Minho needed some outlet of release before he goes back to work - also known as being stressed 24/7.

Minho helped place your orders, and instead of the two glasses of wine you had initially wanted to order, he calls for an entire bottle of 1940 Chateau.

The waiter doesn’t seem at all bothered that the young idol was ordering a three-hundred-dollar bottle of alcohol, only focused on noting the food that was spewing off Minho’s tongue. The waiter then thanks the two of you, promising to return with the wine first before he leaves.

Leaning forwards across the table, your eyes frown at him. “Are you nuts? There’s no way we’re going to be able to finish that.”

Minho interlocks his fingers and rests his chin on them with his elbows perched on the surface of the table. “You underestimate me.”

An eyeroll finds you, snorting in exasperation before leaning back in your seat.

“I’m sorry for being busy recently. Pre-debut’s pretty tough.”

“I love how it took you three years before you understood that.”

You roll your eyes again.

“Anyway, how’s work? How are your members?”

“Ah- I bring you out for a nice meal and you repay me by asking me about how much money I earn? Eish-”

“Wha-” Hurling a pack of that alcohol wipes across the table, he snickered when it hits him and lands on the floor. “You’re really full of shit.”

Minho grins that gummy smile of his, pulling off his cap and ruffling his hair after picking up the pack of alcohol wipes. “Work’s fine. Mr Park Jin Young, however, suggested we do a 2PM cover during the SBS Gayo Daejeon festival at the end of the year.”

“2PM? Aren’t their concepts kinda... mature?” The utensils on the table garner your attention as Minho scans the message that popped up on his phone.

“Yeah, so guess what song we’re covering?”

You look up at the hint of pride in his voice, and his cheeks were cupped in his own hands, cutely staring at you.

A disgusted sneer finds your face and you pull one of his arms out from under him to stop the horrid sight. "Let me guess... Again and Again?"

"Wow, you're really good-"

"Aw, thanks-"

"At guessing the wrong answers.”

He flinches when you almost lunge forwards, fork in your grip.

"Why do I put up with you?"

"Because you love me too much to stop," His eyes are filled with playfulness, the kinds that you'd be able to recognise just by looking at his gaze.

"Ew," You don't take into consideration his choice of vocabulary, sitting back down in your seat when the bottle of wine comes. "Don't get too ahead of yourself."

Minho bites on his bottom lip to control the giggle that’s about to explode from his mouth, nodding subtly at the waiter so that he could get the bottle of wine open.

“Anyway, he suggested My House.”

Minho watched intently as your eyes double their original size, with the gentle gurgle of the wine being poured into the two glasses being the closest source of noise. He knows you’re about to burst out into some manic laughter, so he already has his lips tutted and and eyeroll ready to give himself a headache.

“My House?” You can feel your brows going so far up your forehead, it feels like you’re stretching the skin. “Park Jin Young wants a bunch of kids dancing to that song that’s about bringing a girl home and smashing? Ha!”

“Do you have nothing nice to say?”

“Says the one who just dissed me for giving wrong answers,” The waiter closes the wine bottle and places it into the ice bucket on the tray next to the table. Minho thanks the waiter, shaking his head as you take the glass and swirl the alcohol.

“I’ll let you win this one round,” He takes a sip from the wine. “So, I heard about the finalised line-up about your group.”

“Oh, that was a blast,” You offer a hearty laugh, memory unable to wipe away the visual of So Eun being crowned the ‘Centre’ of the group. Everyone had expected Gahyun, the Visual, to be the centre, and frankly, she hated it. So, it was all glitter and fireworks when it was announced Ga Eun be the center, essentially making her vice-Visual. You push your phone across the table, an unofficial and unpublished version of the BigHit website rolled up on the screen.

“Wang Ju Rin, Leader, Lead Vocalist, Sub-Rapper. l/n y/n, Main Dancer, Lead-Rapper, Sub-Vocalist. Choi Ga Hyun, Lead Vocalist, Lead Rapper, Lead Dancer, Visual,” He pauses. “Ga Hyun sounds like a Han Jisung.”

“I see he’s your favourite member today.”

Glaring at you, he takes his time to return to the screen. “Kang So Eun, Main Rapper, Lead Dancer, Sub-Vocalist, Center. Gwang Min Jung, Main Vocalist, Lead Rapper, maknae,” He slides the phone back to you. “Remind me how old the rest are again, besides you and Ju Rin?”

“Gahyun and So Eun are 2001 liners but Min Jung is a 2003 liner.”

“Lovely age gap,” He shakes his head. “Then again IN debuted when he was 16 so I guess...”

“Funny how I was 16 when I was scouted,” You place the fork down, suddenly pulling the atmosphere down with you.

“You talk about this as if you can erase that signature on that contract.”

“No, don’t get me wrong, I know I don’t regret it. I just-” A pause to collect your thoughts. “What else would I be doing other than this, you know? University? Working in some shoddy cafe?”

“What are you- writing a narrative for yourself now?”

“Jesus Christ, will you shut up for once in your life and let me finish my piece-”

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 2 0]

The manager for Stray Kids was busy sheltering you and a few other guests that the members themselves had chosen to be invited to the Gayo Daejeon Festival before the year ended.

TXT was already in the building rehearsing and your trainee-members would be coming later nearer to their performance.

Rain peltering against the black umbrella, the staff struggles to keep you and the other guests out of sight, though you've already been warned by the person who invited you to come in sunglasses and a mask. (Not that it was legal to walk around without one now anyway).

You've met the members’ siblings before, so the situation inside the vehicles were more than comfortable. The staff at SBS hands all of you visitor passes, with your name and the name of the person who invited you printed on the tag. The manager brings the group of you into the studio where the stage was set up, just in time to watch Stray Kids perform a practice round - this time, a cover of 2pm's My House.

"Wah!" Seungmin's sister exclaims and covers her mouth (as if her mask wasn't already doing the job), her free hand landing on your shoulder. "What is Lee Know even wearing?"

It hasn't even caught your attention, because you were so preoccupied with their voice checks. But you heed her advice and search for Minho on stage, eyes falling on someone back-facing you with a half-assed view of his back covered with a miserable layer of net.

"Someone’s stylist felt cheeky today," Laughing under your breath, Seungmin's sister gently nudges you as a response. Minho was fixing his earpiece when his eyes start wandering, and even in the bad lighting off the stage, he could still spot you.

He's waving like he hasn't seen you in months, though you just met him a few weeks ago when his CEO had given them an advanced Christmas weekend vacation.

“Okay, take a fifteen minute break! Can I get I*ZONE, THE BOYZ, Jessi to get ready?”

The members bow and thank the camera men and the director of the event, most of them waving to their guests standing around you. Minho looks to you and waves subtly, sweat sticking his brown hair to his forehead as his breathing calms.

Right now, Minho was doing nothing besides making snot-faces at the camera with that stupid inner-netting piece he’s got that exposes his back.

Sickening, but he knows it works in his favour.

“Everyone in places! We’re filming your fancams for this one too but keep your eyes on the main cameras!”

The members yell out scattered “yes”es and return to their positions, fingers fixing their fits and microphones. The music starts, and you decide you’ll probably never ever get sick of how the whole group is able to snap into professionalism. But of course, your eyes still naturally gravitate to Minho.

He told you over test that he had been given the chorus -- something that his CEO has never really considered. (Minho wasn’t a great vocal; he was more commendable in his dance techniques but he’ll never improve if he’s never given the chance, right?)

You suck your lips between your teeth when you notice his anxiety gets the better of him, and he messes up in the chorus choreography just as he sings “10분 뒤에 저 앞에서.”

He’s definitely going to get annoyed over this mistake later.

Changbin's sister cannot contain the scream that emits out from her when you are let into the Stray Kids’ dressing room. Jeongin rushes to his little brother, hoping to pull him into a headlock. One of the stylists was busy helping Minho remove his blazer belt when he notices you standing behind him in the mirror.

But before he can greet you, Seungmin rushes to your side along with his sister, who drags you away to look at some special edition Stray Kids merchandise sitting in the corner of the room. You shoot Minho a slightly apologetic look, allowing Seungmin's sister to pull you across the room to study the albums and photocards you would probably receive by the end of the year anyway.

Seungmin's sister gushes about the design of the albums, Christmas themed and all with a rather recent and unseen group photoshoot of the group. So it doesn't take long before she's completely occupied in staring at Chan's picture in the album, and Jisung takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation with you.

“Hey! I finally got to meet you properly, I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you well back when you visited with Yeonjun hyung.”

“Oh, no,” You place the album back to the table and turn to Jisung. “It’s fine. I hope the fruit basket was good.”

“It was great, actually. Chan made a fruit salad out of it,” Jisung shoves his hands into his pockets. Your eyes can’t help but glance around the room, and you catch Minho’s eyes flitting away from you and Jisung in the reflection of the mirror he’s staring at.

“So, how are the shots? Pretty cool, huh?”

Your eyes follow his hands that reach for the albums that are still sitting comfortably on the surface. “Yeah, of course. Was it shot in a pre-made studio or was the lounge already set up like that? Colors are pretty.”

“It was a lounge, actually. Downtown in Gimpo. They had a cafe nearby too, and the food’s great. I was wondering if you’d like to-”

"Yah," Throwing his arm around Jisung’s shoulders, Minho was now changed out into a loose, black tank top. Your eyes gravitate down to where his skin is usually covered, but Jisung's sly smirk at you forces you to roll your eyes away instead.

"Oh, yes, Lino hyung?" Jisung has the widest grin on his face as he happily pulls Minho into a hug, even resting his head on Minho's shoulder. It's a strange sight, seeing Jisung suck his lips between his teeth. Better yet, Minho had the most confused look on his face just seconds before he shoved Jisung off him.

“You’re an absolute disgrace,” Minho shakes his head and winces in disgust. “There are better ways to ask someone out, and the first step is to ask the right person out.”

#lee know #lee know scenarios #skz lee know scenarios #stray kids #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #skz lee minho #stray kids lee minho

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glitching-desert-snake · 3 years

Note

“Last time I ask you for a favor!” with some venom sibs! :^)

It 'tis done! 3k worth of venom siblings and some lovely StarParty for ya. Hope you like it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31265705

(appologies if the read more doesn't work smh)

:readmore:

"Order up! Can we get two blue plates and a Destroya special, hold the cactus!" Party called from the booth they're waiting to Ghoul and Kobra in the kitchen.

"On it!" Ghoul called back.

"Hey," a voice said from behind them, tapping them on the shoulder. Poison turned around to see Jet Star and their cheeks flush.

"Did you um need something Star?" They asked

"It's noon so Venom's are off, I can take it from here."

"Right" They hand him their notepad and pen, "Oh the girls over there want just one milkshake to share so make sure Ghoul puts extra in it."

"Got it, have a nice break." Jet smiled and they try not to beam right back, a small wave and they are hanging up their apron and heading outside.

"Heyy, Party Poison." A killjoy was at their heels as soon as they exit the swinging doors.

"And who might you be?" They pause and lean on one leg as the 'joy caught up to them.

"The name's Band Saw, and well- you don't happen to like roller skating do you?" It took Party a moment to hide their curiosity. They didn't care for tricks or anything but you could find them rolling around. Not like Show Pony who was on quads 24/7. But they did know a certain blue haired someone who was dying to learn to skate.

"Say I did,"

"Well would'jya maybe want to come with me to the rink party Pony's holding this weekend?" Party Poison looked up with intrigue but quickly hid it with a long eyeroll, "I would sooner go with you than get my finger stuck in a band saw." The joy recoiled and took a deep sigh, "Oh ok um, nevermind then." they scurried off. Poison felt a twinge of regret but then happily didn't as they looked up to see Kobra Kid leaning on the back wall smirking.

"Don't they know the first rule of The Diner is no flirting with the waitstaff." He chuckled, "I made the rule to get rid of goonies like that."

"Eh, they technically weren't in The Diner when they asked." They noted as the two walked out to the fields.

"I guess. Here, slap up the sun's nice today." Kobra handed them some sunscreen and went to find a spot in the dry grasses to lie down. "Ghoul said Helibomb is going to come by on Sunday to see about the warm water not working."

"Oh the gal who wears heelys everywhere? I didn't realize she did more than just well work."

"Yep, they say she can even roll on her heelys up hill."

"Seems like just a frequency static rumor to me."

"If it's true then I'm taking one from her book for my bike. I don't care if it's magic or what, I want a piece."

"I'm sure you do. Hey Kobra, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Did you hear about Show Pony's gig this weekend?"

"The partner skate? Sure I have, but I'm not planning on going on account of too many love birds in one flock."

Party swallowed and went red even though they knew better.

"Well duh, I know you're not going. That'd be like me walking into the bathrooms at Hyperthrust during a party." They both laughed and fake gagged.

"But man, for all that I'm supposedly talk of the town, apparently I'm also the last to hear about major events." They threw up their hands. "Anyways, think you could be a messenger pigeon?"

Kobra grinned, "Party,"

"Look- I can't go asking myself, I have an image to uphold!"

"A damn bitchy one" Kobra quipped, chewing his lip. "But no, I get it. Who's the lucky 'joy?" he looked sharply into Party's eyes and they quickly looked down.

"You're going to hate me for this." They said with a flush creeping onto their cheeks.

"I'm not gonna be mad Pois, you know that." he said, hugging his knees and looking at them.

"It's Jet Star." They say with a gulp.

"Party fuckin Poison, what to say." Kobra was grinning and shaking his head as he spoke in a sing song drawl, "You pick good ones. Aesthetics? Top game."

"Shut up!" Poison giggles

"And yes, of course I can do the honors for you- but it better be at The Nest because we all remember the last time drama happened while at work."

"Yeah, bacon and avocado do not belong on the ceiling." Party shook their head and smiled. Their face is still hot but they stand up and shake twigs from their jacket. "Thank you for this, Kid, really."

"Oh I wasn't done-" Kobra said, standing up and pointing a finger at them. "Because I want a favor in return."

"Alright shoot,"

"I don't know what it is yet," he said as they began "It all depends how much of a chaotic disaster the ask winds up being." He laughed and the sun glinted on his braces.

"Of course," Party said with a chuckle but they can't help their mind racing with every dismal possibly that could happen.

"So we only sold five milkshakes today on account of the machine breaking, big deal! Helibomb is coming Sunday afternoon, don't stress it Ghoul." Jet was leaning on the table and poking through music to put on.

"You know they're are biggest seller when it's hot out." Ghoul reasoned as he reached for a brush from the couch and worked on undoing his braids.

"Pst, Poison get over here." Kobra tapped his sibling on the shoulder. "I'm not being your wingman if you're just going to hide in the kitchen." Poison gulped and reluctantly drifted into the living room and stuck to the side of the wall. Kobra looked back at them and smiled and then walked over to Jet who was putting Earthling into the cassette player.

"Hey Jet, I've got a proposition for ya." Kobra grins as Little Wonder came on intermixed with static.

"Oh yeah?" Jet tucked a curl behind his ear. Party cringed at The Kid being so formal but couldn't look away.

"Party Poison here wants to go to the skate party at Pony's rink tomorrow night. And they want to know, if you'd do them the honors of being their date." Kobra put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rests a contented look on his face. Jet for his part looked astonished.

"Really?" He asked, with a smile creeping over his face, looking from Kobra to Party and back.

"Yeah- but like, only if you want." Party said. They got themself off the wall and managed to stay standing despite harboring no trust in their legs to function.

"No I'd like that, sound's rad. It's just- man I don't even know how to roller skate."

"Oh"

"But I'd love it if you showed me how." Jet finished and Party beamed

"Hey you should pick some skates from the shoe pile, I think TCM dropped off some that might fit you."

"Oh yeah!" Jet bobbed his head and smiled.

He left to the nest and Party followed after him but not before siding up next to Kobra to mutter, "Thank you," with a breathy sigh.

"'Course" The Kid chuckled, "But remember, you owe me."

"Yeah yeah." Poison smiled as they exchanged their secret hand shake. Poison bounded down the hallway after Jet.

"Hi." Star said, quickly turning around. He brushed his hair back for like the fifth time that day and Poison couldn't help but notice all the freckles that had come out from being in the sun on the walk home from The Diner where Kobra's whispered heckling and teasing just made Party more giddy than they already were.

"Hi" They repeated. They knew enough to not think that something like What's your shoe size? was a deemable conversation but were lost of what to say instead.

"Did you really mean me?" Jet was asking.

"What?" Poison looks at him with concern as they pull out the pile of shoes and start handing skates to Jet.

"I mean like, you really want to go on a date date with me, not just like as friends?"

"I- yes." they swallow and look away, "Jet if you don't want to go that's fine. Just tell me now so I can sort out my feelings in peace."

"What? No no I'm not breaking up with you- I mean I'm not- I'm pastel for you too, Party." It's Jet's turn to look away but Poison drops a skate in their lap to stare at him. "I didn't think you felt any way for me, I mean you're Party 'I insult everyone' Poison, I never thought you'd like someone like-"

"I don't insult every one." They interject with a sigh. "You and Kobra both on top of me over this." They shake their head, Ghoul understood the need to cover everything up and keep things safe with a shell of spite but Kobra and Jet would just zip shut over anything touchy. Well, or punch your lights out if it was Jet.

"Wait a minute, what were you going to say?"

Jet turned slightly towards them, "I didn't think you'd like someone all well, quiet n' stuff. Man, I come home from work and then just work on my bots whiles you off partying the lights away."

"Pff Star, you think I go to parties to pick up 'joys to date?"

"I mean, yeah?" Jet looks at them confused as he puts on another skate, "Think these fit." he said absent mindedly, still looking intently at Party.

"Star, I go to parties for the music, for the friends, and yeah maybe sometimes to blow off some adrenaline without a raygun, but I-" they stuck out their tongue slightly as they slipped the lace into an eyelet, I don't take people home from parties and I'd never fuck anyone, ever they want to say but instead just mutter, "I don't go to the club for crushes. And besides, I didn't think you liked me. Whyd'ja think I sent The Kid to ask for me."

"Party what do you mean! How could I not be pastel for your smiles and when you wear tank tops while tagging up the radio station, or skirts out to parties, and the way you get all nervous before reading."

"Okay now that's just not fair. You're so cute when you're covered in motor oil and showing me your bots, not to mention how sharp of a shot you are both at darts and dracs. But also you know you make the best milkshakes this side of the radiation pools."

"Stoop now you makin me all melted." Star shoves them and laughs,

"Not before you did!" Party retorts and they dissolve into a fit of laughter.

The following night Party and Jet rode down to the rink. The lights were bright and the pizza was pretty shitty but it was ok. Jet told them about his plans to try to make a drone while Party tied his skates for him. They stepped out on the rink and skated in a small circle then rolled back to the edge where Jet was still standing on the carpet. On other days they would stare at the black and bright colored carpet wanting to look like it but they knew Jet was just scared.

"If you fall, I've got you." They whispered in his ear and he looked up. Poison hadn't seen Star actually scared, not since ray blasts streaked the sky. He stepped onto the rink and diligently kept his feet exactly parallel.

"Here see, you skate like this." Party kicked off and skated a few feet, then turned and slid back to Jet.

"Here goes nothing." Star said and tried to put his feet into a V like theirs. He started to pick up his foot but fell off-balanced onto Party who hit the rink on their wrist guard. Star was mortified but his body was so close, Party reminded themself to breathe. They ran their hand along his arm.

"Hi" they breathed

"I suck at this for real." Jet groaned and then took their hand. Party got onto their feet and pulled Jet up to standing.

They spent most of the night very close to the nice friendly padded wall. Party showed Jet how to get comfortable on his skates and every once in a while left him on the shore of the rink to practice a spin or skating backwards.

"Now you're just showing off." Jet laughed as Party vogued to the song playing.

"C'mon you can at least do this." They insisted and rolled their wrist against their neck. Jet was much better at voguing than skating, shaping his face square and sweeping circles in the air. Party watched with a quiet smile intently trained on Jet, watching him slowly get more confident until the fear from the beginning of the night melted away.

Eventually Jet did manage to skate without holding onto anything, only to realize he didn't know how to stop. Veering towards Party, he pressed them up to the wall. Poison just laughed.

"Can I kiss you Star?" Party asked

"Only if you show me how to stop after." Jet smiled and Party pressed a kiss to his cheek. Jet held onto the wall as Party kicked off into a simple forwards skate.

"Point your toes and bring your legs together." Party half shouts over the music. Jet takes a couple of tries but eventually gets the hang of it. He skates up to Party and stops right in front of them. They hold his hands and he kisses them. Poison flips up to stand on their heel stops and leans into him. When they finish skating Jet's legs are shaking. He thinks it's on account of it being his first time skating. Party can't tell if it's from skating or being on a date with Jet. But really it's all three mixed into a wavering walk home bubbling with laughter and then dying down to quiet murmurs on the wind.

"So, what's your revenge against my innocent little ask?" Party said with their hand on their hips and a sarcastic lilt in their voice.

"You know how little Mr. Tommy Chow Mein's got that one spot on the back shelf that damn no body supposed to touch?"

"Oh noo, what about it."

"Well, I've been peeping this helmet he's got up there, right? And I think it'd be perfect to go with my wheels now that I have some races under my belt as Lucky No. 27 this dinky BLI helmet got nothing on the other guys. I want you, with all that charisma you got packed away in there, to get it in my hands."

"Oh come on Kid, it's TCM! I can't just walk up to our used-to-be-dad and ask him to sell me contra!"

"It's not actually contraband though, red." Jet Star chimes in from where he's listening bemusedly to the venom siblings. "Hand me a hair tie would you Ghoul?" he asks Ghoul, who's patiently getting his hair braided by Jet.

"I got 50 carbons you can use for bartering."

"Oh sure that'll help but it's still the no sells shelf. And TCM isn't pastel for you like Mx. Propulsion here." Ghoul said with a smirk and Jet flicks hair in his face.

"Alright alright, I'll try but no promises alright Kobra."

"What? Just try, that's BS."

"Hey I didn't know if I'd be getting a joyfriend or not out of your favor, I don't know if you'll be off with a helmet or not."

"Fine." Kobra said in a drawn out whine.

Poison grabbed the ring of carbons and Ghoul tossed Jet the keys to the Trans Am.

"You're coming too?" Party asks as Jet leaves with them

"You know I want to see how this plays out." He said with a laugh and Party rolls their eyes.

"Make sure they're putting in effort, I want that helmet next sunrise race!" Kobra called as they left.

"Heyy Tommy C! How's it hanging?" Party said

"It's hanging like a plastic bag in a 'crow's nest- what do you want Party?" Tommy shuts off whatever audio drama he'd been listening to and leaned on the counter looking down at Party.

"Jus' wanna talk, that so bad?" Tommy just rolled his eyes.

"Look are you buying something or just here to make me change the station. I've heard enough of your rants, I'm not turning on the radio my books are just fine."

"So listen, I was just wondering about that helmet you got over there. It's pretty bonus track and a uh, associate of mine was looking into it."

"This is not the helmet you're looking for." TCM said and a wave of calm washed over Party. They were immediately confused, they were never this calm. There was something they needed but it wasn't here. Wait of course it was. Jet wouldn't be standing in the corner watching the whole scene amused if it hadn't been for Kobra. What was it about Kobra? He wanted the helmet right. It took half of Party's effort just to remember this but then he was at it again.

"Where'd you get it anyways?"

"A long time ago. It's very old, your sibling doesn't want it."

"Oh yeah?" That pang hit their thoughts again but they kept going. "Where'd you get it?"

"No where near here, a galaxy far far away, you could say."

"Well look, since you already know it's The Kid who's trying to get his hands on it what do you even have against him?'

"Yeah, Jet pipes up- me and Ghoul were the ones always pulling pranks on you. He didn't do nothing to you."

"Let me do this, it's not your trade." Party said, putting their hand on Jet's chest.

"Fine." Jet sighed and went back to browsing the zine rack.

"The Kobra Kid can't have my helmet, and no one else can either."

"Ok but what if I gave you 50 Cs?" Party asked, stifling the blow to their train of thought.

"Agh! Why don't these work on you rascal?" Tommy threw down his sunglasses in annoyance. "Fine you want to know about this helmet. I got this helmet pod racing until my rival decided to blow out my hyperdrive frequency and led me to crash land by ship on this measly planet. And then what? Jammed radios from a certain somebody meant I couldn't fly anymore. Set up shop instead, an the rest's history.

"But you know what? If it's useless to me, it's just as useless to you and yours." Tommy sighed and took the carabiners of 25 carbons each and slid them onto the rods in his cash register and begrudgingly passed the helmet down to Party.

"Kobra! We're home!"

"Did they get my helmet?" Kobra asks as he runs into the nest.

"Sure did! Diligently and without help from yours truly." Jet reported back and kissed Party quickly on the cheek to the return of a grin on their face.

Kobra ran over and took the helmet from Poison and immediately put it on.

"Uh Party?" He waved his arms around

"Do you like it?"

"Pois, I can't see a thing." Kobra took the helmet back off and examined the front, realizing that not only was GOOD LUCK painted across the entire screen but the inside was also painted black.

"What the-" Party grabbed it from him and put it on, only to find completely darkness and if they crossed their eyes, a bit of shine to the paint.

"Man you get a joyfriend and I get a fuckin useless helmet!? Last time I ask you for a favor!" He pouces onto Poison and they topple onto the couch, wrestling each other until it dissolves into a pillow fight.

#snake writes #this was so fun to write #ask to tag #jet star #party poison #kobra kid #ttlotfk #ttlofk #danger days #starparty #jetpoison #answered aks

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Text

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER TWO: FRIENDSHIP

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x Reader Word Count: 2839 Rating: T - racism, references to the plot of Bad Samaritan, mild language A/N: I’m trying to balance covering a lot of time so that this doesn’t end up 20 chapters of the same thing and I never get to canon events and also getting some good, specific moments in, so hopefully this works...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Time passed. You found yourself settling into a surprisingly easy friendship with Derek, though not one without it’s frustrations, and certainly not one that looked like friendship at all from the outside looking in. On more than one occasion, Sean had poked fun at each of you, though never in front of the other so they were aware, calling you out for flirting and playing hard to get.

You hated him for being right and refused to admit that it was what you were doing. Your stupid schoolgirl crush on your cousin’s best friend wasn’t something you wanted to acknowledge.

Nino’s had been abuzz for weeks with the news that the restaurant had been booked out for a re-election campaign event for the mayor of Portland, and now that the night had arrived, excitement had turned to panic. Nino had fretted constantly about every detail, from the amount of food and wine available to their arrangements on the plates. He had forgone setting up a buffet table for the cocktail and hor d'oeuvres hour in favor of what he thought was the much more high-end system of servers circulating with trays. And now two of the servers had, at the last minute, called in sick.

“There are not enough people!” Nino was exclaiming. “But I cannot set out a table now! We would have to rearrange the whole room!”

You had only just arrived, stepping into the chaos from the street like passing through an invisible barrier. One that at least part of you wanted to turn around and cross back over again.

“You need servers more than valets tonight, why not ask those two boys to help?” one of the kitchen staff suggested.

“That’s really not how their contract works,” you muttered, even though you knew it didn’t really matter in the end.

Nino looked thoughtful and turned to you. “Do you think they’d do it?”

Sean and Derek weren’t even there yet, and wouldn’t be until almost opening, so it would be a gamble, unless Nino could get them to pick up the phone. Plus they didn’t have appropriate service uniforms to your knowledge. Which meant that Nino had to either change everyone’s outfits or hope he had spares somewhere in the restaurant. Not to mention, there was no guarantee they’d even be willing, and since they were hired as valets (technically Nino’s had an account with their business, but since it was the only one so far and they didn’t really seem to be actively searching for more, he may as well have hired them directly), they weren’t obligated to do anything other than park and retrieve cars.

You sighed. The only problem with working with family was that you were expected to be able to know Sean’s thoughts on things, as if you were some kind of mind reader or expert.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “But they both have a lot of respect for you, so it can’t hurt to ask.”

That was a lie. It could hurt. Saying no would make things awkward, saying yes would cost them a night of tips and...extracurriculars which you chose to actively not acknowledge. But the latter was probably best, since pulling their usual tricks on the mayor, his donors, and his powerful friends would be asking to get caught and spend the rest of their lives in prison.

“Great!” Nino hurried off to the phone as if you had said they would help without a doubt.

“Where is your tie?” Nino asked, gesturing, appalled, at Derek’s bare collar. “I told them to find you a tie. You’re not dressed properly. I can’t let you be seen like that!”

The whole staff was gathered around in the lobby for some sort of pep-talk/debrief and assignments before the doors opened for the big event. Nino was checking every detail like a hawk, jittery with nerves. The kitchen guys were anxious, not sure why they’d been dragged from their stations to the front of house, acting like a crowd of kids that got called to the principal’s office. Everyone else was casual, mostly gossiping over who they thought would be there, hoping for a political scandal to break before their eyes.

Derek held up a length of black silk. “You got any of them clip-on kind? I’ve never worn one before, so I don’t know what I’m doin.”

Nino sputtered. You rolled your eyes, stepping up beside him.

“I’ll take care of this, Nino,” you offered, gesturing at Derek’s entire self, and he had the nerve to look offended.

He nodded, turning away in a hurry, radiating nervous energy, looking for the next crisis. Finding none, he started in on his speech about how tonight was the most important night in the restaurant’s history, how he was proud to have such a dedicated staff. Then he dismissed everyone, listing off assignments as they scattered. You half listened, turning to deal with the problem of Derek’s tie.

“Hey, thanks,” Derek said quietly, offering you a half smile.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you answered. “Nino’s a better boss than most are ever lucky enough to have. It’d be a damn shame for him to drop of an aneurysm because you don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Well I guess that means I’m in your hands.”

You smirked at the idea, ignoring Sean’s waggled eyebrow out of your peripheral. Derek noticed, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“You’ve seriously never worn a tie before?” you asked, taking the garment from him.

“No. Why would I? I don’t exactly get invited to the kind of places you need one.”

“Right…” you sighed, stepping closer, throwing the material over your shoulder to free your hands. “Step one is fully close your dress shirt.”

Your fingers darted nimbly, closing the tiny white buttons, ghosting over his throat and making him swallow nervously.

You continued to describe each step as you took it, looping the tie around his neck, trying to teach him what to do. But he couldn’t focus on your words, not with you standing so close that he could feel the heat radiating between your bodies.

“And voila. Tie tied. And if someone really wanted to, you have an easy way of killing you around your neck for fashion,” you joked, brushing the fabric smooth. Your hand lingered against his chest for a moment, for reasons you couldn’t explain, before you stepped back.

Silence hung in the air.

“So I’m all set then?” he asked finally, blinking as if coming out of a daze.

“You’ve got to button your vest too, but I assume you can figure that one out for yourself.”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, beaming at you. “I’ll give it a try.”

You laughed along with him, trying not to think about how handsome he looked, dressed up like this. Not that he wasn’t handsome all the time, even in baggy jeans and a hoodie, but the formal black and white uniform suited him. You frowned, annoyed with yourself for letting your thoughts stray down that path.

He finished buttoning the garment and spread his arms, gesturing to himself. “How do I look? Pretty good right?”

“Not bad,” you said with a smirk and an effort to keep your voice casual. “Someone nicer might even say you clean up good.”

Suddenly his arm was around your shoulders and he leaned in to your side with a charming smirk of his own.

“Maybe they would, but you know I’ll take a ‘not bad’ from you over that any day,” he said with a laugh.

Before you could respond, he sauntered off, leaving you to glare and gape at his retreating back.

Derek couldn’t help himself. He was supposed to be walking around the room with this tray of shrimp puffs - or whatever rich people food Nino had assigned him, he was pretty sure it was shrimp puffs - and offering them to the guests. Instead, he was just standing in one spot, tray held out absently and teetering every time someone brushed past him, watching Y/N. She wove effortlessly through the clusters of men in pressed suits and women in silk dresses that rustled when they moved, smiling easily at them as she offered them champagne or wine. Even from a distance he could see the sparkle in her eye that made each person she spoke to feel like they were special, and as a result scored her numerous ones and fives left behind on her tray when they picked up a glass. His fingers itched to brush aside the piece of her hair that escaped its updo and danced across her temple, tucking it back into place behind her ear.

He felt a quick flash of guilt as he traced the shape of her body in her uniform, the black vest hugging every line and curve. He shouldn’t be staring, he thought. After all, she was Sean’s cousin and Sean was his best friend. And she was a friend, these days; you don't ogle your friends. But damn if she wasn’t hot, if he didn’t want her. His mind wandered, and he was just starting to imagine what her lips on his might feel like, what she might taste like - she had smelled like apple pie earlier when she was standing so close to him, when he’d been too chicken to make a move while he had the chance, and part of him hoped kissing her would taste like it too - when fingers, covered in too many rings and jingling from the stack of bracelets on the attached wrist, snapped in front of his face, startling him and dragging him back to reality.

“Are you even listening to me?” the woman demanded before raising her voice and slowing her words, over-enunciating each syllable. “I said I want your vegetarian option.”

“Uh. All I got are these shrimp things,” said lamely. “But my buddy Sean is around here with some mushrooms, I think. With like spinach stuff inside?”

She huffed, glaring and waiting and not saying anything.

“I'm sorry. I'm not—”

“Very intelligent. I can tell. I want you to bring me a plate with vegetarian appetizers. That means no meat. Nothing that was alive. And I want a selection, not just dumping all the same thing in a pile.”

As her voice got louder and her words even slower, it started drawing stares from the rest of the guests. He bristled at her tone, feeling his neck get hot as embarrassment and anger mingled. He knew why she was speaking to him like that. She wasn't the first.

He took a slow, deep breath. Getting angry would just play into her hand and make things worse. Before he could say anything, like maybe some remark about how plants used to be alive too, they just never had faces, Y/N appeared at his elbow.

“Derek! There you are, I've been looking everywhere,” she exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking what she was up to, and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach at the idea she’d been looking for him.

“Nino said there was a problem, with the...thing and unless we want the guests to just be eating tiny hors d'oeuvres all night, you have to go talk the chef down from quitting over it.”

“What?” his face scrunched in confusion as he turned to Y/N.

She rolled her eyes (he kind of loved how often she did that) and plucked the tray out of his hand smoothly, fingers brushing briefly against his, sparking under his skin like a hotwiring a car.

“The thing. In the kitchen,” she said pointedly, like it meant anything. Then she turned to the woman, the largest, fakest smile he had ever seen on her face.

“Right...I’ll uh...get right on that…” he said helplessly.

“Sorry about that ma’am,” she lied to the woman, voice sickly sweet as she led the woman off. “He’s a culinary genius, but Nino likes to shake things up and keep the staff on their toes.”

“Oh,” the woman said, seeming surprised by the shift. “I just assumed...because he was one of them.”

“One of who?” Y/N asked, feigning confusion now though he could see that her eyes were hard and ice cold. Her smile took on a knife-sharp edge and he found himself grateful that it wasn’t being turned on him.

“Well. You know…”

“I’m sure I don’t. Because I can only think of one thing you might be trying to say. And I know you wouldn’t be so blatantly racist,” her voice got just a little louder, pitched toward the people around them, not the woman she was talking to, “at an important event like this. Would you?”

Derek chuckled and tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants, making his way to the kitchen. It might have been a fake reason, but he figured he may as well take the few minutes break it gave him anyway.

“Hey,” you said, dropping into a chair next to Derek, finally catching a short rest while the guests transitioned from one part of the evening to the next and found their seats for speeches and dinner. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah,” he said quickly, pretending that he had just been zoned out in order to cover for the fact that he was staring, again. “Just exhausted. Is this what it’s like for you every day?”

You chuckled. “It’s not usually quite this intense when we just have a few tables each to focus on. I think serving tables in a bit will be a better idea of that. But I meant about...you know...earlier.”

He made a face of confusion.

“The hag with the cheap perfume and the stupid attitude?” you offered.

“Oh that,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it. She was pretty tame, compared to some.”

“You know that’s the opposite of reassuring right? And not really an answer to the question.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “Probably for the best. She’s probably a senator or their wife or something, and something tells me bitchslapping a public figure is a negative on the Character and Fitness review.”

You scratched the back of your head in a(n adorably) sheepish gesture.

“The what?”

“The thing where I spend all this time on a degree, and in the end it all comes down to one insane bullshit test and a review of my personal history. And a bunch of stuffy old men, and women these days, decide if I’m an acceptable fit for the esteemed legal profession.”

“Legal...I didn’t know you were trying to be a lawyer?!”

“Duh,” you rolled your eyes and dropped your voice. “Why do you think I keep telling you and Sean not to get caught yet. I’m useless to you for another year, at least.”

“You didn’t have to step in like that,” he said after a long pause. “I could have handled it.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.”

“Then why’d you get involved?”

“Just because you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should have to,” you shrugged. “I could tell you were uncomfortable. I thought I could help.”

You let your thoughts race. Had you done something wrong in trying to divert the conversation and give him an out? Did you accidentally make things worse? Was there something else you should have done instead?

“I’m not mad,” he said reassuringly, noticing the nearly panicked expression that danced across your face. “I just don’t usually get people doing that for me.”

“Well, what else are friends for?”

There was the at word again, he thought. The thing he didn’t want to destroy, but that stood unnavigable between you. He didn’t know what he was doing. This was new territory for him. It didn’t help that the line was blurry. What was real flirting and what was joking? Sometimes you made him feel more confident than ever, and then seconds later you left him drowning, insecure and flustered. Maybe this was the moment to ask, you had left the door cracked open just enough for an opportunity.

Sean caught his attention, waving him over. He realized with a start that they hadn’t talked all night, for the first time in a long time. The door clicked shut, another chance lost.

He turned to say something, and you waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a wink and a smile that made his heart flip. “I’m not interested in monopolizing your time. Besides, if I start now, I can probably pop in a quick 10 minute nap before we have to start running the first course.”

He watched you settle further, crossing your arms over your chest and close your eyes, either to continue the joke or to actually do what you said and shook his head fondly, before sauntering off to join Sean on the other side of the room.

#is this self-indulgence/projection? absolutely #but you know what #in reality all that is just window dressing #it's about the yearning #because this fic is going to be a slllllooooooow burn #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic #Idiot (Affectionate)#overuse of italics probably #also possibly the worst title I've come up with to date

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

Brian Zvonecek x Reader Wake Up

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, childbirth (from both animals and people), mention of miscarriage, mention of infertility, mention of fear and insecurities about not being able to get pregnant, it’s really not as angsty as it sounds I’m just being careful, fake Instagram post at the end

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up to”

“Well, we’ve been married for seven years so I should hope so.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“I do.”

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After Brian went to work you dropped your daughter Sasha off at school before heading to work yourself. You weren’t a first responder, you were a doctor technically, but not one for humans. You work at the aquarium as a veterinarian. It was an interesting job, you were always up doing something interesting. For example, as you were performing an ultrasound on a guitar shark, all that you could think about was how your mom had wanted you to be an accountant. “And there’s the heartbeat, there is at least one pup in there. I’d like to check again in a month or so, there hasn’t been a lot of research done on these guys so I don’t know how long gestation will be, or even how many pups she’ll have in total. Let’s get her back in the exhibit, I’ll set up another appointment. And her handlers? That’s you- and you? Okay great, we’ll need to up her allotted food. I think just straight up doubling would be best, if that seems like too much you can dial it back, and if it seems like too much page me, got it? Good.”

You still smelled like seawater and blubber when you got home to a tea party in your living room. The sight of four massive firefighters wearing tutus and costume jewellery all while crammed into tiny chairs at a tiny table always made your day. “Hey guys, mind if I steal a lemon square?”

“Mommy you’re home!” Sasha tackled you as well as a five-year-old could. “Is Halo pregnant? Is she?”

“Yes, she is. There is at least one baby on the way. There are probably more though because...?”

“Guitarfish in the wild have six babies on aberage!”

“That’s right! Look at you, getting so smart!”

“Yeah, soon you’ll be smarter than me.”

“She’s already smarter than you, Brian.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not nice uncle Sevy. No more cookies for you.” Kelly looked genuinely hurt at the punishment Sahsa had dolled out on him. “But they’re chocolate chip. Chocolate chip is my favourite.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been mean to daddy.”

“I’m gonna go shower, you guys continue with your tea party.” You left with a wink and a kiss on Sasha’s forehead. Brian got this soft look in his eyes as he regarded the two of you, and in the back of your mind you weren’t surprised. He’d never been shy about wanting two or three kids, you’d just been delaying it a bit because of how labour intensive your work was. And there was the added danger of what could happen to a fetus under lots of water pressure when you went diving into the large, and deep, exhibits. But you didn’t want to put off the discussion any longer, if you were being honest, you wanted more kids too, and there was already going to be quite the age gap between Sasha and any future sibling(s). You thought about how to bring up your points, your concerns as you stepped out of the shower into the steam-filled bathroom. Ultimately, Brian could not and would not force you to have another child. If you didn’t want another, he would leave it at that because he understood where most of the labour in the reproductive system lay.

Kelly, Matt, and Joe were still in your living room hanging onto Sasha’s every word. Every few seconds Sasha would slap on of Kelly’s hands away from where it was creeping towards the cookie plate. You spotted Brian in the kitchen, prepping a roast pan of potatoes, carrots, and sausages for dinner. You slinked up to his side and kissed his cheek. “Mhmm, you don’t smell like whale anymore.”

“Gee, thanks. What a way to make your wife feel special.”

“I’ll just put this in the oven and then dinner should be ready in forty-five minutes. Why don’t you join the princesses and I’ll set the table.”

“How about I set the table, you finish cooking dinner, and then we leave the princesses alone for a minute and we have a talk in private?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Then sure.”

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You two had stepped into the guest room, Brian slightly confused. “Is everything okay? And why are we talking in the guest room instead of hours?”

“How would you feel about turning this room into a nursery- I’m not pregnant, but what if we started trying to have another kid?”

“I- are you sure? I mean, I know with work-”

“Brian, I want another kid. Truthfully, I’ve felt bad putting it off this long, creating such an age gap.”

“Hey, you were doing important research that revolutionized-”

“I know, Brian. I don’t regret it, I’ve just felt bad. I see how some of the Hermann Horde are closer than others and a lot of it is due to age. They’re at different stages in their life so they never get the chance to have the same interests or go through things together the same way.”

“You’re thinking about it the wrong way. Sasha will be able to advise them on so many things in ways we just can’t. And she’ll be the cool older sister because she’ll know different things and have different freedoms. They won’t fight as often because they probably won’t like the same toys or clothes, Sasha will teach them how to deal with us, I mean they might not be close at first, but they’ll have such a great relationship when they get older.”

“Sasha is going to be amazing big sister.”

“Without a doubt.”

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It had been ten months. You still weren’t pregnant. Honestly, it was stressing you out. What if you couldn’t get pregnant now? What if you waited too long and some problem popped up and now it was too late? You could tell it was wearing on Brian, too. “Mom? Are you okay? You and dad seem... Off lately.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re both okay, don’t worry honey.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Sasha didn’t look convinced as she walked into her school, but you let it be. You took a moment to ground yourself in your car before driving to work. You loved your job, absolutely loved it, but diving was your favourite part and you couldn’t do that while trying for a baby. Once you said you were taking a break from it all your co-workers immediately assumed you were pregnant again. You’d gone from joyful suggestive looks and hugs to pitiful glances and concerned pats on the shoulder. It was grating on your nerves and insecurities.

Today Melody, a harbour seal, was predicted to give birth. Everyone was on edge. Sometimes these things happened on schedule, sometimes they didn’t. But regardless you remained solely on-call for the perky seal. And while desperately hated to admit it, you were jealous. Of a seal. Who gets jealous of a seal? What kind of person did that make you?

You were brought out of your reverie when Melody plopped her head in your lap. Her eyes soulful. Worried. Was the labour starting? You did another check, and she was. You yelled for your assistants.

Poor Melody, she was in pain, and you could tell she was nervous. This would be her first pup, and even mothers got nervous about their first borns, you supposed. You made sure to stroke her head when you could. “Don’t worry Melody, everything will be okay.” The birth had gone smoothly, Melody and her currently unnamed pup were doing well when pain ripped through you. It was as it someone took and electron pole and buried it in your abdomen. You screamed and fell to the ground. The pain you incurred from hitting your hip and your head on the ground were nothing in comparison to what was going on further down. Oh no, what if I am pregnant and I’m having a miscarriage? The pain stopped but only for brief moments and the only time you could remember feeling anything close to as bad as this was minutes before giving birth to Sasha.

Everything was a blur of distressed seal noises, salt water, splashing, screaming, and sirens. You came back when Dr. Manning gave you you’re diagnosis. “That’s- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- not- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“It’s called a ‘cryptic pregnancy’. I know it doesn’t feel real because you didn’t go through a normal pregnancy, but you are in labour. Don’t worry, Maggie’s called 51, Brian is on his way.”

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“Y/N! I’m here- what’s going on?!”

“So- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- as it turns out I’m pregnant.”

“Actually she’s in labour.” Doris bluntly spat at Brian, she raised her eyebrows and pulled her lips into a line, all of which conveyed just how much she was judging you poorly at the moment, the next bucket full of gossip for MED churning in her head.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU KNOW WHAT DORIS, MOST WOMEN HAVE NINE MONTHS TO PREPARE FOR GIVING BIRTH AND I’VE HAD LESS THAN AN HOUR SO SHUT THE FUCK UP, GET OUT, AND STAY OUT! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” You honestly felt like you were dying, and the absolute last thing you needed was a catty, gossipy nurse making an already life altering and stressful moment more so. She quickly bolted out of the room, April taking her place. She was quiet, subdued, clearly thinking of her failed attempts at getting pregnant. And while you felt awful for her, you were immensely grateful for a nurse that wasn’t Doris. “I’m right here, honey.”

“You smell like smoke.”

“You smell like fish.” Him in his turnout pants and you in a put up wetsuit, you really did make a pair.

“Touche- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Squeeze my hand.”

“I’ll probably break it.”

“I’m yours to break.”

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#One Chicago #Chicago Fire #chicago med #otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek #brian zvonecek x reader #otis zvonecek x reader #Kelly Severide #matt casey #joe cruz #Natalie Manning #april sexton

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cruzrogue · 4 years

Photo

Broken

Ch1 (an olicity AU story.)

It’s a cloudy miserable noon with a chance of rain. So far today nothing has gone her way. Finding herself grabbing another coffee because the first one was full of grinds. The only perk of her job is endless bagels and mediocre coffee.

Her sigh remnants through the small breakroom. Mumbling to herself, “You’d think a multi-billion-dollar company could afford better coffee.”

The only other occupant in the room snorts, “They wouldn’t make so much money if they gave their slaves… I mean employees premium coffee.”

“I Guess.” Placing enough sugar and cream in her cup. She deserves this. Especially being free from a call she finished up where a Queen Consolidated employee who seemed to be locked out of their computer had such a terrible attitude.

She had dreams. Aspirations. They all vanished when her boyfriend was lost somewhere in the Northern China Sea.

“It looks like it is going to rain hard soon.”

“I hate rain.” Her eyes move from the small tv showing a weather update to the overhead windows. The sky is getting darker by the second.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it was a rainy night when you and your boyfriend got into a fight. He left and never returned.”

Felicity stares at him. She’s never told anyone the full story.

“Yea, something like that.”

Her life has changed dramatically in the last few years. To be clear. It’s been five years since her heart was ripped out from her chest.

“What a deadbeat.” Her coworker keeps going, “Wasn’t he the father of your three kiddos?”

“I better get back to my cube.” Pointing to her work area, “See you around Cooper.” She doesn’t wait for his own goodbye as she hightails it out of there.

Single moms aren’t his thing. It doesn’t stop Cooper from checking out her nice legs. She’s one of those MILFs he’d wouldn’t mind one night with. No strings attached kind of way. Too bad she’s pegged down with three kids.

As the breakroom is now void of anyone viewing the broadcast. Headlines appear. Oliver Queen has been found. After his five-years of being considered dead. He will be coming home. To reunite with his family.

Moira Queen face appears on screen, “It is a miracle with that of my young daughter’s prayers were answered.” She appears to hold back tears of joy. The camera than pans to the man by her side. Under his picture the viewers are reminded about his amnesia. How his bodyguard pulled him out of the turbulent water to a life raft.

Robert Queen has a few words, “My son is alive. After all these years of mourning. There is nothing worse than waking up not remembering anything that transpired. It has been my greatest failure as a father. I get a second chance. My boy is alive.”

The station airs a few more minutes of a recap of the Queen tragedy before the headline repeats its saying, ‘Oliver Queen has been found… Alive!’

As the hard rain begins to pellet against the building.

Felicity’s glancing at a photo of her three munchkins. Oliver was such a hands-on dad. Their first pregnancy was accidental. Their second was totally planned. Their third, well… she was alone for that one. His voyage with his father resulted in his death.

Life has a funny way of working out.

What does it matter that she was a prodigy child? At fourteen she was admitted to M.I.T. Her brain revered. Still is. It’s just… She doesn’t have passion to continue with her once upon a time active goal.

Losing Oliver was a knife to her zeal to conquer the technical world. Without his support she’s withered away in a gloomy existence. Somehow pushing forward due to motherhood. Seeing a piece of him in each of their children.

All it took was an eighteen-year-old boy to break her full academic resolve. She fell in love at first sight. It took awhile to become lovers because of her age. It didn’t stop them from spending each free moment together. Learning, appreciating, falling deeper, and the respect was always there. That when their bodies shared a special dance that carried them forward to wanting a life to be forever bound.

The most bizarre thing in all this. His parents didn’t approve of his affiliation with a minor back during their college years. They kept their relationship a secret. With the quarrel that led to Oliver giving her some space she felt to guilty to approach his family. They just lost their son.

Even though her babies are a joyful creation. If Oliver’s parents didn’t accept her in the past. She doesn’t ever want an eternal battle of custody. Powerful people have ways to win against dreamers like her.

To many people it is unfathomable that she’d keep the lineage of her children hidden. Maybe one day. When her kids are old enough to understand. For now, it is a secret that she carries.

It takes her stomach to growl to even leave her post. Maybe a bagel will suffice until quitting time. Moving past some coworkers who seem to be gathered around animatedly gossiping. It takes a name to stop her in her tracks.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shakes her head no, “Heard what?”

“The boss man’s son has returned.”

“What?” She shakes her head. Why is this conversation not making any sense to her, “Who?”

A name yet to be supplied but a few coworkers point to the breakroom.

“It’s all over the news.”

Felicity doesn’t wait. Hearing Oliver’s name once was enough to have her in a daze. She makes it to the room and any hunger she had seems to be forgotten. Her eyes scanning the headlines. Her world is spun upside down or is it right side up? It doesn’t take long as her head spins all the new information. Her Oliver is alive.

“He’s alive!” She can’t contain how much hearing this is just so overwhelming, “He’s coming home.” Hearing some voices agree that he is coming back to Starling City. She would find it amusing if the voices didn’t drown away as a dizziness overtakes her. Falling. Falling upon the carpeted floor. Not hearing the same voices sounding panicked.

“Felicity?”

Her name again said out loud. To be answered by a moan.

“Ms. Smoak?”

Felicity doesn’t want to open her eyes. It’s a harsh light waiting for her. Squinting she tries to cooperate with the voice.

“Welcome back. You had us all worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“There is an ambulance on the way.”

“No. No need.” Is mumbled out. “I’ll be okay.”

“Ms. Smoak, it is policy to make sure you are alright. I’ll give you some forms and they’ll need to be filled out before you can return to work.”

“Okay.” Is softly spoken. Felicity feels lightheaded. She just hallucinated that her boyfriend is alive. Maybe it purgatory. Even though she doesn’t believe in purgatory. It is the hellish state to want him back so bad. Their last words said of anger. She’s already exhausted every nightmare trying to make things right.

“Alright then. They’re here. Please remain seated I’m just going to handle their arrival.”

The woman leaves Felicity alone in what seems to be an examination room. Afraid to pass out again she remains seated. This has never happened before. Fainting by wanting something so bad. Crying her eyes out. Crying to the point of exhaustion. Now that is something she knows of well.

How will she explain to the medical professional she passed out thinking the love of her life miraculously came back to her. Just out of the blue she’s so overemotional. Thinking about a man for the longest time. Didn’t believe was gone. How cruel is her mind? That when she finally admits he is never coming back. She’d have an episode.

Across the city at Starling General. Oliver Queen is being checked out. His family insistent that he have a medical professional make sure he is truly fine. The media is playing that he has been found and is awaiting extradition out of the US Embassy in China. The truth of the matter is he was found days ago. He silently made it back states side early this morning. He has yet to see his parents. Glad to know his father is alright.

He is anxious.

What he wants... no what he needs is to know of his children. Know how Felicity is? Five years is a long time. The fear that has taken so many dreaded nights. Did he lose her? Their last words to each other harsh.

Is their another raising his children? His parents unaware of their grandchildren. His mind going all over the place. On the trip before that horrifying night. Oliver told his dad about his granddaughters. Of how he felt about another little one on the way. He was ecstatic.

At first, he kept his relationship from his parents because they weren’t keen on him courting a minor. They wouldn’t believe him if he were to say they never consummated their love until she was ready. He understood the ramifications society holds. Yet, age between them was just numbers. It’s not like he was a party boy like his high school self.

Meeting the blued eyed prodigy. He was quickly under her spell.

He regrets that he kept his growing family a secret. His love for Felicity should have never been under wraps. The moment they graduated from their prestigious schools. He should have pushed. Should have fallen on one knee and asked her to be his bride. Should have not listened to her newest reasons that she wanted to succeed without his family’s help.

Understanding that his father and a few of the crew made it out alive. He was pushed out on the wreckage further away. That when the storm calmed, he was already halfway to purgatory. His father’s amnesia keeping both sides of his family from connecting.

His thoughts are on his kids. Two he helped name. One he wonders if he has another sweet daughter or a little boy. Are they healthy? Doing well? His little Maple she’d be about seven of age. Ava would be five. His youngest almost four.

His youngest. Every thought that comes about is agonizing.

Felicity didn’t have him to lean on. Which means she either was alone or another somebody took his place. It guts him to even picture his young children calling someone else daddy.

Five years. Five years in turmoil.

He’s back. He’ll find his family. No matter what. He’ll apologize to Felicity over and over until she knows those angry words were of a silly man being hurt.

Now he waits. Looking out of a hospital window. Waiting for familiar voices to come and claim their lost child. He needs this as much as they will. To be home. To be among those he loves. He missed so much. So much time lost.

He can feel the yearning come tenfold as a familiar voice is heard behind the hospital door of his room.

#Broken #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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