#YES I DID SLEEP ONLY FIVE HOURS AND THEN DRINK AN ENTIRE CAN OF MONSTER TO SOMEHOW STAY AWAKE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twistedlymad · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I really love your Twisted Wonderland stories!! They make so happy!! I love the way you write the characters! If you’re still taking requests could I plz have a story of MC and the gang playing truth or dare where Grimm asks MC if she has a crush on anyone to get at the boys? And MC won’t tell so the boys try everything they can to see who she likes? I leave the ending in your hands! I understand if you won’t accept this request but if you do then I’ll be so happy!! Ok thanks YOUREAWESOME!!

Okay, let’s settle something first. And that is: I am NOT awesome.

You guys are the true awesome ones! You guys have so many ideas! My inbox is filled with requests of which I never knew could happen! Thank you all <3

Also, I have never fully immersed myself into a game of truth and dare :’) And now I’m writing a story on something I’ve played but not full heartedly. The irony is strong :’)

Thank you for requesting this story! I do hope it lives up to your expectations! Thank you again and have a lovely day!!

What if you played Truth or Dare? (Ft. Grim, Ace, Deuce, Sebek, Jack and Epel) (Riddle, Vil, Lilia and Ruggie are mentioned)

“Fgnaaaaa (Y/N), I’m bored.” Grim said while laying on your lap. You and him were doing your homework in your dorm.

“I know, but, when we finish, we can go out and meet up with the others. I’ll even throw in a can of tuna or two. How does that sound?” You said, trying to coax the furball into doing his homework.

“When you put it that way!! Fgnaaaa!” And the furball was more excited to do his work. You gave him a head pat and continued on your own work.

After about an hour or two, you two had finished your homework. You sighed and closed your book, you turned to see Grim dozing off to dreamland. You shook your head, giggling and gently nudged him awake.

“Come on you furball, it’s almost time to get dinner, we don’t want the others to worry about us right?” You said, picking Grim up and placing him on your head. Grim yawned a little before going to sleep on your head.

You had a nice little walk to the crowded cafeteria, when you arrived, you saw your friends sitting at a table not far from you. They were chatting with smiles on their faces while you went and grabbed yours and Grim’s food. After doing so, you went over to the table where your friends were sitting and sat yourself down.

“(Y/N)!!” The others called for you and you just shushed them. They were puzzled until you pointed to the sleeping furball on top of your head. They looked at each other before nodding and snickering. You smiled and slowly set the sleeping furball down on your lap and took a bite out of your dinner.

“So, how is everyone doing?” You asked your friends and multiple groans were heard.

“Riddle made me feed the flamingos wearing pink again today!!” Ace said with a sigh.

“I had to change the color of roses in the garden to white for the whole day.” Deuce said, taking a sip out of his drink.

“Ruggie-senpai dragged me around the whole school looking for Leona-senpai… Turns out he was sleeping in a tree at Main Street. I wasted a whole afternoon doing that.” Jack said.

“Hah! You guys don’t even know what is true hardship. Vil and Rook taught me on ‘fine dinning’ and ‘proper table manners’ the whole day! I don’t get it! IT’S FOOD SO YOU SHOULD JUST EAT IT.” Epel said, the last part in anger. You patted him gently as a gesture to calm him down.

“Malleus-sama was nowhere to be found when school ended, so me and that stupid Silver spent the entire day searching for him. We could’ve been done earlier if that human wasn’t so slow. I can’t believe he can let Malleus-sama out of his sight!” Sebek said.

“Ehh? Didn’t you also let Malleus-senpai out of your sight?” Epel asked the Diasomnia first year. The latter froze a little.

“N-No. Malleus-sama’s class wasn’t near mine at all today. It’s clearly that human’s fault.” Sebek said.

“Sebek, I’m sure Silver-senpai didn’t mean it. It’s just that Tsu- I mean, Malleus-sama likes taking walks around the school without anyone knowing, right?” You said, in hopes of calming down your friend.

“Hmm… Maybe you’re right, but still-” Sebek tried to argue but you cut him off.

“Sebek, it’s alright, mistakes happen all the time, let it go.” You said and sent a smile to him.

“A-Alright.” Sebek said, going back to his meal.

“You know what? Since you all had such a terrible day, let’s do something after dinner to clear your minds of it!” You suggested to your friends, their eyes lit up after you’ve said so.

“Yea!! But, what should we do?” Ace asked.

“How about a game?” Deuce said.

“What game?” Jack immediately asked. The 6 of you were brainstorming until Epel decided to speak up.

“How about Truth or Dare?” The Pomefiore first year piped up. You all took looks at each other before nodding.

“Sounds fun!” Ace said with a smirk.

“I’m in.” Deuce said, taking a bite out of his dinner.

“W-Well, it is just a game… I guess I’ll join since I have nothing better to do.” Jack said, his ears drooping slightly.

Alas, the only one who didn’t give a response was Sebek. So, you, Ace and Epel looked at him with the most adorable puppy eyes the 3 of you could muster. Jack was slightly confused but he has a gist of what you all were trying to do. Sebek looked at the 3 of you, his face slightly paling.

“W-Wha-“ Poor Sebek couldn’t even finish asking before you cut him off.

“Join our game Sebek!” You pleaded.

“It’ll be fun! We promise!” Ace continued after you. After the two of you had said this, you, Ace and Epel bombarded Sebek with the word ‘please’ over and over again.

“F-FINE! STOP YOUR PLEADING!” Sebek said, finally caving in to you, Ace and Epel’s chants of ‘please’. The three of you high fived each other and did a little cheer. Your cheering just so happened to wake Grim up from his nap.

“Fgnaaaaa…. What’s wrong with you people? Can’t you let a monster like me take a good nap for once?” Grim said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. You giggled and petted Grim.

“Sorry Grim, but we were just excited! We’re playing truth or dare later.” You said, running your fingers through the creature as if you were to groom him.

“Truth or Dare? What’s that?” Grim asked you. You let out a small gasp.

“Grim… You… You don’t know what’s Truth or Dare?” You asked back the creature. He looked at you tiredly and shook his head.

“It’s like, the most common game ever to play with friends! You must’ve heard of it before!” Ace said to the furball.

“No, I have never heard of such game.” Grim replied the orange-haired student with a yawn.

“Well, you can see us play around before joining in later.” You said, handing him a can of tuna. “I remember owing you this.” The furball’s eyes lit up with sparkles.

“Fgnaaaaaaa!! Yes!!!!” Grim did a little happy dance and started to work his way into the can.

“So, where are we going to play later?” Sebek asked you all.

“Not Heartslabyul.” Ace said. “I cannot imagine enjoying the game with Riddle there.”

“Not Savanaclaw either. We can’t have a peaceful moment to ourselves there.” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Definitely not Pomefiore, unless you want our game session to turn into a makeover session.” Epel added on.

“Diasomnia isn’t the best option either. I’m pretty sure Lilia-senpai would interrupt us constantly.” Said Sebek.

“Well, I guess that just leaves my dorm right?” You said, laughing a little. “Then it’s settled then! We’ll have a small game session at Ramshackle Dorm. Now, hurry up and finish your dinner guys.” You ordered the boys as you finished your own dinner.

When they did, you all walked back to your dorm together, along the way, you guys had a nice little chat about what Professor Trein’s homework and how Lucius has a big influence on the class. The cat couldn’t help but meow at the end of each of the professor’s sentence. Ace even made fun of Deuce who meowed along once because he was half asleep then. When Deuce tried to defend himself by saying it was actually Lucius who made the sound and not him, Ace fired back at him saying that he was literally looking at him while he made the sound. Poor Deuce immediately turned red as the rest of you laughed. It’s okay, you comforted him after laughing for almost a minute.

Soon after, you arrived at your humble Ramshackle Dorm. You let everyone into the lounge and you guys started to discuss about the game that you were going to play. You guys decided to draw sticks to see who will go first. In the end, you had drawn the longest stick therefore you would start the game first.

“Alright then, let’s begin! Epel, truth or dare?” You asked your first victim and so the madness had begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few rounds of Truth or Dare, you had ended up with Epel being punished to wear a pink dress and his hair was in an up-do. Ace and Deuce had been punished to switch places, their personalities, the marks on their eyes and even their clothes had been switched. Jack was dared to have makeup on his face, from mascara to lipstick, you name it, beauty products littered everywhere on his face, his tail was in a big braid as a dare. Sebek’s whole body was covered in glitter, everytime he moved, glitter would flutter off from his body, he was also punished to speak in hushed tones.

Yeah, let that sink in.

And for you, you just had to be in an uncomfortable pose. You were feeling pretty sore too, who would’ve thought you would have to do the game standing up with only one leg supporting you while one of your hands were stuck to your waist and the other on top of your head. This was a dare made by Sebek out of all people, and you can only leave the pose when someone else calls out your name. So, yeah, you were ABSOLUTELY SORE.

“I think I know how to play this game now!!” Grim suddenly yelled out.

“Final- I mean, good for you Grim! I have to be nice to everyone if I want to be an honor student!” Ace said to Grim, mocking Deuce who was clearly irked by this.

“Fgnaaaaaa! Why wouldn’t I know how to play? I am The Great Grim after all!!” Grim laughed out.

“Well, I guess you should get a turn, go on then, pick a student and ask them Truth or Dare.” Epel said.

“Hmmm… (Y/N) then!” Grim looked at you and you finally collapsed onto the ground.

“Thank you Gri-“ You were cut off by the furball.

“Truth, or Dare?” You looked at him with widen eyes.

“Hmm… I’m never doing dare again… So, truth!” You said, not moving from your position at all because you were too tired.

“Alright, Truth eh?” Grim said, putting a paw underneath his chin to make it look like he’s thinking of something. After a few seconds of ‘thinking’ the furball had come up with the question.

“I got it!!” Grim yelled. “Who do you have a crush on in this school?” Everybody froze.

Grim, no, you just… You just started a war.

“Hey! How about I switch okay? I choose Dare instead!!” You frantically yelled out.

But Grim already made up his mind.

“Alright then, I dare you to tell us your crush.” Grim said to you and your eye twitched. You got to hand it to the furball, that was one smart move.

“Argh! NO! I won’t say anything!” You said, crossing your arms and turning away from your friends.

“Hey! You didn’t let me do anything else than wear this stupid dress!” Epel argued with you.

“Guys, guys, no. If (Y/N) is acting so defensive, it must mean she has a crush.” Ace said. The boys looked at you while you slowly shrunk yourself.

“(Y/N), it is a dare.” Jack barely said for his face was too heavy with the amount of makeup on.

“Yeah (Y/N) come on, tell us! I as the troublemaker need to know because I’m dumb!” Deuce said, mocking Ace.

Truth be told, the boys treated each other like enemies when Grim asked the question as they each wanted to be your ‘crush’, they knew that everyone had spent their fair share of time with you and you must have a favorite, right?

So, with what Deuce had said, it seemed like a direct attack to Ace. And let me tell you, Ace was not happy at all.

“HEY! I HAVE BETTER GRADES THAN YOU!” Ace fired back to his dorm mate.

“SO?! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU’RE SMART IN YOUR EVERYDAY CHOICES!” Deuce yelled back.

“GUYS STOP.” Sebek said, getting in between them.

“Fine! Just because I don’t want to be covered in glitter as well.” Ace said.

“Hmph! Me neither!” Deuce said.

“Wait… Where’s (Y/N)?” Epel asked out. Everyone turned to where you sat only to find air there.

You see, while everyone was busy watching/stopping the fight between Ace and Deuce, you had sneakily taken off and ran straight for your dorm’s front door.

“(Y/N)!!! YOU CAN’T ESCAPE!!” Epel yelled as he and the others started to run after you.

“NO! FREEDOM IS NEAR!” You yelled and opened the door and ran out of it. As you just left your dorm’s front yard, you saw the boys were already on their way chasing after you. Grim was also with them but he had a spot on Deuce’s shoulder.

So, you ran, with a bunch of ridiculously looking boys on your tail.

“Guys, we should circle her instead, so, split up!” Sebek told his friends. The others nodded and branched off. You turned your head to see only Sebek running at you at full speed. You gulped slightly before picking up your pace.

“(Y/N)! This could’ve been easier if you’ve just did the dare!” Sebek yelled at you.

“Over my dead body!!” You shouted back and took a sharp left at the end of a hallway, leading you to Main Street.

But when you arrived, you saw something pink slowly walking towards you. You widen your eyes as you realized that it was Epel in front of you. You turned your head to the left to find Jack slowly approaching you from that side. Your right was being approached by the two Heartslabyul boys so escaping from there isn’t an option. You also felt a presence behind you and you already knew who it was.

And with that, you were trapped. Escape was impossible then.

Or so you thought.

“Now, (Y/N), be a good little student who accepted a dare and tell us…” Ace said smugly.

“Yeah, no backing out (Y/N).” Deuce continued. You were overwhelmed.

“F-Fine! I’ll talk, I’ll talk!” You said, covering your blushing. The boys all thought you looked adorable in that state. Could you blame them? You were looking all flustered and red and adorable while hiding her blushing face. Nothing could stop them from blushing slightly as well.

“Okay…” You said, taking a deep breath. The boys leaned in to you, wanting to hear more of your slightly trembling voice.

“My crush is-“

Ah, you were cut off. By a few voices actually.

“ACE! DEUCE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IS IT?!”

“EPEL! IS THAT YOU?! WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE EVIL QUEEN ARE YOU WEARING?!”

“Jack!! I need your help back at Savanaclaw!! Leona isn’t helping me!!”

“My oh my, if it isn’t Sebek, you know, Malleus would be disappointed.”

Yes, two dorm leaders and two vice dorm leaders were slowly walking to your group.

“Dorm Leader Rosehearts!” Ace and Deuce yelled to a red-looking Riddle.

“You two! It’s already curfew! If you don’t get back to your dorm in the next five minutes… IT’S OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!” Ace and Deuce’s eyes widen and ran at full speed to their dorm.

“Bye (Y/N)!! We’ll see you tomorrow!!” Ace and Deuce said as they ran back to Heartslabyul with Riddle following behind them, but of course Riddle walked slowly instead.

“EPEL!!!” Vil had yelled for his first-year. Epel let out a small groan before turning to look at Vil.

“What?” Your friend responded to his dorm leader.

“What in tarnation are you wearing?!” Vil questioned.

“Are you blind? It’s a dress.” Epel said with a straight face.

“Don’t make me slap you again. Come, we must go back to Pomefiore and get you out of this horrible outfit.” Vil said and dragged Epel away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/N).” Epel managed to say while being dragged back to his dorm by Vil.

“Jack! Didn’t you hear what I said?!” Ruggie was approaching Jack. “I told you that- HAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOUR FACE?!?!” Ruggie couldn’t help himself as he turned Jack around only to be greeted with a makeup filled face.

“Yeah, yeah, you need my help right? Let’s just go now.” Jack said, dragging a laughing hyena upperclassman with him. “Bye (Y/N).” Said the wolf to you.

“My… Sebek… What a sight to see you like this.” Sebek froze for a good few seconds before turning around.

“Lilia-sama…” Sebek muttered in a low tone.

“I wonder how Malleus would react to this.” Lilia said and Sebek’s eyes widen.

“N-NO, MALLEUS-SAMA MUSN’T KNOW!” Sebek yelled.

“Then, I suggest you better hurry back to your dorm before he catches you.” Said Lilia with a small smirk on his face.

“We will meet again tomorrow (Y/N)!” Sebek said before rushing back to his dorm.

“Bye (Y/N)~” Lilia said to you before going back to his dorm himself.

After everyone were gone, you let out a breath you didn’t even knew you were holding.

“Fgnaaaaa… I only played one round though.” Grim said, as he plomped himself on your shoulder.

“I think one round is enough for you.” You said and started to walk back to Ramshackle Dorm.

“But seriously (Y/N), who is your crush?” Grim asked with curiosity.

“I don’t need a crush, I have you after all.” You said to Grim, patting his head.

“But but!” Grim asked further.

“No buts, either you stop asking about my crush or you don’t get to have tuna for the next few days.” You said with a stern tone.

“Fine…” Grim said and the two of you slowly made your way back to Ramshackle Dorm.

#twisted wonderland fic #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim #mc/yuu #epel felmier #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #ruggie bucchi #lilia vanrouge

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moonlightserenadeeznutz · 3 years

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Raising The-Boy-Who-Lived

(Part 1)

Decided to write a wolfstar raising Harry au, which may turn into a long fic, which is why I’m publishing it on tumblr so it doesn’t seem so intimidating.

Sirius stared blankly at the ruined house of Godric’s Hollow. The roof was half destroyed, the windows smashed right out of their frames, and the entire place was submerged in darkness.

“James... Lily... Harry...” Sirius almost couldn’t bring himself to enter, desperate to put it off for as long as possible. But something compelled him into moving. Hope compelled him.

The front door was off its hinges, one push nearly sent it crashing to the ground.

Sirius could see him. There, on the landing, lying face up and motionless.

“No...” he breathed, running up to James’s body. Maybe he was just stunned. Stupefied. Anything but...

“No no no NO!” His breaths turned to wails. There was no doubt about it. James was dead. “Please, please don’t do this, please...” He was blinded by tears and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move from his best friend’s side.

How could this have happened? Just a few hours ago he and Remus had come round for Halloween, before Remus had to return to the pack of werewolves that Dumbledore had stationed him with, a task he was not looking forward to. But they’d all had a laugh, drinking, eating, playing with Harry. They’d all expressed their disappointment at Peter not being able to join them.

Sirius held James even tighter as his breath hitched.

Peter... That bastard... That traitorous, cowardly, sneaking, lying bastard... Sirius shook in anger. That man would pay for what he did. The pain Sirius wanted to inflict upon him, more and more until he begged for death, and...

Sirius stopped. Something caught his ear. A cry. Crying.

A baby crying.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Harry!” He forced himself away from James and ran in the direction of the crying, towards the nursery...

Where he found Lily.

“Please, no...” he had to support himself on the doorframe as he stared at the second body, sinking to his knees as he held her hand tightly in his.

“Lily, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed under his breath.

The room had gone silent when he entered, but he suddenly heard noises from the corner of the room as Harry began crying again. Sirius immediately went to him, pure relief quickly replacing his grief as it flooded through his body at the sight of the child alive and well. He picked up the crying baby, and held him to his chest, expecting him to break at the smallest touch, a mirage shattering in front of him.

But Harry was okay. There was a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt but other than that he seemed okay.

“Sweet boy, sweet, sweet boy...” Harry began to calm down, exhausted as he was from crying. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll protect you. No one’s going to hurt you, no one will ever hurt you.” Sirius had to get Harry out of here. He didn’t know what Dumbledore was planning, but he couldn’t guarantee that Harry would be allowed to stay with him.

“No one will take you away from me,” promised Sirius firmly. “I’m your godfather. I’ll look after you.” Sirius didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to take Harry away from his parents forever. But Dumbledore would be quick to find out. Sirius had no time to lose.

He bent down towards Lily and kissed her on the forehead.

“Your son is safe...” he whispered against her ear, reluctantly standing up, Harry in his arms, and crossing the threshold underneath the doorway back into the hall.

When he returned to James, he allowed himself to sit next to him for a moment. He didn’t like James’s unseeing eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. Sirius gently shut them for him.

“Goodbye, Prongs.” His voice broke. He never imagine he’d be saying these words. “You were the best friend anyone could have asked for. Thank you.” Sirius heard a loud CRACK! from behind the house. Someone had apparated into the garden.

“Shit...” Sirius gave one last look at his friend, and turned to leave. The now sleeping Harry still tucked under his arm.

His motorcycle was stood outside. He only had around five seconds to charm the side car, in order to make it safe for Harry to lie in as they made their escape. He couldn’t risk carrying Harry himself while driving. So he slipped Harry onto the padded seat, careful not to wake him up, and placed an invisible barrier around the entire area to ensure there was no way for the baby to fall out. Sirius also made sure the inside was protected from the cold and the wind.

He could see the light of a wand within the house. He had no more time to waste, and he jumped onto the front seat of the motorbike, kicking the stand away and launching the engine into life. There was no doubt that he’d be heard immediately by whomever was in the house, but by the time they reached the front door, it would be too late.

Sirius and Harry were gone.

~ So now he was on the run. He was on the run with an orphaned baby, and nowhere to go. He couldn’t go back to his flat. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together the sound of a motorcycle engine and a disappearing baby to work out that Sirius had taken Harry. Dumbledore would be banging his door down within the hour.

Sirius’s first thought was to go to Remus.

But oh Merlin. Remus wouldn’t yet know... he’d have to tell him the news. Not only that, but he’d have to tell Remus that they’d changed secret keepers without telling him.

Remus would hate him. What if he blamed Sirius for getting James and Lily killed? If they’d never changed secret keepers this never would have happened, and it was Sirius’s idea in the first place.

No... he couldn’t think like that. It was Peter’s fault, it was all Peter’s fault.

And where the fuck was Peter right now? In hiding no doubt. Ran off as soon as the deed was done, the cowardly bastard. Sirius was so angry he almost turned the motorcycle around to go after Peter himself.

But then he glanced at the sleeping baby beside him, and he calmed down. He was angry, yes. Hurt, betrayed, furious. But Harry was his priority right now. Nothing else mattered. Everything else could wait. He just needed to get Harry to safety.

But first he had to find Remus. Which would involve entering a forest filled with feral werewolves. How would he do that? And how would he do that without putting Harry in any danger?

The forest was all the way in Wales. Dumbledore had put Remus there, knowing that he was the perfect man for the job. He’d fit right in with all the other Welsh werewolves. Remus didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go back to his homeland to live his life as a monster. Not where he’d grown up as a little boy. But Dumbledore was adamant.

“They’re Welsh-speaking,” Dumbledore had explained. “You’re the only person who can infiltrate them.” Eventually Remus had reluctantly agreed. Sirius was rather satisfied in thinking that he was on his way to get Remus out of there. Away from the forest. Away from the other werewolves. Away from Dumbledore’s orders, and the Order of the...

The Order. Sirius couldn’t go back to the Order, not now. But shit... he couldn’t just abandon them.

‘Now’s not the time,’ he thought. He’d think through the logistics with Remus when they were all safe.

~ It took hours to reach the forest. Harry hadn’t woken up yet, which was a relief. But Sirius acted like a mother hen when they had landed. He finally had time to properly check Harry over, making sure he had no other injuries besides the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. But no. He seemed fine. He was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of how drastically his life had changed in the past few hours.

It was dark. Dark, cold... and scary. He hated the thought of Remus having to live here. Out in the open, sleeping on the ground, at the mercy of the harsh Welsh weather.

How was he going to find him? He could be anywhere in the huge forest. And how could he find him without alerting any of the other werewolves? And he couldn’t possibly take Harry with him. But he couldn’t leave him out here on his own either.

He really hadn’t thought this through.

But wait... he suddenly remembered a passing instruction that Dumbledore had given Remus.

“Make sure you wake up early. Before it gets light. Before any of the other werewolves wake up. If I need you, I shall be there at those hours and I shall send up red sparks into the sky. Meet me outside the forest when you see them, and don’t let anyone spot you.”

What time was it? Judging by the sky, it was on the verge of getting light. It couldn’t have been any more than around four or five in the morning, and the days were getting shorter.

Sirius raised his wand and send up three consecutive sparks, and waited.

It was around five minutes later that he spotted movement, and very soon he could make out the tall figure of his friend. This was it. He had to tell him everything. He took a deep breath, and readied himself.

“Sirius? What the hell are you doing here? And what... why- why do you have Harry?” At Sirius’s delayed reply, fear shot across Remus’s eyes. Sirius studied him for a second, taking in the shabby clothes he’d been wearing when he’d left Godric’s Hollow, barely a day ago now, and the pale skin which was already looking sallow. Sirius couldn’t compose himself for long though, and he felt himself breaking down.

“Moony, I’m sorry. But they’re gone. James and Lily are gone. He got to them. He got to them and it’s all my fault.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #wolfstar #harry potter au #wolfstar raising harry #harry potter au fanfiction #wolfstar fanfiction

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 22: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 22: When you close your eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Content warnings: Sleep deprivation/what could be considered insomnia, food mentions, energy drinks, parental abuse, drunk abuse, mentioned anxiety attack, physical altercation, dissociating, school security, maybe PTSD?

Word count: 3.5k

For as long as Remus could remember, he’d hated sleeping.

At some points it got so bad he couldn’t function. Falling asleep at the breakfast table before violently jolting awake, asking his mother or teacher to repeat things four or five times until it finally clicked that they were asking if he was okay, staring off into space for what felt like a couple minutes, only to learn that it was several hours later and he’d missed dinner. Roman had gotten used to his twin’s habit of losing sleep, and although it never ceased to worry him, it became more of a given thing that if Remus forgot to do his chores, it was (most of the time) an accident. He’d walk into their shared room and snap his fingers in his face a few times, ask if he wanted dinner until Remus finally understood, and then help him stumble downstairs.

It was also a given in their family that if Remus ever did fall asleep, whether in his own bed, or on the couch, or outside in the backyard, never wake him up. He so rarely got any rest whatsoever that the seldom times he was able to conk out, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be down for over twenty hours. In those cases, their parents would silently close all the curtains and shut off the lights if he was indoors, or cover him with their deck umbrella and lay a blanket on him if he was outside, and make it law to not disturb him. He’d miss school, it was fine, just let him sleep.

And it was all because of his soulmate.

Because it wasn’t so much the act of sleeping in itself that he hated. No, the times he actually got deeper than the REM phase, when he was actually out, it was amazing. Blissful and relaxing and made him so hyper aware when he finally woke up. Like the colors were no longer dim and words made sense the first time they were uttered. It was the actual act of falling asleep, when he had to close his eyes but was still fully conscious, that he hated.

He didn’t have a proper idea who his soulmate actually was. Every time he closed his eyes and their vision fused, when he saw everything his soulmate saw from their perspective, they never seemed to be around a mirror. That would have made life a whole lot easier, if he only knew what it was. Then at least he’d have a chance to save them.

It started when he was little, when their soulbond was just forming. Back then, it was still shaky and glitchy, sometimes showing what his soulmate was seeing, and sometimes just showing the blackness of his eyelid. He saw grassy fields of a park that he couldn’t identify, a dimly lit bedroom with toys scattered on the floor, the night sky from a window that wasn’t his. But then it morphed; playgrounds becoming littered liquor bottles on the floor of an unkempt living room, dark lego-covered carpet evolving from something once played upon to something his soulmate was thrown harshly onto, the view of the stars suddenly filled with the face of a screaming man. The man.

Remus had no idea who the man was, but he knew his face well. He knew every fury filled expression on his drunken face, the way his nose wrinkled in disgust, how his mouth twisted and contorted as he screamed. Their ears weren’t connected, so he couldn’t tell what the man was saying, but it was punctuated with flying fists and hands gripping collars, thrown beer bottles and pushes to the ground. It didn’t happen every time he closed his eyes, but it had happened enough for Remus to suddenly jerk awake the moment their vision was shared out of pure panic. It happened enough that if his mother reached up to adjust his hoodie strings, he’d flinch violently, or when Roman snuck up on him just a little too quietly, his hands would fly over his face to protect himself. He wouldn’t develop bruises, or take the undoubtedly cruel things the man said to heart, but he was still affected. If he tried to sleep, and the man appeared in his sight, he’d bury his face in his arms, eyes wide and staring at his pajama pants, knowing what was happening to his soulmate however far away they were and he was unable to do anything to help. At least he could open his eyes and be free of the horrors. It was only in the rare instances when he’d close his eyes and his soulmate was already asleep, revealing nothing but the black void behind his eyelids, that he could actually sleep.

When Roman awoke that morning, he blinked his bleary eyes and turned to the other bed in the room, sighing when Remus’ bloodshot eyes met his from where he was curled against the wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes had worsened more than they had before. If he was counting right, this was the third night in a row that Remus hadn’t slept at all. The last time he’d slept had been days ago, and only been for a couple hours before he awoke with a sob.

“Are you okay?”

In a move unlike Remus, he shook his head no. He rarely admitted that he wasn’t fine, but it was getting to that point of almost mania where his eyes glazed over every couple minutes, hands constantly shaking, unaware of anything around him.

“You probably shouldn’t go to school today.”

“It’s f’ne,” Remus mumbled, hitting his head into his arms, “T’st in Engl’sh. Gotta go.”

“It’s not like you to care about school.” Roman threw his blankets off, noticing the way Remus flinched at the sudden movement, and began to change out of his pajamas.

“S’nior year. Failing Engl’sh. Ac’demic probation.”

“Ah,” Roman hummed, gingerly placing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in front of Remus. “Is English your first class?”

“Mmhm.”

“How about I drive you back home after your test?”

Remus had zoned out, staring blankly at the clothes in front of him, so Roman took that as a yes. As much as he hated letting Remus go to school when he was like this, he knew that if he didn’t drive him, Remus would find a way to go by himself and probably accidentally walk into the highway or something.

By the time Remus zoned back into the real world, Roman had left the room. Lethargically, he changed into the lazy outfit Roman had placed in front of him and pushed himself off the bed, debating if he had the energy to brush his teeth or not. Just as he was considering just pouring the toothpaste into his mouth and gurgling it, Roman walked into the bathroom with an open can of Monster.

“I have a stash in the basement so Mom doesn’t find them. Keep it down low and don’t take them, or I’ll cut you off.”

Remus didn’t even realize he’d grabbed the energy drink until he had half finished chugging the can, almost sighing at the immediate burst of adrenaline.

“Hell yeah.”

“Get ready and be downstairs in twenty minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

It was an empty threat, they both knew it, but Remus rolled his eyes anyways and set about to brushing his teeth, pulling out his phone to check the time. There was a barrage of missed messages and notifications that he hadn’t been able to care about after sleepless night number two, so he sent back explanations to the people who’d questioned his disappearance and gotten up to date on what he’d missed on social media.

He stumbled downstairs as Roman was opening the front door, offering him a bagel silently. Their parents were both at work already, so they locked the door and got into Roman’s car. Remus wasn’t allowed to get his license, not when there was a solid chance that he’d fall asleep behind the wheel.

“I’m driving you home after English, capiche?”

“I’d probably skip after the test either way.” His hands twitched against his bouncing legs, still unbearably exhausted but now with his heart beating at a rabbit’s pace.

“You are not walking.”

“Yes, mom.”

Roman let out a tired sigh, leaving the drive quiet except for the soft sounds of the radio hosts. When they pulled into the school lot, minutes before the bell, Remus was getting out of the car before it had stopped all the way.

“Meet me in the main office after first period, dipshit!” Roman yelled as Remus disappeared into the building, flipping him off and letting the doors close behind him just as Roman shouted something else. Whatever.

While caffeine was perhaps his most helpful crutch in this nightmare that was living, it had side effects. As soon as his test paper was down before him, his mind completely blanked of every word he’d ever heard in his entire life. Though, in all fairness, that also probably would have happened without the energy drink. He was so used to barely sleeping that it had become a norm to him, but it wasn’t a healthy way to live, so even if he’d learned how to function on twelve hours of sleep a week (on good weeks), his brain hadn’t quite caught on.

The instructions for the test wavered and throbbed before him as he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to banish the blurriness from his sight. He could barely hold a pencil in his shaking hands, his thoughts somehow flying at the speed of light and equally as stuck and lethargic. Pretty much how he felt.

“Remus?”

His head flew up, his unruly bangs flopping into his eye. Since when did he need a haircut?

“I’ve been calling you for a few minutes now,” His teacher said quietly. Although they were trying to hide it, he could see his classmates glancing at him from the corners of their eyes, “Are you alright?”

As if perfectly on cue, he could feel his mind zoning out again, vision going blurry as his thoughts disappeared. Vaguely, he could feel a gentle hand on his arm slowly lifting him to his feet, a voice giving a foggy command to the class, and then he was led out of the room, the painfully bright hallway lights blinding him. It also brought him back to the present, ever so slightly, as he was taken down the hall to the main office. In the back of his mind, he was grateful for it, because this was where Roman would pick him up. Did this mean he was going home now? Was the test over?

“-last time he slept. He keeps zoning out. I think it would be best if he went home and retook the test another time.”

Hm? He blinked hard, until his eyeballs hurt, to try and get the gears in his brain to start working again. The teacher was talking to one of the secretaries, and they both kept looking to him in concern.

“Can I call someone to come pick you up, Remus?” The secretary asked, already flipping through her contacts book.

“His brother also goes here, and can probably take him home. Would be easiest,” The teacher cut in before the question had even fully settled in Remus’ mind, and he internally cheered. At least that was settled. And by the sounds of it, he could do his test another time, which was a huge weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have, nor desire, Roman’s perfect grades, but he at least wanted to graduate.

“I’ll get him excused from class. Thanks for bringing him by.”

Remus blinked again and realized the teacher had left, leaving him wavering in the middle of the office in front of a very worried secretary. She was saying something, her mouth was moving, but the words didn’t compute. However when she gestured to a dimly lit backroom, he got the message and stumbled in, nearly collapsing on the small cot in relief. The door was closed nearly all the way, leaving just a crack of light shining through.

As much as a nice break the darkness was, it just made his eyes want to close farther, and took twice as much effort to keep them open. Pulling at the skin in the corners of his eyes, he reluctantly sat up and focused his stares on the miscellaneous anatomy posters on the wall.

That was when his gaze fell to the hunched form in the corner, staring at him with dark glistening eyes, and he nearly fell off the cot.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelped. The figure flinched back, curling more into the chair they were perched on.

“Sorry. She told you I was here when she brought you in. Didn’t you hear her?”

“In all honesty, no. I didn’t.” The two kept at their staring contest for longer than necessary, before Remus decided to break the silence, “So, what are you in for?”

For a good minute, he didn’t think he would get a response. The guy kept staring back at him, like he was trying to size him up, before he muttered, “Anxiety attack in class. Teacher forbade me from staying here.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah, well…” He finally broke the eye contact, staring down the nails he was picking at. “What about you?”

“Haven’t slept in three days, I think. Maybe four? I was all zone-y during a test so the teacher said I had to go home.”

“Damn teachers and their sudden respect for mental health.”

Remus snorted, resting his head against the wall. “Why’d you have a panic attack?”

“None of your business. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Soulmate stuff,” Remus answered easily, not put off by the other’s suddenly annoyed tone. It wasn’t common to be unable to sleep due to a soulmate issue, whether it was trauma or another issue entirely, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Still don’t wanna tell me why yo-?”

“No.”

“I accept your rejection and will now take my leave to cry in the bathroom stall.”

The other boy actually snickered, a reaction Remus had been wishing for but hadn’t dreamed to expect. He waved a hand dismissively. “I hope you have a good cry.”

“Aw, thanks,” Remus cooed, leaning forward on his hands. “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your name?”

“Virgil. Only moved here recently.”

“How recent is recent?”

“Couple months.”

“Ah. I’m Remus. School disgrace, nice to meet you.”

“Oh boy, befriending the wrong crowd already.”

“I would be offended if you weren’t correct,” Remus grinned, hitting his baggy eyes a couple times with his fists.

“Virgil?” The nurse poked her head through the door, squinting in the low light, “Your dad’s here.”

Virgil stiffened immediately, casting Remus a look he didn’t quite understand before getting to his feet, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. She smiled at him and opened the door wider, gesturing for him to exit.

That’s when Remus saw him.

Him.

It took him a moment to understand that yes, his eyes were open, and yes, this was the man from his shared vision with his soulmate. 100% him, the same dark eyes and half grimace, except now wearing a pristine three piece suit that very much didn’t match his memories of him. He was signing a sheet, presumably to ensure that he’d picked Virgil up, and didn’t notice as his son stood frozen in the doorway, watching him with fear filled eyes.

Remus jumped to his feet, stepping next to Virgil.

“That’s your dad?”

Virgil let out a choked hum, one that was probably meant to be an affirmation, before gripping the strap of his backpack. “Why?”

“I’m your soulmate,” He said with absolutely zero tact, and the way Virgil’s face paled was enough indication that he’d understood. He gently laid a hand on the shorter’s shoulder, a silent indication to ‘stay here’, and marched towards the man at the desk.

“Can I just say one thing?”

He looked up, surprised, and gave Remus a once over. His stomach twisted, being under the man’s gaze, the person who had made it impossible for him to sleep, now in front of him. Eye to eye, he appreciated, because in all the times he’d seen him second hand, he’d towered over him. Now they were the same height, and that brought a sick joy to him.

“I suppose?” The man asked, voice as calm and professional as his suit, looking to the secretary with an almost laugh.

“With all due respect,” Remus snarled, hand curling into a fist, “Fuck you.”

And then he hit him. Hard. All his pent up anger, years of watching his soulmate get beaten to a pulp, losing sleep until he was a zombie of himself, panic attacks of pure worry and fear, flew out in one punch, hitting him square in the nose and sending him stumbling back.

The secretary yelled something he didn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears, and suddenly two arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Let me the fuck at him!” Remus screamed, fighting against the grip with everything he had. The man was on the ground, staring up at him with equal parts horror and pure rage, dabbing at his bleeding nose.

“Remus, breathe. Just calm down, you’re okay. Just breathe,” A shockingly calm voice whispered in his ear, and he immediately sagged against his brother, the restraining arms becoming supporting.

“That’s him,” He said weakly, pulling away so he could turn to Roman, “That’s him.”

Roman furrowed his brow for a moment, looking between his twin and the man on the floor, before his eyes widened. He knew all of Remus’ stories, being the one a young Remus would come to when the visions got so bad he’d break down, listening to his rants about the abusive guardian of his soulmate.

“Call the police,” He deadpanned, turning his glare to the secretary.

“I don’t think Remus-”

“Not for Remus, for him!”

A gasping breath caught everyone’s attention and the focus shifted to the boy still standing on the doorway, his expression one of absolute terror, staring at his father. Remus broke completely away from his brother to cross to him just as the office door slammed open, two security guards-- the secretary had probably called them at the first punch-- taking in the scene before them. He could vaguely hear Roman explaining the situation, glad that he didn’t have to justify anything because he would most likely just end up throwing hands again.

Virgil watched him approach, almost cowering in on himself, as Remus extended a hand.

“Let’s get out of here. You’re not going back with him.”

It took the shorter boy a second, a nervous glance between his earnest eyes and the outstretched hand, before he took it in his own. Remus let a relieved smile take over, interlocking their fingers and leading him past the scene. As he passed a still talking Roman, he swiped the car keys from his pocket with no one any wiser.

“He’ll notice eventually,” He stage-whispered as they exited the large double doors, making their way through the parking lot. “I can’t drive, but we might as well sit in the car until Roman’s done.”

Virgil was quiet, allowing himself to be led through the rows of parked cars before Remus stopped, unlocking the doors and sliding into the backseat, pulling his soulmate in after him. There was a blanket tucked under the front seat and he yanked it out, unfolding it as well he could in the cramped space.

The shorter boy was shaking violently, trying to hide his hands and now bleeding fingernails in his hoodie sleeves. Remus, for maybe the first time in his life, opened his arms for a hug, and was genuinely shocked by how fast Virgil lunged into his grip. He didn’t have many soft spots, but he could make one for his soulmate.

“You’re not going back to him. Over my dead body. We’ll figure everything out later, but for now-” He shuffled backwards, leaning his head on the window so Virgil was basically laying on top of him, “I don’t know about you, but I have about a million hours of sleep to catch up on, so I’m going to catch a cat nap before Roman’s done.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“And it’s not even noon,” Remus snickered, maneuvering the blanket so it covered them both.

He closed his eyes, and for a split second, all he saw was himself, from a lower angle. It was disorienting to say the least, but before he could comment, the world was engulfed in black as Virgil closed his eyes as well.

And for the first time in… who knows how long, Remus wasn’t afraid to sleep.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukexiety #creativitwins #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #ts soulmate au

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

Teetering on the Edge

Summary: You and Dean are meant for each other, but in his line of work, he deems your relationship too dangerous for the long haul, pushing you away, leaving you both worse for the wear.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Cursing, nausea, vomiting, fever, seizures.

A/N: This will fulfill my ‘pining sickness’ square for @spnabobingo, soulmate au (same mark on each other’s skin that reaches for its counterpart when there’s distance between you) for @spnfluffbingo (sorry I never seem to be able to do strict fluff with supernatural characters XD) and ‘I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you’ for @spnquotebingo.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You screamed, racing down the stairs after him. There was no way he was going to walk away and pretend this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. “Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

Dean rounded on so fast it scared you. “Y/N, I am toxic!” He bellowed, stopping Sam in his tracks behind you. “Every, single, time I get involved with someone, they die! Monsters, hunters, angels, demons, shitty fucking humans! It doesn’t matter. They will use you to get to me!”

“So what?” You stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer, snapping the cap off through sheer anger before taking a long sip. Even alcohol wasn’t helping your rattling nerves. “When you love someone, you do things you wouldn’t normally do! Did I expect this life? No way, but I’m in it now and I’m in love with you, you fucking moron!”

He hesitated slightly, your words undoubtedly getting to him despite himself. “Well, I don’t feel the same way.”

Sam glared at him disbelievingly, not saying a word. Dean elbowed you out of the way of the refrigerator and grabbed another beer, downing nearly half of it before continuing. “I care about you. And I care about you enough to turn you away from me and this life.”

“Don’t you fucking dare pull that neanderthal bullshit with me, Alpha!” You yelled your throat hoarse. Sam dipped out of the area and back toward his bedroom. It didn’t matter. Whether he was here or not, you’d be seething. “You don’t get to decide my life for me! Have you ever thought that maybe I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you?” He readied himself to respond but you pushed against his shoulder with a force that startled even you. “Did you ever stop to think that I’ve waited my entire life to find the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? And that now that I found him, I’ll be damned if I let him go?”

You were on a roll. Dean wanted to speak, but you wouldn’t let him. “No! You didn’t fucking think about what I want! Because your number one priority is to make sure you don’t have anymore blood on your hands. Well, guess what. You don’t get to do that. Not with me! When you care, you get blood on your hands. That’s just the way it is. I get to make my own damn decisions!” It all just exploded out of you. You kept screaming and crying and drinking to the point where you weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore. As you kept going, your arguments shifted from his demeanor to your own health. “You claimed me,” you said, pulling your sleeve aside to shove the mark in his face. “You know what’ll happen to me without you? I could fucking die!”

Dean waited for you to stop ranting, steadily finishing his beer. Once you were all yelled out, he chose his words wisely. “There’s medication. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to change my mind,” he said flatly, trying to keep any sense of emotion out of his voice, even though you could tell he was right on the edge of acknowledging every amazing and shit feeling he was feeling in this moment. “I need you to get out of the bunker as soon as possible. For your own good.”

Without thinking, you reeled back and slapped him, open palm to cheek, relishing in the sound of the crack that reverberated throughout the bunker. “Fuck you, Alpha! Fuck. You.”

You kept his gaze as you dipped down to grab your bag. If he was going to pull this bullshit, he was going to look into your broken gaze and suffer while he did it. You weren’t going to be the only one to feel like jumping off the edge of a cliff. Fuck him.

As you climbed the stairs, you glanced down at your hand and glimpsed the ring he’d given you. Boiling with anger, you ripped it off your finger and threw it at him, turning to leave before he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks.

----

You knew the possibilities. It could be as little as a fever and nausea that plagued you. Or it could go to the other end of the spectrum and kill you. With tear-stained cheeks, and no care for who saw you in this state, you headed out the night after your fight with Dean and meet with a doctor at an urgent clinic that specialized in working with omegas. After he checked your vital signs, he leaned against the wall. You felt no threat from him. He was an unassuming beta, which is why you tended to come here. “What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering if I might be able to get some medication to combat pining sickness?” You swiped the silently falling tears and snot from your face with the back of your sleeve.

“You’re mated?”

“Yes, but my Alpha is a pig-headed, son-of-a-bitch in a dangerous line of work that thinks he’s doing me favors by staying away from me.”

“He knows how dangerous pining sickness can be, right?”

Nodding, you stared down at the mark on your hand, cursing its movement as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Yea, but he said there’s medication and he’s adamant that he’s too dangerous for me to be around.”

“He should’ve thought about that before mating with you,” the beta said angrily. When he met your gaze, his own softened. “I can give you something. I hope he comes to his senses, but if he doesn’t I can write up refills for as long as you need, okay?”

A strained smile was all you could muster as you took the prescription from him and bid him a good day, thanking him again for his time and understanding. Less than an hour later, your prescription was filled. One pill a day. Down the hatch.

----

Shakily, you took another pill. Five days since Dean had shoved you out of his life. It started with shakes and a fever, despite the pill. If you didn’t have the pill you might be dead already.

Pain racked your body, tensed every muscle so badly you could do almost nothing but sleep. Pulling the covers back up over your head, you attempted to shut your eyes against the pain. Bile burnt at the back of your throat. You barely made it to the sink before the little food you’d been able to eat the last few days found its way back up and out.

Wiping the remnants away, you fell back against the wall and slipped to the cold, hard tile. It took all the strength you had to reach into your pocket and call Sam. Dean wouldn’t pick up, but Sam might. And maybe he could convince Dean to pull his head out of his ass.

“Hello? Y/N?” Sam asked, his voice growing more concerned when you didn’t answer him. “Y/N, are you there?”

You replied, your voice barely above a whisper, despite trying. “Sam, I’m not well. Dean won’t pick up. I’m shaking. I have a crazy fever, even though I’m on meds. I can’t sleep and it’s only getting worse. Every day. I feel like my insides are boiling. Please, talk to him.”

“You’re on medication?”

“Since the day after I walked out. It’s not helping. Without it, I’d be dead already. Please, Sam. Try. Or I’m not gonna make it.”

Sam’s reply got caught in his throat. “I’ll get him to pull his head out of his ass, I promise.”

A laugh escaped you, but it hurt. “It’s really far up there, Sam.”

“I know.”

----

Every movement felt like climbing a mountain. And every waking moment was a fight to keep living. You started having seizures and could barely keep any food down. Water was all you could stomach.

Another three days past before you heard from Sam again. “He’s immovable, Y/N. Is the medication helping at all?”

“No,” you sobbed, though no tears slid down onto your pillow. “I’m having seizures. I’m burning up. I’m trying to stay on my side so that I don’t choke if I have a seizure, but I’m- I’m not gonna make it. I need you to tell Dean that despite everything...I loved him.”

Hanging up, you tossed the phone across the room with the strength you could muster and teared up again at the sight of the mark on your hand. It had always reminded you of an oak tree, but now the leaves looked like tendrils, crawling across your skin in search of its counterpart. You ran your opposite thumb across the mark and fell asleep, not knowing whether you’d wake up the next morning.

----

Dim light shined into your eyes the following morning, practically blinding you. Your muscles were stiff, barely limber enough to prop yourself up in bed without searing pain, but you managed, taking another pill even though it probably wasn’t doing anything.

Taking a trip to the bathroom was a monumental affair, but on the way you grabbed your phone again. You were so tired. You weren’t going to make it another day. Teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Once again on the bed, you called Dean this time, not surprised when it went to voicemail. “Hey, Alpha. I just...I needed to call you one last time. My temperature’s 105. I can barely move my muscles. I’m having seizures. I won’t make it another day. I know I asked Sam to tell you, but I needed you to hear it from me. Despite everything, despite your bull-headedness and completely dumbassery...I love you. I knew when we first met, even before I saw the mark on your hand, that you were my soulmate. And even though I’m not going to make it, the years we spent together were the best of my life.”

The phone slipped from your grasp after you hung up, thudding against the sheets. Through the gossamer curtains, you marveled at the sun, remembered what it looked like the day you met Dean, before drifting off to sleep.

----

A strong grasp shook you awake.

“Alpha?”

“’Mega, ‘M here.”

When you opened your eyes, you saw his soft greens gazing back at you, filmed by tears as deep as the ocean. “Am I dead?”

“No,” he sobbed. “Mega, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was a fuckin idiot. Stay with me.”

His hands slid up the dry, cracked skin on your arms and up your face. His touch was warm - home. “Fucking idiot would be an understatement.”

Something between a laugh and a sob left his lips. “I know. Baby, ‘Mega, open your eyes.” His thumb traveled back and forth over your cheek, coaxing your eyes to open. “That’s it. Just...stay with me, okay?”

He spoke to you as he stripped himself of his clothes and you of yours, crawling into bed behind you. When his skin melted into yours, you felt a modicum of relief. Something that gave you the slightest bit of hope. “Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

His hand grasped yours, the mark on his hand melding with yours. “Never again.”

#spnabobingo #spnfluffbingo #spnquotebingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean fanfiction #alpha!dean x reader #dontshootmespence #teetering on the edge

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forever-lynx · 3 years

Text

as long as he had eiji

pairing: asheiji

word count: 1754

angst with mild hurt/comfort

A/N: shoutout to the big motivator @emi-joanna 😌this one’s for you bestie

this was also meant for mother’s day yesterday but i had an essay to finish so i couldn’t complete it on time... well, it’s here now! i hope you enjoy

–––––––

The smell of pancakes flew through the air. Eiji wanted to make something simple this morning. He was exhausted from work; he was called in for extra hours in the past week to cover for his sick co-worker. Eiji was smiling to himself as he made the pancakes. Today was Mother’s Day and it reminded him of how much he missed his mom. He’d have to call his mom after breakfast.

Eiji inhaled the smell of his pancakes. He was an excellent cook, he knew; he had to cook for his younger sister back when he lived in Izumo because his mom would often be at the hospital beside his dad. Eiji grew melancholic at the thought of his dad. He missed his family more than anything, though he did not regret living in New York. He never would. It gave him the opportunity to meet his soulmate, the man he valued above all else. Speaking of which, he turned his head toward the couch his lover was asleep on. Ash was awake until late hours of the night in order to complete his business report. Ash was working incredibly hard in his new job. He truly valued it, and Eiji was forever proud of him for his hard work.

The two had not yet moved from New York. Ash had unfinished business to take care of with his gang which caused them to postpone their travels. It was unfortunate – Ash was really looking forward to seeing the place Eiji was born in, and above all he was looking forward to finally escaping the suffocating atmosphere of New York – but they had their aspirations, and it would not escape their grasp so easily.

Eiji piled up the last bit of the pancakes on top of each other and placed them in the middle of the table. He walked over to Ash to wake him up. Ash’s nightmares still continued, unfortunately; though it was to be expected, two months was not enough time to heal from an incredibly traumatic event. And in Ash’s case, he was still dealing with the devils of his past. It pained Eiji; he wanted to be the barrier that protected Ash from all the hurt in the universe. Though as unrealistic as that may be, he was happy to be beside Ash, from now to forever.

Eiji knelt beside Ash and kissed his cheek.

“Aslan,” he murmured. “Breakfast is ready.”

Ash grumbled, turning positions.

Eiji giggled, “Wake up you sleepyhead.”

“Fuck no.” Ash groaned.

“Aslan. You have five seconds to wake up or else I am flipping this couch.”

“I’d like to see your twink ass try.”

“You are impossible,” Eiji said, grabbing a pillow from the other couch and hitting Ash with it.

“What the fuck– Eiji!”

“I spent ten minutes making pancakes, you are not going to let them grow cold and have all my hard work go to waste. Stupid American.” Eiji hit him with a pillow again.

Ash grabbed his pillow and threw it at Eiji. Luckily, the Japanese boy was able to ditch it. Eiji laughed and stuck his tongue out.

“Too slow.”

“Slow?! Oh, you’ll pay for this,” Ash threatened, lunging at Eiji and tickling him. Eiji erupted in a fit of laughter. The pillow fell from his hand as Ash continued to attack him with tickles.

“Fine! Ah- you win!” Ash smiled in triumph. He got up and made his way to the table.

“Pancakes. Wonderful. Yours are to die for.”

“I am not taking compliments from a man who almost killed me with tickles.” Eiji said, sitting down. “Death by tickles, huh? Never tried that method before. Sounds lame.”

Eiji rolled his eyes. The lovers dived in, gulfing down their breakfast. They talked about their work and their plans for Izumo. Eiji was beyond ecstatic to have Ash see his home city. He wanted to introduce him to his neighbours and his friends. He couldn’t wait to take Ash to his old school grounds and the park where he learned how to ride a bike. He wanted Ash to see every little detail of Izumo and he hoped more than anything that his boyfriend would finally find peace.

Once breakfast was over and Eiji had cleaned the table, he announced that he’d be calling his mom.

“It is Mother’s Day. It will only take a minute.” Eiji said. Though that wasn’t entirely the truth. His mother tended to stretch one minute long phone calls to an hour. “Take as much time as you need,” Ash assured him. Eiji smiled and went in their room for the phone call. He did not want to bother Ash when he had mountains of work to do.

Ash settled on his desk chair and stared at his laptop screen. Mother’s Day, he thought, how odd to dedicate an entire day for a parent. Who even came up with this shit?

Ash sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t worth questioning something as minor as this. He tried to focus on his work; he stared at the numbers before him. Unfortunately for him, he was unable to make out what they meant. He knew the formulas – he knew this job like the back of his hand – but his brain refused to cooperate. Weird, he thought.

Ash got up from his chair and made himself coffee. Perhaps he was too tired from the night before to even focus on his work. Of course, that was it. He simply needed to wake up and consume as much coffee and Monster Energy drinks as he could.

Ash sat on the couch with the coffee cup in his hand. He was staring at the blank TV screen, looking at his reflection. The more he stared, the more it felt like the person staring back at him was a stranger. Sometimes he would do this, staring at his reflection until he could not recognize the face. People would find this an abnormal activity, but not to Ash. He was used to questioning the person he saw in his reflection.

Eiji’s laughter erupted from the other room. Ash grinned slightly. Eiji loved his mom, Ash knew. They loved each other. Like a normal family. Like what he always wanted.

The thought hit Ash. He violently shook his head – why was he thinking about this? Yes, it was Mother’s Day, but it meant nothing to him. He never knew his mom, anyway. Why would he want to celebrate a day dedicated to someone who had abandoned him? He thought it was some sick humor. Mother’s Day was just for people to rub their healthy relationship with their mom on those who didn’t.

Eiji had once told him that his mom cared for him, which was why he was named Aslan Jade Callanreese. The thought of his mom caring for him made him laugh. If she truly cared, why had she left Ash with that bastard of a dad?

Ash’s vision suddenly got blurry. He scoffed and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. He didn’t understand why he was wasting his energy dwelling on this. His mom had left him. Full stop. He had gotten over it.

Right?

Ash inhaled shakily. He hated to admit it but he always yearned for a mom who cared. He wanted to know what it was like to come home from school to the smell of freshly baked cookies and the happy humming of a mom. On nights when he could not sleep, he found himself yearning for the touch of his mom, a woman he never got the privilege of knowing. More than anything, he wanted proof that his mom had loved him. The feeling of despair that came with this thought was overwhelming. Ash was suffocating in the loss of someone he had never known.

Ash’s head dropped in his hands. He allowed his tears to flood on the carpet below. His body was shaking with gloom, his world turning black. All these years he hoped it would get easier and it never did. It never would.

Ash heard Eiji’s footsteps getting closer. He immediately stood up and wiped his tears away. He didn’t want to ruin Eiji’s day just because he got sad over his mom. Eiji deserved to enjoy this day – he deserve to enjoy every day.

“My sister wanted to talk to me in the end… I had to tell my mom I had somewhere urgent to go to just so I could avoid talking to her,” Eiji said.

Ash let out a light chuckle; he was doing his best to act normal.

“Ah, I see you made some coffee for yourself. Good to know you did not burn the kitchen.”

Ash chuckled again, looking away from Eiji. As much as he tried to hide his hurt, Eiji always noticed. He always knew when something was off.

Eiji walked towards Ash and sat next to him.

“You do not have to tell me what is wrong, but is there anything I can do to help? We can go get hot dogs if that is what you want.” Eiji softly said.

Ash smiled, “No it’s- it’s okay. It’s just…” Ash hesitated. “It’s Mother’s Day…” Ash could not get the words out of his mouth. The tears seemed to be spilling back immediately. Stupid emotions, he thought.

Luckily, Eiji immediately understood what Ash meant. He always did. “Oh,” Eiji said softly. “I am sorry, Aslan. I should have checked in on you today before I did anything else.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Ash assured him. “It’s not a joyful day for me but you do not have to go through any trouble. Just wishing I had a mom to celebrate this day with, I guess.”

Eiji rubbed Ash’s back. “I am here for you, Aslan. We can take it easy today, if that is what you want.” There were no amount of words that would heal Ash’s hurt but he wasn’t going to leave his lover alone – he never would.

Ash stayed silent for a moment until he opened his mouth to say, “Can… can you hold me?”

Eiji nodded, “Of course.” He hugged Ash; Ash buried his face in the crook of Eiji’s neck, letting the tears roll.

The lovers stayed in silence. All Ash needed was Eiji to let him know it would be okay.

This is okay, Ash thought. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay… he kept repeating to himself, because as long as he had Eiji with him, everything was okay.

#i dont really like the ending but. i got frustrated w the fic lmao #my fic #asheiji #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #hurt/comfort

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thelittlestcheshire · 3 years

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even if you have to cry, don't let your crown fall

a love letter to luxor’s ches elswood

Well, it’s finally time that I feel ready to post this, and while I’m aware it may be bittersweet with my upcoming departure, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Today I present to you a three hour Ches playlist, divided into sections and covering her entire time at Luxor, from when I first picked her up in June of 2019 all the way to now. There’s quite a few plot references, and small (and not as small) references to other muses throughout, especially when it comes to Elliot, so keep an eye out for those as well!

I’d like to thank Lex for giving me the idea to make these, and her support throughout the process because without her, these playlists wouldn’t even exist. And thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with us, while I’m sorry I need to dip out early after this event to focus on my health, I love y’all so much.

The standard Ches tws apply (poor mental health, alcoholism, etc etc), and anything I think may be a bit abnormal / section exclusive is noted on the sections.

twist me like a key, then you open the lock | pre-luxor:

the section of time before I played Ches at Luxor, very James heavy. additional tws: Death (Sign of the Times), Toxic relationships (nothing explicit tho)

Sign of the Times (Jasmine Thompson) [ Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here. ] // Sweet Ophelia (Zella Day) [ Singing like it's a full moon, careless now that he has you. Turns you on to the right songs, promises that you're hooked on. ] // Couple of Kids (Maggie Lindemann) [ Now I'm fallin' heavily, recklessly, trying not to lose my sensibility; but gravity, it pulls me into you. ] // Glowstick (Sofia Karlberg) [ You play me like a line-up; long con, you make me wise up. ] // Crying in the Club (Camila Cabello) [ Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, let the beat carry away, your tears as they fall, baby. Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, with a little faith, your tears turn to ecstasy. ] // Ember (Katherine McNamara) [ Reignite; you lost your grip on me, and now I blaze wild and free. ]

nobody shows up unless i'm paying, have a drink on me cheers to the failing | summer & fall 2019:

the first time I was at Luxor playing ches, from June - October 2019

7 rings (Ariana Grande) [ Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch. Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage? ] // I'm a Mess (Bebe Rexha) [ “It's gonna be a good, good life;” that's what my therapists say. ] // OMG (Little Mix) [ Oh my gosh, I did it again. He said I broke his heart, it keeps happening. ] // Only Angel (Harry Styles) [ Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it. ] // LA Devotee (Panic! At The Disco) [ Drinking white wine in the blushing light, just another LA Devotee. ] // Woman Like Me (Little Mix feat. Nicki Minaj) [ I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly. I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve. ]

all of this emptiness i've been sharing, it never comes when i want it to | winter 2019:

the period of time Ches went home to be with her family and was away from luxor additional tws: vomiting (Habits (Stay High))

Carmen (Lana Del Rey) [ Darlin’, darlin’, doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself ‘cause her liquor’s top shelf ] // How You Remind Me (Avril Lavigne) [ And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream, "Are we havin' fun yet?" ] // Playing God (Paramore) [ This is the last second chance (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm half as good as it gets (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm on both sides of the fence (I'll point you to the mirror). Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it ] // Habits {Stay High} (Tove Lo) [ Staying in my play pretend, where the fun ain't got no end. Oh, can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain. ] // Bedroom Window (The Pretty Reckless) [ As I look out of my bedroom window; is it all real or just fantasy? I have lost touch with what makes me human, I have lost touch with reality. ] // Impossible Year (Panic! At The Disco) [ There's no sunshine, this impossible year; only black days and sky grey and clouds full of fear. ]

i wouldn't say you got the best of me, i'd say you got me somewhere in between | spring 2020:

Ches’s return to Luxor, and the months following leading up to her mass text about Leo’s dad following the Lake Bash

3 O'Clock Things (AJR) [ Would you go running if you saw the real me? Maybe you'd love 'em, yeah, maybe you'd feel me. ] // Wild Heart (Bleachers) [ Well, everything has changed and now I can't tell what matters. I will find any way to your wild heart. ] // Rise (Katy Perry) [ When the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. They're whispering, “you're out of time.” But still, I rise. ] // Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) [ I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control. ] // Princesses Don't Cry (CARYS) [ Girls, so pretty and poised and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown, they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. ] // Save Rock And Roll (Fall Out Boy feat. Elton John) [ You are what you love, not who loves you. In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream... no, no (no, no). ] // Making a Monster out of Me (Katherine McNamara) [ And I don't know how to recollect the morals that I always did possess. Don't know where its leading me. ] // We Don't Have To Dance (Andy Black) [ You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy. This is hell, this is hell. ]

tonight it's alright, i can see the tunnel at the end of these lights | summer 2020:

summer camp and the months leading up to a new school year

Night Owls Early Birds (Foxes) [ A wild fire inside me burns. Why do I look like I'm wear for worse? Save me, save me, go underneath the ground. ] // Too Much (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ When I party, then I party too much. When I feel it, then I feel it too much. When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much. When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much. ] // Royal Blue (Alberto Rosende) [ My regrets are a shade around my neck I know. It's torturous, and there's a burden that I can't let go. ] // Who You Selling For (The Pretty Reckless) [ And when Roger showed me I was building a wall. I've been waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting for it to fall. ] // Heavy (Linkin Park feat. Kiiara) [ You say that I'm paranoid, but I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me. It’s not like I make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy. ] // The Archer (Taylor Swift) [ I've been the archer, I've been the prey; screaming, “who could ever leave me,” darling. But who could stay? ] // Everybody Lost Somebody (Bleachers) [ And there's a reason I wake up alone in strange places, a reason I see myself in a million faces, a reason I can't stop it all from changing. So come on, motherfucker, you survive, you gotta give yourself a break. ]

no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles | fall and winter 2020(/21):

a new school year, from the start of the semester right until the aftermath of the kings’ party

So It Goes (Guards) [ I don't know who I am but I do know who I'm not. I'm just looking for a friend, I'm still searching for the plot. ] // Wasabi (Little Mix) [ Love to hate me, praise me, shame me; either way, you talk about me. ] // Think Before I Talk (Astrid S) [ Maybe I should think before I talk; I get emotional and words come out all wrong. Sometimes I'm more honest than I want. ] // Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift) [ No cameras catch my muffled cries. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. And now the storm is coming, but... ] // Sober Up (AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo) [ Won't you help me sober up? Growin' up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel somethin' again. ] // The Show Must Go On (Queen) [ Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on. Does anybody know what we are looking for? ] // Waiting For A Friend (The Pretty Reckless) [ My head is like a prison cell, I'm all by myself. I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out. ] // Sober (Demi Lovato) [ I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help. It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself. ] // Eight (Sleeping At Last) [ I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut, and bury my innocence. But here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my Achilles' heel. ]

i got this handled, i don't need rescuing | spring and early summer 2021:

ches’s progress from the end of march until now

The Man (Taylor Swift) [ I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them coming at me again, 'cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. ] // Princess (FLETCHER) [ But we're all going through it, so why do we do it? Why do we hide? ] // Humpty Dumpty (AJR) [ If I can't breathe, then you can't see, but aren't you excited that I'm giving you the best me? ] // My Mistake (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Am I jaded? Am I meant to feel this way? I'm a loser, getting beat by my own game. But if I falter, well, at least it was my mistake. ] // The Climb (Miley Cyrus) [ The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking; sometimes might knock me down, but no, I'm not breaking. ] // breathin (Ariana Grande) [ Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. ] // Clean (Taylor Swift) [ Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in, now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it. ] // Not a Pop Song (Little Mix) [ A hamster on a wheel that's how it feels tryna be real. These unrealistic expectations said we'll make it if we fake it. ] // Queen (Loren Gray) [ Eyes on me like I'm a prize but you better recognize I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me. ] // The Cure (Little Mix) [ This happiness was always inside me but Lord, it took a minute to find me. ]

#musings ( playlists )#all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )#death tw #abuse tw #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #vomit tw #vomiting tw #vomit mention tw

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder.

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher.

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport.

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside.

“Joe, are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee.

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument.

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

-------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms.

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way.

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand.

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins.

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot.

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him.

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room.

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name.

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list.

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed.

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch.

-------------------------------------------------

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee.

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too.

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit.

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games.

He still sleeps on the couch that night.

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone.

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be.

---------------------------------------------

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen.

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more.

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums.

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on.

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that.

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him.

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately.

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements.

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness.

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully.

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears.

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots.

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.”

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute.

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing.

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter.

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan.

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed.

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years.

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin.

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake.

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

----------------------------------------

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply.

I told you so

#Sternclay #agent stern/barclay #winter fills #pining #taz amnesty

29 notes · View notes

goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

Text

Jaliceweek20 Day 1

Against a Wall Part 2

Jaliceweek20 Day 1: Human/Vampire

Words: 6264

Notes: It is DONE. JALICEWEEK IS DONE. I am tired, so I’ll do a wrap up tomorrow. I’m honestly not sure how happy I am with this ending - I’ll write more notes tomorrow once sleep had been acquired but there still might be a third enormous rewrite.

I’m just so excited I finished EVERY SINGLE PROMPT.

Warnings for: suicidal ideation.

—

Nineteen.

There was a shoebox under his bed with a bunch of stuff in it, that he’s collected over his life. Stuff that was special - Sorates’ collar, a rock shaped like a dog, the rubber spider his grandfather bought him from the dime store. And the last thing he put in it was an unopened back of Skittles.

He wonders where that box is now.

—

Things are hard to remember. The doctors say his memory should return, with time, and everything will stop feeling like someone scooped them all out of his brain and threw them up in the air like confetti.

He remembers… Ava. No, not Ava. Yes, Ava, his sister.

She did something.

Ava lit the fuse that had been dangling over the family for six years. Wasn’t Ava’s fault. Never blamed her. He hurt for her.

Louise found the bit of paper and freaked out, yes. It was Ava’s paper. Evidence. And Louise was shrieking. And Jerry heard.

Everybody heard. He remembers making Flo and Hettie stay in the kitchen, hide under the table if you need to (the screen door is banging, Lydia is gone like a puff of air at the first sign of trouble; wish she’d taken Flo and Hettie this time). Hettie had already been sniffling, and he’d left the kitchen.

Bang.

He’d gotten between Ava and their father.

He would have killed them both; that look in his eye. There wasn’t love or affection in that gaze. There wasn’t recognition of his children. There was just rage. That’s a look he wished he could forget; of all the things lost in the confetti, he wants to know why that moment that Jerry looked at him and Ava (Ava was bleeding, can’t remember why) is still there?

Then it’s a blur. Then there’s nothing.

Then he joins the military. He walks away entirely, with only what he can carry and doesn’t leave any parting words because there’s nothing to be said.

No. Something happens before that.

Ava packed her car, yes, packed in Hettie and Flo, suitcases and boxes, and at the last minute Lydia materialises into the passenger seat, whilst their mother tries to … beg? Yell? Ava’s face is black and blue and bandaged, and there was someone he knew who could fix that, with Mary Poppins’ bag…

Then Ava drives off, and their mom is crying, and he walks straight to the nearest recruitment office even though he doesn’t graduate for another three months because once the bomb has gone off, there’s no taking it back.

—

What was the bomb again?

Bomb. Which bomb?

Ava’s, not the one that… not the other one.

Paperwork from Planned Parenthood. There was a baby, but Ava’s already raising her sisters, so she sucked it up, stole $500 from their father’s study, and took care of it. She’d thrown the money back in their father’s face, money she got from her own account, and their father had punched her so hard he broke her nose and her orbital bone, and then it gets blurry again.

His body stings and aches and itches. He recites all the swears he knows in his head, and a few he doesn’t, and he wishes everything would put itself right again.

Bang.

—

The other bomb. That’s why he’s here, in the VA hospital. The one that was strapped to a little boy who ran up to one of the guys in his unit, grinning and clutching a soccer ball to hide the shape obscuring his torso.

Bang.

Bombs don’t sound like ‘bang’ either. They are a vacuum of noise and pain and detritus and fire and he now knows the sound-taste-smell of roasted human fresh. They are wiping out all but two members of a unit and a little boy who didn’t have a choice or an idea of what he was getting into.

The images are burnt onto his brain forever; when he closes his eyes, all he sees is a face roast black and splitting open to reveal the ruby red of the blood and muscle underneath, leaking clear and yellow fluid.

Empty, black eye sockets staring, just sticky blackened holes.

Bodies arched and twisted in pain, looking like blacked trees and burnt bark until you remember where you are and what you’re looking at and some of that burnt bark flesh is your own.

He wishes those memories would disappear.

Less than a year in the army, and already medically discharged. So much for an escape plan. Has to be a record, shortest army career in Whitlock family history. Shorter even than Uncle Wyatt’s, but Wyatt was smart enough to die outright, so it’s just a damn tragedy instead of a humiliation. He knows how the game is played.

Fuckin’ Whitlock curse comes for all of them eventually.

The skin graft hurts like hell, and the medication is still scrambling him, and even when the doctors have pulled out every last stitch, he still looks like some kind of monster pieced together from leftovers. There are still scars, dozens of scars. He asks when they’ll go, but the doctors just brush over his question - plastic surgery is the most solid of answers, but nobody wants to commit to an answer, so he guess he has it. This is how he looks now.

They fill his pockets with pills and send him on his way with their gratitude for his service, as if he has somewhere to be, someone to go to. He’s got nearly ten months of army pay just sitting there - minus a chunk that confuses him until he remembers he’s been sending money to Ava, a neat row of transactions he’s simply labelled ‘miss you’.

Should’ve sent her more.

He stays in Houston, doesn’t bother going home. There’s nothing there for him - his sisters are gone; Ava’s in Austin for college with the girls. Ava, who is somehow juggling three sisters, a college degree, probably a part-time job, and all her own pain.

Maybe he should go to Ava. But the idea of dragging himself all the way to Austin, to sleep on a couch or something, and have his sisters see this ruined version of him makes him want to hide.

The idea of his shaking hands, and the crisscross of scars, and limp being seen by sweet Hettie, dear Flo, sharp Lydia, and tired Ava; knowing they’ll hear his uneven pacing, his wild panic, his endless nightmares makes him stay away - he can’t even pick up the phone. He failed them so many times, and he can’t expect them to put him back together now. Ava’s got nothing left for herself, the others are too young; Lydia’d be graduating this year, she doesn’t need a fuckin’ ghoul of a brother hovering in the background after everything she went through. Better they remember him as he was, as the name on a receipt, that whatever he is now.

His mother is probably still there; working too many hours at the VA hospital and burning toast and being tired. She wrote to him once or twice after he left, and he hated how those letters made him feel. They were all messy apologies and excuses and blame and misery framed in the day-to-day monotony of her life. He felt her hollowness at being left, the mother of five with no children in her home. She should have been helping Lydia pick a prom dress, arranging her graduation party and college tours; driving up to visit Ava at college; sending him inedible cookies; dropping Flo off on her first date, and spoiling baby Hettie even though she’s almost in middle school. But she couldn’t. Because they’d all walked away.

He didn’t write back. He was too angry then, and now he’s … nothing. She feels like a ghost to him, like she died the first day Jerry hit him, and she slowly faded away every Tuesday after that.

And Ava’s the only name on his paperwork, for next of kin and power of attorney shit; and that’s only so she could have his money when he was gone.

His father’s still in Sheldon, he has no doubt of that. He hopes Jerry dies in that empty old house, abandoned by everyone he should have loved better, cared for better and surrounded only by the bottles that he let salt the earth and poison his family.

His uncles are still there, as reliable as the rising and setting of the sun, most likely ready and waiting to jeer at Jasper for his wasted attempt as a soldier, for his patchwork of skin and scars, for his limp and his confetti memory; to fail so fantastically after ten lousy months. No diploma, no future, no plan.

Not even old enough for a fuckin’ drink.

Still a better shot than Bo, though. Sometimes he wants to ask them, though, to look ‘em in the eye and demand to know what they expected from him - the sole Whitlock boy, the heir to a name that meant sweet fuck-all these days - when all they did was punch him when he was down? That letting a kid get beat up, then get insulted and demeaned and mocked and yelled at… that didn’t create a good man, that didn’t create a happy, successful person. They did everything they damn well could to see him gone, failed, erased and that was before he joined the goddamn army. There was no brotherhood in the Whitlock name. Even if he had gotten out unscathed, he would have run til no one knew him, and he wouldn’t have gone home again.

But he didn’t, and here he is having bitter arguments with old men who aren’t even there.

He sits in his motel room, takes his pills with water from the bathroom, and occasionally remembers to find food. He doesn’t sleep well on the hard, musty motel bed; the nightmares come in waves even when his brain is like mush from the medications. A car door slamming, a yell from the street, the smell of cooking meat - it all sends him skittering, panicking, pacing. He can’t stop moving, and his bad knee swells up and finally he gets his hand on some liquor and he ends up slung into the stained bathtub barely able to think. Definitely not able to stand.

He just wants it to stop.

The mostly-empty bottle hits the grimy tiles and smashes, but he thinks of a girl with amber eyes and a magic bag and a watch that she gave him - hurled at him. He remembers sleeping on a cold, bony shoulder in an alley, her voice sweet and warm.

She was so mad with him that last night. He did end up back behind Dewey’s again, on more than one Tuesday, but he didn’t see her again. And it wasn’t long after that when everything went to hell, so he never got to say goodbye. Say sorry for being a dick.

He can’t quite remember what they were arguing about that last night. Whiskey and valium have chased that memory away, and his head slumps over as he sleeps. Or looses consciousness. Either way, he doesn’t have to exist for awhile, and it suits him just fine.

—

Time passes. He finds a cheaper motel, because there’s a corner of his brain that is somehow still functional and practical, and he knows what money he has has to be stretched. Someone from the VA calls his cellphone and he ignores it. He takes his pills - less than usual, because they’re running out.

His knee hurts.

He breaks a lamp and the mirror after a nightmare, and ends up at urgent care getting his knuckles stitched up by some intern who asks him too many questions. Tries to give him pamphlets, and he resists the urge to punch the doctor in the face.

The doctor does write him new prescriptions though. That’s helpful. And he gets something to eat at the cafeteria. It starts out as a bad night and ends up being one of those mornings he almost feels human, as long as he doesn’t look in the mirror.

That’s why he picks up the phone when the VA call again.

That’s how he finds himself sitting outside the VA hospital with a paper bag of the shit he left behind. His mother’s letters, his dog-tags, and an extremely broken watch.

“Happy freakin’ birthday.”

He looks at it closely now, more closely than he did when he was given it - even if it was thrown at his head, it was a gift in his mind. The brown leather strap is stained and nearly torn through, and the brass buckle bent. The face is cracked in an almost perfect spiral. The face is mottled cream, with neat gold Roman numerals; several have come loose and rattle along the bottom, along with the minute hand. It no works, and he hopes that the internal gears are still functional.

The watch will need to be repaired professionally, to be taken apart and pieced back together. A new glass face and band, the numerals and hands put back in the rightful place.

He doesn’t even remember wearing it, that last day. He knew he had it with him the entire time, through basic training and everything, but he didn’t remember wearing it. He’d had some chunky digital thing that told him the weather and GPS and shit that had been responsible for the mutilation of his left wrist.

Carefully it into his jacket, Jasper stands and begins the walk back to the motel.

Nineteen, still.

Sometimes, he thinks about going back to Dewey’s, just to see if she ever turns up again, on a Tuesday. For some reason, when he thinks of her - Miss Alice, in her funny clothes, and her lilting voice - he thinks of her exactly how he remembers her, that she is fixed in time and will never change. That he could return to that alley a week, a year, a decade from now, and she will still be there with her bag of tricks and big golden eyes.

He thinks about her a lot. He never knew where she came from, how old she was, why she spent Tuesday nights in an alley with him. He hopes she’s safe, comfortable, and happy.

He hopes she still thinks of him.

Time marches on, and he can see his twentieth birthday rushing up to greet him. He’s done nothing to change his circumstances - the cheapest hotel room, a fistful of pills on an empty stomach, patchwork sleep haunted by corpses. The PTSD special.

He finds a bar that respects his service more than his age, and they’re happy to let him drink himself numb in the corner as long as he doesn’t make trouble, and slips out the back if the cops come round. But even when they do, and get a good look at the scars, at his jacket, at the look in his eyes, they usually just nod and move along. No one asks questions, just counts out his crumpled money and then slides his drink along the bar.

Life doesn’t feel worth much on those nights.

Stumbling back to the motel, drunk and dull, he never notices the footsteps. He just goes to his room, his home, and passes out on a stained bedcover fulling clothed, waiting for the nightmares to kick in.

—

When the nightmares press in on him, and he’s lying on the bed staring at the discoloured popcorn ceiling, all he really wants is to go home again.

Not to Sheldon.

To the ranch.

Before Hettie, before Tuesdays, before everything. Where they buried Socrates under the tree with the treehouse, where he learned to ride, and would catch rabbits, and everything was easy. He still got told off by his father for being such a disappointment, but back then, they still had the family property, so his father wasn’t so angry.

He’s stone cold sober - aside from the Vicodin and Valium rattling around in his stomach - when he decides to go home again. He even stops in at a grimy diner and shovels in a plate of eggs and some coffee before he buys the bus ticket.

He knows the old place never sold; bank couldn’t shift it. Sold some of the land, but the old farmhouse just sits there, rotting. The Whitlock curse strikes again and again, into the heart of everything.

It’s a long trip; only way out there by bus is to go via San Antonio, and then down towards the old farm on another rural bus that only runs a few times a day. And he didn’t think much about how to get from the last bus stop to the old house proper, but some old guy in a truck takes a good hard look at him - his stained jacket, his limp, the scars twisting around his limbs and under his clothes, and offers to take him wherever he’s going.

He’s stiff and sore and hungry, but he doesn’t worry about any of that. The driver’s polite, amicable, doesn’t ask too many questions but gives him the number of the only cab in town for his return trip. He nods his thanks, and begins limping up the old driveway, towards home.

The house is… sad. Not like his memories, of blood red geraniums in the window boxes, and a pile of sneakers and boots in a jumble by the front door. There aren’t any bikes leaning up against the porch railings, either. Hell, the porch has a hole in it, the wooden rotten through. The yard is an overgrown tangle - probably concealing a few snakes.

The treehouse has long since collapsed, the wooden remains jutting out from the overgrown grass like a shipwreck. Socrates’ little grave is probably still there, under it all, with the brick he and Lydia painted his name on. He was a good cat.

He’s not going to go into the house, and now that he’s here, he’s not sure why he came at all. It’s just a house he once lived in, like Sheldon. But there is something peaceful about being back here, sitting on the - thankfully brick - front steps and staring out at the road. No cars come by, neighbours are too far away to matter. It’s just him.

He lets his thoughts float. More than once, he’s wished he’d been able to keep his service weapon, finish the job the bomb started. He thought about other ways - swallowing all his pills till there’s nothing left in the bottle; buying some razor blades and cutting along his seams; finding a motel with rafters he can loop a belt around. But he doesn’t. He hasn’t. He doesn’t know why - the thought is like a mischievous cat looming over his shoulder. The cat with a too-big smile, from Hettie’s books. Sinister yet convincing and trustworthy. But the thought lingers, and right now, he wishes he’d come prepared because … it’s quiet here. It’s quiet and he associates it with good things, and he’s really, really tired.

His VA shrink said that disassociation was a common symptom of PTSD. There were methods of dealing with it, techniques he could use, but he didn’t bother remembering them. Sometimes it was nice not to feel things, to be entirely seperate from himself for awhile.

When he comes back to himself, the afternoon has turned to night, and he’s an idiot sitting outside an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, in a town with one cab. He swears under his breath, and the two braincells that are still desperately trying to keep him alive blaze into action, as he fumbles for his cellphone.

At least it isn’t dead.

He doesn’t even notice the sound as he dials, but as the phone rings he looks up in confusion, as a woman walks up the drive. She’s small enough for his heart to jump in misguided hope, waiting for that smile, those eyes, and that stupid bag that he placed so much faith in.

Her eyes are red, and her hair is long and brown. Her lips stretch too far like that stupid cat, and she takes the phone from him so gently and crushes it into a find powder. And he wishes he’d stayed drunk and high instead of staying sober and coming back to his childhood home like some kind of fucking book character.

She calls him ‘mi amor’ and apologises for what comes next.

He tries to back away, but stumbles on his bad knee, and when she hurls him back up effortlessly, she dislocates his shoulder and probably breaks his arm, and for a moment his vision swims and he yells, and that is only the very beginning of the pain.

—

In his few lucid moments over the next seventy-two hours, he wonders when he gets to stop suffering. When he finds the end of the tunnel of pain, from Tuesdays behind Dewey’s, to being half-burned alive, to be put back together and drugged senseless to function, to whatever this woman has done to him.

It feels kind of like the bomb did, except like it is taking him slowly. If he could open his eyes, he’d expected himself to be blackened and splitting, like the crust of a volcano.

If he could be sick, he would.

He thinks he screams himself hoarse. He might just think about doing it.

Red eyes watch him the entire time, with the ruby-coloured too-big smile, and if he still believed in god or fate or family curses or anything aside from the slow drip of pain in this veins, he would think she was the devil incarnate.

—

Time passes. He doesn’t know how much, since he woke up in the rotting remains of his family’s home with a burn in his throat, and Maria waiting for him. She’s quick to reassure him of his new status as a god, quick to find him something to quench the burn (the boy is young but strong and bulky; probably a high school football player. Healthy and full of blood and cries for his momma when Jasper half-rips his throat out. She is quick to caress his cheek and to kiss him long and deep and to fuck him in the wreckage of the house.

Maria’s clan is small - only nine of them counting him. They are suspicious of him, of the way he stares and stays quiet. But Maria is quick to ease any of his own misgivings - newborns are entirely unpredictable, volatile. He is her new pet, her treasure, her mijo.

He loves what he is, truly. He leaves the pill bottles rattling in his pockets in the dirt of the farmhouse floor, and strides confidently after his new mistress. His leg is strong again, and all the scars have melted away into smooth, hard stone. He came to the farm looking for something, and he found it - himself, the way he was always supposed to be. If life had been kinder.

He’s found himself a soldier in another war, but war is a lot easier when you aren’t weighed down with equipment or fear or stupid fucking rules. When winning a battle means glutting yourself on blood, and losing means instant death, and there’s nothing in-between.

They are so fast now, hunting grounds stretch from Monterrey to Corpus Christie to San Antonio.

He refuses to go to Austin but sometimes its hard to remember why. He nearly kills Lucy when she tries to take the others to Austin, and Maria’s lips purse but she says nothing and they go to Laredo instead. They create a few more newborns, but he notices Maria’s attention to him never wavers; they are like pets, whilst he is her devoted prince.

(Later, he’ll find out it was only six god-damned months he lost. That he turned twenty and Lydia graduated somewhere in an Austin high school, and a bunch of people - mostly social workers and VA employees - were looking for him with the fear of the worst. He’d tell them that whatever ‘worse’ was, they weren’t even close.)

They figure out his gift during one furious early battle that leaves his arms and neck littered with bite marks, and they don’t go away. The venom works too fast, the bites are too deep, and he is once again a mess. A monster. His rage ripples around the camp, and everyone huddles in on themselves, and even Maria cowers a little, cooing and trying to settle him.

He makes them afraid, he makes them tremble, he tries to force them into fixing the unfixable.

Maria is so pleased with his gift, he is never punished for his tantrum. And more bite marks layer upon his skin; when he frets over them, with a sneer on his face, she laughs and promises he’ll have many, many more before they are done.

—

Nineteen, always.

Reconnaissance in the back of Houston is required, and Jasper and Maria take a small group with them. Maria is insistent there are others on their lands, and that is a crime of the highest order. They will destroy the newcomers, feed, and return to Monterrey. They each pick a point of Houston, and agree to meet in the centre.

He is ordered to the northeast, and he goes without resistance; he knows soldiering is following orders, and Maria lets his resistance to Austin go unremarked upon.

Most of his human memories are hazy, like they are so very much older than they really are. The streets he stalks are almost familiar, and he keeps his head low - more because of the blazing red of his eyes than any fear of being recognised.

There’s an aged but enticing aroma that he follows, that smells of nice, soft things; not fresh enough to guarantee a confrontation (or execution), but one that is a regular in this part of town.

It’s late enough there are few people in the street, in this working-class part of town. Even the dive bar has gone dark, and only the drunks and shift workers are left stumbling around. It’s not even hard to snag one of the less aware drunks around the wrist and vanish around into the alley with him.

His blood is nothing memorable, and it’s not hard to make the drunk look like he tripped and slashed his neck on a smashed bottle in the alley. He’s good at staging these scenes; at making things look like terrible, despicable accidents.

“Oh, Jasper.”

The words are soft and murmured, and he can’t decide whether they are sad or relieved or something in between. All he knows is that there is a sweet-smelling threat behind him, and he spins around with a snarl.

She’s only as tall as a child, with uneven black hair curling around her cheeks. She’s one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, with huge amber-coloured eyes that remind him of porcelain dolls. She’s wearing a sky blue sweater a size too big over jeans with stars on the knees, and staring at him with hope and regret.

In the back of his brain, that little bit that is not quite human and not quite animals looks at her hard and breathes in her roses-and-rainwater scent and simply thinks, “Yes. Good.”

But the louder part recognises her as the trail he has been following, the one that Maria wants destroyed. A growl rumbles from within him, and the girl just looks sad.

“I’m so, so sorry Jasper,” she says, still standing there, not the least be defensive. “Carlisle and Edward forced me to stay away once you left, and then I tried to watch you but I lost track of where you were…” Her eyes are shiny, as if she wants to cry. “Do you remember who I am?”

The question hangs in the air between them, his growl fading away as he stares at her.

She steps closer, and he glares at her. The animal brain is getting louder - “Yes-good-yes-good-yes-good.” Her emotions are threatening, mostly sad, and she’s tiny. Nothing bad could be so dainty and pretty.

She’s right in front of him, standing on her toes as she presses her hand to his face. “I’m Alice,” she says simply, and his mind folds itself over and over again in an instant to provide him with an answer to this riddle, to this girl that is so clearly something good and known to him.

And he remembers.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s a stupid fucking decision you’re about to make.”

“At least I didn’t break it worse.”

“Happy freakin’ birthday.”

"They just looked nice. Happy.”

“I’ve come too far to watch you die in this disgusting place,”

“Alice,” he says hoarsely, and his memories of her are clear, sharp. He can remember that one strand of hair that always fell into her face; her ice cold hands roughly patching him up; the constant, lilting companionship of her voice, even when he slept. She is so clear in his mind he wonders how he forgot her in the first place.

Her smile and emotions bloom with joy all at once, and it warms him all the way through. It’s the kind of happiness that eluded him during his human life, and one he has not felt, waking up with this gift that feels like everyone’s emotions are constantly crawling on him. It’s something he wants to wrap himself in like armour.

“I’m so, so sorry,” her fingers brush a scar on his neck so gently, he wants to shudder.

“What for?” he asks, wanting to know if he can touch her. She’s so pretty and clean and is a good thing, a precious thing.

“I see things. Things that are going to happen,” Alice says, as she inspects his arm with a frown. “And when I saw what was going to happen to you in the army, I got mad that I couldn’t protect you anymore. And when you came home, I didn’t realise she was following you until it was too late and I couldn’t work out where you’d ended up. I would have come sooner if I’d known, I swear.” She turns his arm over to reveal a bite mark on his wrist and impulsively kisses it.

He flinches; the contact magnifies her emotions - and his - and it skitters pleasantly along his body.

“I don’t…” he begins, his voice still gravelly from lack of use. “I don’t blame you.”

“I do,” she replies softly, and then she backs away and that is disappointing enough that he takes a step closer to her. She giggles and smiles at him again, and he will follow her anywhere.

“You have to make a choice now,” she says, and he nods hypnotically.

“You can go back to Maria,” her voice wavers again, and he doesn’t like the coldness that sweeps through her at that statement. “And fight and kill until she’s bored with you. She creates war and destruction and monsters, Jasper, and I don’t want you to go with her. She will destroy you, and I couldn’t bear it if…” She stops, turning her head away and stays silent for a moment.

“Or,” her voice is steady again, “you can come with me.”

She holds out her hand.

“My brothers and sisters are distracting Maria and her friends for now, you and I can get away, and go somewhere safe,” she continues. “Just you and me together. I can…”

He never knows what she was going to say because his choice is made, his hand taking hers without a second thought, and she stares up at him with wide eyes, her mouth a perfect ‘o’.

“Are you sure?” she manages, and he nods. He thinks of pain, human and immortal. He thinks of rage and regret. He thinks of his lowest point as a human, of the permanent bite marks on his arms, and the weight that has only shifted now that he’s immortal, not lifted away.

He thinks of being happy and safe and clean and peaceful. He thinks of a girl sitting next to him in an alley, with her throat burning, but her only worry about his bruises.

The girl who can back for him.

Everything is still muddled, from his human life, but he knows that lot of people took him apart and remade him in both his lives. She’s the only one who tried to heal him.

“Let’s go,” he says, and she laughs sweetly, and then they are running faster than anyone can see as they disappear into the night.

—

‘Home’ is a cabin in the middle of the forest, somewhere towards the north east, he thinks. No people around, just wild animals for him to glut himself on. There is the constant running of the river beside them, covering their scent against nomads. It is quiet here - a good place to figure out the edges of his gift, to learn resistance and control, to try and heal and reconcile all that happened to him in such a short space of time.

Alice tells him Maria was indescribably desperate after his disappearance; their exit covered by a well-time rainstorm that washed all the scents away. She had torn apart Houston in her fury, and now she was in more trouble than she knew.

Meaning that Maria wouldn’t come hunting for him any time soon. And, he supposes, when she does, Alice will know. Alice knows everything.

She knows that he likes to sit on their front steps and just stare out at the forest without being disturbed. That the scent of smoke and fire sends him twitching worse than any vampire she’s ever met. That the scars that mark his arms, neck, and face are simply placeholders for the ones he gained as a human, and his disgust over them lingers from the injuries he suffered in war. That he misses his sisters, and they are one of the reasons he is so resolute in his control training. That, if nothing else, he will say good bye and fake his death to give them closure. Alice promises him that she knows someone who can help them figure all those kinds of details out, but she wants him to see his sisters one last time almost as badly.

He knows that Alice loves him, as truly as anyone has loved before. That feeling never wavers, not through his rages, his depressions, his disassociation. That just watching him read a book on their (broken) couch has joy blooming inside her. He knows that Alice will never pressure him, never ask him for more than he is ready to give - and because of that, he is willing to give her anything she asks.

Some days are harder than others, especially when Alice talks to him about her family - the one she walked away from for him - and he knows that she wants the both of them to return to the Cullens sometime in the future. And he feels obliged to do it, eventually, since her jumble of siblings were a part of his escape plan - the most dangerous part, if it involved aggravating Maria. But she never asks, just talks to him about them.

But mostly, he’s okay. Good, even. Animal blood is disappointing, and sometimes he’s so agitated he can’t sit still and wishes for … a battle, to run, to do something other than sit, and read, and hunt animals, and talk. Alice blames it on his newborn year, and he tries so hard to contain it, but it’s hard.

She tries to make it better, and on days that he can stand to be touched, she teaches him all the old-fashioned dances she knows, and he spins her around and sometimes it does make it better.

He’s got regrets, a laundry list of them, but Alice says that isn’t unusual; it takes very specific circumstances to be changed - especially young - and be satisfied with the final outcome. When he asks her regrets, she shrugs and admits that she doesn’t even remember being human. Leaving him unprotected is her biggest regret, and that makes her sad, which he doesn’t like the feeling of.

So he puts his arm around her, and she curls against him, and that makes the sadness evaporate, and she beams up at him with golden eyes he could drown in, and one thing he will admit is - that despite the pain and unhappiness that followed him from human to immortal - that he will never, even regret taking her hand.

#my fic: against a wall #my writing: against a wall #jaliceweek20 #jasper hale #alice cullen #twilight fic #jalice

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foutbolimajine · 4 years

Text

please, just leave me alone. ⦁ ruben loftus-cheek pt. 2

word count: 2053 ⦁ short/medium/(too damn) long

(rqst), tw [miscarriage]

For the first time in a long time (seven months to be exact), I felt hurt. Betrayed. Foolish. I was freezing cold and burning hot at the same time. I’d taken the long way to my flat, took an extra lengthy shower, and cuddled with my dog (all while crying my eyes out) and yet. The next morning and I still felt like absolute shit. The worst part of it all was Vinny. She knew how much pain I’d been in the last seven months. She was there with me all through the stages of heartbreak. I’d cried on her shoulder, on her couch, in her bed, and in her cereal on one occasion. She had stressed how he wasn’t going to be there all week and while I would never admit it out loud, it’s the only reason I told Juliette I would come to her party.

I let out a groan before finally turning back on my phone that immediately started going off with notifications. I would pretend to be surprised, but I’m not. I’d put my phone on do not disturb and airplane mode but that didn’t stop the incessant badgering from Ruben and his family. After I left, the entirety of the Loftus-Cheek clan began mass texting/calling/FaceTiming/DMing me on literally every platform possible. I’m sure there’s a lonely message in my kik inbox from Isaac just begging me to hear out his P.O.S. brother. Or maybe a message from Ruben himself lies in my old, embarrassing email that he always teased me about when we first met. I snort at the thought of Ruben emailing [email protected].

The thought only kept the miniscule smile on my face for so long. I finally huff and call Lavinia, she being the LC that had absolutely wrecked my inboxes more so than the others.

“Ayla? Ayla! I am so sorry! I swear to God I didn’t know Ruben was coming. He wasn’t even supposed to be in town. He didn’t think you’d come so he decided to surprise everyone. I promise I would never do this to you purposefully. I don’t even know what possessed him to bring her, but they’re not even friends! They both swear it and Rubes feels terrible. He cried, Ayla. Like actually bawled in our living room. He misses you so much. We all feel so bad. There was barely any time to warn you since they came literally like five minutes before us. I’m so sorry.” She picks up and doesn’t let out so much as a “Hello?” before she begins rambling. I suppose knowing that she also didn’t know makes me feel a little better.

“H-he cried?” God, you are pathetic, woman! One tear (that you didn’t even see) and you’re ready to forgive him?

“Yes, Ayla. It was totally bizarre. Mum could barely console him.” I close my eyes and inwardly groan at how weak I am. Or rather, how weak he made me.

“I’ll um, call him. Same number?” I mumble, even though I knew it was from the several new messages from “cheeky ❤️” sitting in my inbox as we speak. Vinny let’s out an undignified squeal that causes my dog, Ira’s ears to perk up. She apologizes at least 50 times more before finally hanging up and leaving me alone to do what I said I would. Although, there were dishes in my sink. And I needed to vacuum my lounge. And Ira’s toys were thrown all over my office. There was so much more to do than talk to my cheating ex.

I bend down to pick Ira up and kiss his head. “Yeah, we’re entirely too busy to deal with that right now. Aren’t we, buddy?” He of course doesn’t answer, but I know he agrees with me. So I spend the next six hours doing literally any and everything to not focus on my situationship. And when the last candle had been lit, and all my emails completely cleaned out, I sat on my bed with my phone staring back at me.

“I should read his messages first, right?” Ira continues to chew his rope on the other side of the room. “Right. Just a dog.” I sigh and finally unlock my phone. First thing first, that contact name has to go.

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: ayla please answer my calls. please it’s not what you think it is

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: i miss you. so much

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: i’m not w sheena. it was a mistake. please babe

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: i love you ayla. please answer me

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: i know why you’re upset but please just let me explain!

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: i remember you saying how loving and being in love were different. and you were right. i'm so in love with you ayla yanna cooper. so so so in love

ruben loftus-cheeks for everybody: im sorry

I don’t realize I’m crying until my vision blurs and my phone screen turns wet. For seven months I’d tried to wrap my brain around what happened to us. Why me? Was I not enough? Was it because I didn’t make him a father? What did Sheena have that I didn’t? Everyday, for all those months, a thousand and one thoughts of him ran through my head and didn’t think to look both ways before crossing my mind. Sometime between my initial heartbreak and my “getting over it” I had convinced myself that Ruben didn’t love me. That he hadn’t loved me for the three and a half years we’d been together romantically, or for the two years prior that we’d just been best friends. Damn you, Ruben Loftus-Cheek.

The phone doesn’t ring twice before it’s picked up. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s there by the slow breathing on the other side of the line.

“Ruben-”

“Ayla-”

We both let out awkward chuckles before I tell him that he can go first. “I would actually much rather do this in person...if that’s okay with you?” He asks gingerly. It wasn’t okay with me at all, actually. Not even a little bit. Who did he think he was? Of course the answer is no.

“Uh, s-sure. I’ll text you my address. Bye.” I hang up before he can respond and immediately throw my phone. “SURE? SURE? REALLY AYLA? SURE?” I scream into my pillow, completely shocked at how much of a dumbass I really was. I take two (hundred) deep breaths while on the search to find my phone, trying to buy myself both time and a peace of mind. It had somehow wedged itself between Ira’s dog bed and my dresser, but unfortunately wasn’t broken. At least then I’d have an excuse as to why I never responded. I quickly type out my address and let the doorman know to let him up and then put my phone on the charger so I don’t touch it.

It feels like all too soon the buzz of my doorbell sounds throughout my flat and Ira bolts out my bedroom. Ira hadn’t seen his dad in months, the last time being when Isaac had watched him for me while I traveled to America on business. I was positive their reunion would be significantly better than ours had been. With one final breath, I open the door and allow Ira to take all of Ruben’s attention while I looked at him.

It was clear he’d left immediately from his gray sweats and wrinkled white tee. He’d chosen slides to accompany his mix-matched socks, and was lacking a jacket despite the cool weather. He also hadn’t shaved, which is something I always liked. His eyes were red and puffy, something I’m sure we shared in common. And while I hate to admit it, despite every disgruntled thing about him, my heart still beat faster in his presence.

I clear my throat and he finally looks at me. “Um, come in?” He walks past me with Ira in his arms and I nearly faint. Still found time to put on that cologne. “Do you...want something to drink? Forgive me, I didn’t exactly have enough time to pull out the charcuterie board.” He laughs at my sarcasm and shakes his head. “I’m good, thank you. Can we sit?” So we do, and the air immediately gets thicker.

“You read my messages?” He asks, sheepishly. I nod in response, not trusting my voice enough to give him a verbal answer. “I mean it, Ayla. I am so, so in love with you. Never in this life would I ever hurt you purposefully. That night was a mistake. I was never going to let it get that far. She-”

“I don’t want to talk about that night, Ruben. You said you wanted to talk so here we are: talking. What happened, happened. I saw it with all two of my eyes. There’s nothing much you can do to explain yourself there. I don’t care what she did; I’m not- I wasn’t in a relationship with her. I don’t know her, nor do I ever want to. She didn’t promise to love me, to be faithful to me. She wasn’t who I was sleeping next to at night. She wasn’t who I put love, energy, and time into for three and a half years. I didn’t-” I can’t help the tears that begin to fall. “I didn’t lose her baby.” Ruben tries to hold me and I push him away. “You’re not allowed to do that anymore.”

I find the courage to look at his face and see how absolutely broken he looks. I may sound like a monster but that look on his face, it did make me feel just a bit better. It was nice to know the feeling was mutual. I struggled so much in the last year. I’d lost my baby, my boyfriend, and consequently my home. I was uprooted and I literally felt like I was walking on new legs for so long. And now, just when I was getting my shit together, he decided to come back and undo most of the work I’d done to make the broken puzzle I was, whole again. He should feel broken, because I was.

He clears his throat and grabs my hand. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about then. Let’s talk about right now; me and you. Right now, I miss you and I love you. And I would do anything in this world to have you back. You didn’t lose the baby; we did. And in my grief I made a bad decision I wish I could take back, but I can’t. What I can promise you though, I will spend the rest of my life trying to win you back because there is no one in this world more perfect for me than you, Ayla Tanya Cooper. Plus...I miss Ira.”

I roll my eyes and begrudgingly let the smile I was holding back show on my face. I jump as Ruben shoots out his seat and runs around the couch, whooping. “We got a smile!” He shouts, Ira running and barking closely behind him. I grab a throw pillow and cover my face. Jesus, what am I going to do with this man. He flops down beside me and sends me that killer smile. “So?”

“I never want to see you with that woman again.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Done.”

I squint at him. “I mean it, Ruben.”

“Me too. She randomly saw me and asked what plans I had last night. She invited herself, I swear. She’s gone, I promise.”

“And we have to be friends again before anything else. You have a lot of trust to earn back.”

His bottom lip folds in as his cheeks raise. “As long as you let me back in your life, we can work on the rest.”

I silently pray before sighing. “Fine. Whatever, of course. You’re in.” I roll my eyes again at his excitement. This time he runs all over the room before crushing me in a hug. “Thank you, Ayla.” He whispers in my ear. “You won’t regret it.” I hum and just bask in the feeling of holding him close again.

#ruben loftus cheek #ruben loftus cheek imagine #hope yall enjoy #soccer imagines #football imagines

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okimargarvez · 4 years

Text

REVERSE - 21

Original title: Reverse.

Prompt: Penelope is the new girl on the BAU team and Luke tries to treat her cold.

Warning: A.U., possible OOC.

Genre: drama, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Derek Morgan, O.C. Sam Cooper’ team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 62 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘👓🔦🐶❗🎲🎈👻🎬🎵.

Song mentioned: Amici per errore, Tiziano Ferro.

Reverse- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

This part is dedicated to @londonrosebooklovingwitch and @inlovewithgarvaz ^^

21 # It's another journey, put it in this way...

It is another hug to upset the balance laboriously reached by Agent Alvez. However, the female protagonist is different. He is drinking a coffee when he recognizes the sound of those steps. Low-heeled shoes. Since she became a mother, this is the best she can afford. How many times has she complained to JJ and the two laughed at it, together. He looks up at her but shakes his head in disbelief. It must be a vision. She is beautiful, dressed entirely in various shades of gray, trousers, naturally; she never loved skirts. The first thing he notices, when he realizes that she is real, is that she has cut her hair. Then she literally jumps on him. -Luke, oh God, Luke, you are okay!- she hugs him so tight that it takes his breath away. He does the same, feeling safe, serene, stretching his nostrils to pick up her scent... that has changed. He strokes her back, then gently detaches her from himself. However, she instantly kidnaps his hand.

-Of course, I'm fine, but what are you doing here?- Chrissie nails her nails into the soft flesh of his palm. -Not that I want to complain...- here, already better, her clear, cerulean eyes seem to warn him. She finally leaves him free. Not that he wanted it, as he said... it's just that it's strange. He struggled to get used to her absence.

-I received a message from Emily telling me that you had been injured and you were very serious.- she says, starting to breathe normally, now that she is sure that he is well. If he hadn't been so fond of risking, of being on the front line, perhaps she would have hesitated a little more. -I called you and you didn't answer.- Luke lifts his cell phone, screen black. She shakes her head. He will never learn to use chargers correctly. -I ran to Quantico, even if there was something that didn’t convince me...- or rather, precisely because there was something unclear. Why pretend she doesn't miss working for BAU?

The brunette lifts her phone and shows him the text message, as well as the sender. She leans against him, naturally. It is certainly not the first time and Rich has learned not to be jealous of it. Because then it seems... no, wrong would be a blasphemy. But it's not strange either, the right adjective. It's different. But it should be there another woman so calmly in his arms. He knows exactly who, but he'll continue to play the role of the dumb, at least for a little while longer. -No, it's better to discuss it with the rest of the team.- this time he's taking her by the hand. -Come on.- they cross the bullpen.

A cry is heard from the balcony, where the offices of the highest members are located. -Christine!- the woman runs down the stairs. Luke smiles, witnessing the repatriation.

-Emily!- another hug. -You really deserved to become the boss, I've always seen you well in the leadership roles.- the two immediately begin to chuckle, as if it were not true that they haven't seen each other for years. -JJ, my beloved blonde.- the former expert in communications with the press and media joins them.

-Chri, how nice to have you here!- comments the latter, with shining eyes.

She is much more cold; she always has been. So deeply similar to him, so deeply opposed to... -Same.- she then turns to the other man. -Rossi...- who shakes his head, dragging her into his arms.

-My little mouse who is too busy to write to me...- it is an affectionate rebuke.

She smiles and shrugs. -I'm sorry, I’m guilty.- she declares. One person is still missing, except for Spencer who cannot be present, even if he is finally out of prison. A nice relief. - Tara, how's your brother?- she asks.

She knew what happened in these months even though she wasn't here, mentally notes Luke. -Better, thank you and your Lise?- the pride of a mother paints her face.

-Oh, it's a little monster, she makes us despair, Rich and I don't sleep for more than two hours in a row...- only one can really understand her. It is she who comments.

-But it's still worth it, isn't it?- only then the man realizes that Garcia, Penelope, deliberately remained on the sidelines, probably feeling excluded from that parenthesis of joy. He can't help feeling a wave of sadness, but he doesn't do anything to change things. Stephanie is distant too, but she seems less affected by the whole thing.

-Every day.- she answers, becoming serious. Then she shows the same message to others.

Prentiss forces herself to take matters into her own hands. -Unfortunately, Christine is not here for a pleasure visit.- she says and everyone goes to the round table room (as Reid's mother had called it the first time she entered, after all she was an English literature teacher). Penelope comes in last.

Christine sighs, preparing to explain. -I received a message from Prentiss that made me believe that Alvez was injured during a mission.- she senses everyone's eyes on himself. She was no longer used to it, but it's a good feeling. -Someone must have hacked her cell phone and since I made it 99% secure, as much as mine... It must be a genius in my field.- she concludes.

-Seems like the typical skill of Scratch.- Walker reflects aloud.

Luke nods. -Unfortunately, Chri was unable to trace the address from which the hacking was carried out.- the blonde with glasses tries not to focus on the amber hand that is affectionately stroking his best friend's arm.

She sighs, seeing that nobody takes the floor. -I could try to give you help... Together we will surely make it.- she smiles, but looks only at the woman.

-Penelope Garcia, right?- she approaches her, to shake her hand. - It's like meeting my favorite Rockstar.- here she managed to make her blush. She hears giggles, one is Luke's. -It's nice to meet you, although I would have preferred a different circumstance...- she nods. They are so different that it’s impressive. Agent Alvez seems to be living in a parallel reality. His best friend and his... his nothing.

-Same.- she gives her an open smile. And then, she says it. -I've heard a lot about you.- with that cheeky tone. Chrissie glances over her shoulder.

She purses her lips in an amused grimace. -I bet I can guess the source.- Garcia laughs at her joke. He knew they would like each other. It was so obvious.

But it still bothers him that they joke in common on him. It is too strange. -Could we go back to Scratch?- he asks, sounding a little too desperate.

Emily gives him a hand, for other reasons. -Well, now we'll leave Christine and Garcia to work at the address.- the two nod in sync. Then she spreads her arms. -We can't do anything else.- all of them go out, except the nominated ones.

Christine touches her shoulder. -Can I be excused, Penelope?- the blonde nods. She closes her eyes once, driving away the tears. She knows perfectly well where (by whom) she is going.

She finds him exactly where she had imagined. On the balcony, watching the weather become progressively wintery. Luke turns to look at her. -Hey, honey, shouldn't you take care of the source?- his tone is sweet. She nods.

-Yes, but I must also tell you something else and I am sure Penelope will be well for five minutes.- as she could do it all alone, but she doesn’t add it.

He takes a moment. -She's not as good as you are.- he says stubbornly. Chrissie shakes her head in open disagreement.

She points a finger at him, accusingly. -Here, you see, that was what I wanted to say.- he swallows. -Em' and JJ told me.- here's the real source, thinks a crazy part of his brain, trying to escape from the moment of truth. -Don't you think you could be a little nicer to her?- there is no self-control when he is with her. He opens his mouth wide like a teenager caught smoking marijuana by his parents. -Come on, did you see her well? She is a ray of sunshine, the most sensitive and affectionate person in the Bureau, if not the entire universe.- he rolls his eyes, annoyed by the fact that she is so much right, yet this is not enough for him.

He sighs, before making his admission. -Yes, but... She's not you.- she nods.

-One more reason to do it.- she pushes him amicably. -Luke, you know I miss you very much too, but I saw how you look at her, you know? And how she looks at you.- and it's not even her specialization, analyzing people's behavior. -I don't need to be a profiler.- she reads his mind.

This doesn’t mean that he will give up without a fight. -You won't want to insinuate... No!- he shouts, frightening a sparrow resting on the ledge. -I can hardly stand her, she with all those trinkets on her wrists, on her hands, that golden hair and her inappropriate and out of place jokes...- Christine shakes her head, giving him a (weak) punch on the chest.

-Alvez, you really are a fool about women.- it wasn’t the first time she told him. -Do as you like, now I have to go back to the office.- she starts and then stops, turning to look at him. -But you know that you're throwing a wonderful opportunity in the toilet... And all because she took my place.- she loves her refined way of expressing herself. As Orpheus should have done to bring his beloved Eurydice back to the world of the living, she doesn’t look back. As soon as she enters the round room, Garcia gestures for her to join her.

She indicates the screen. -Hey, maybe I found a way around that block.- she says shyly. She is quite convinced that much of the blame lies with that idiot of her best friend. But if he thinks she will sit idly...

-Penelope, you are a true genius.- she gives her a quick hug.

-Thanks, I...- she hesitates. -I'm going to tell the others.- Christine gives her the approval. It is up to her now. Just two minutes and everyone is there again, even the jerk.

-Now we can catch him.- Emily announces. -Wheels up in 5.- the strength of habit prevails, even when it is not necessary to use the jet, as in this case. He goes out, followed by the rest of the team. Even Chrissie is preparing to imitate them.

A hand around her wrist stops her. -Hey, where are you going?- she smiles.

-Lise and Richard are waiting for me.- she observes him nodding. -I just wanna say hello to Reid, I'm so mad that he didn't tell me anything about what he went through, even if I understand it, in a way.- they hug. She places her head on his chest. Facilitated by her tallness and by not wearing high shoes. -Try not to get yourself killed, okay?- she whispers.

And Luke replies with the same sentence as always. -I'll do.- she comes off first.

-Luke, you have three minutes.- she winks at him, pointing to the watch on his wrist, before disappearing into an elevator. He sighs, shakes his head, still feeling her perfume... but it's the wrong one. As he walks with the intention of preparing himself, he is caught by a sort of vision, which however in his head he renames as a presentiment. He sees himself dead, a corpse on the asphalt, thrown away by a terrible accident, but he is much higher, he is pure spirit and is tormented by a single regret. Die without ever knowing. His feet quickly change direction, while the awareness of not having enough time grows. He reaches the security door and opens it wide. Penelope is there, curled up on herself in an almost fetal position, her face covered with her hands and her hair's a little messy. For the first time, he doesn't give a damn about how she is dressed and her accessories. He no longer needs that spiel to stay. He observes her body shaken by sobs, hearing her groans of pain.

He clears his throat. -Garcia. What... Why are you crying?- she lifts her head, not masking the tracks. Big tears run across her cheeks. He stretches out his hand with the intention of drying them, but remains so, without completing the gesture.

However, she doesn't mind. -I'm... I'm just afraid.- she squeezes her hands until she cut herself with her fingernails and make blood come out. He doesn't seem to notice this either. A red spot adds to the colors of her dress. -I wish I hadn't found that damned address.- she confess. She certainly never held back as much as he did, but this, of course, is her moment of total openness. -I'm afraid something bad might happen to you all.- she adds, while the lower lip begins to tremble. Luke takes another step in her direction.

-You know it can happen every time we get out of here.- he points out, but his tone is low, calm, not to blame or as if to tell her to open her eyes and notice where they are. He is definitely late. If they don't wait for him, it must have been the fault of fate.

Penelope echoes him. He can no longer think of her as Garcia. Not only. -I know.- she hugs herself, but it is his arms that should comfort her. -Fears are not rational.- he nods. She stands up, taking off her glasses and wiping her face with a tissue. -What are you doing here? Aren't you going to leave?- she asks. She is trying to get rid of him. A step. Another. Another one. One more.

-Yeah.- he's practically on her. -I just needed to do one thing first.- he sees with the eyes of his mind Chrissie and his abuela cheering. -You never know.- he slowly approaches his face, lowering himself. She is hardly breathing, probably considers it more likely he is about to slap her, rather than what is about to happen. She finds partial confirmation when she sees him raise his hands, which however rest on her face, still wet and red. He scrutinizes her reaction for a moment, then nods to himself, bends over what little separates their lips and kisses her. He doesn't give her many seconds to kiss him back. Maybe he still has time to reach out to others. -I will come back and we’ll talk about it.- it sounds like a promise. It will be better for you, thinks Penelope, wearing headphones and preparing to play her part in this mission.

TAGS: @martinab26 @thinitta @shyladystudentfan @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @symphonyashley @kofforever @myhollyhanna23 @tootsienoodles @centiaaa @penelopesluke @dumbdraws @onefail-at-atime @reidskitty13@adorarapril @princesstreaclefanfic @glocknade111-blog @magiunific @fallen-novak @dreatine @hopelessdayydreamer @racing-against-the-sunset @majo0803 @vickyd-2012 @writing-whats-that @wearejuststars@klngzeewp @heylittlehollywood @kirstenvangsness @blu3crush@futureperfectmedia-blog @jade-cheshire3303 @life-between-pages @tooshorttobeanadult @xxlonelyghostxx @honeydoodles @pennypeabody @alessiapolimeni @bbyxk @full-on-fangirl @catlynhoss05 @lushmp3 @glittergunshots @tinymiko @baby-i-am-fireproof @unpensieroabbandonato

#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #tara lewis #david rossi #spencer reid #o.c.#penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #a.u.#tiziano ferro #amici per errore

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cluttermind · 4 years

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Without A Parachute (7/15) - Silver, Gold, and Secrets

Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 31,139 total / 6,952 Ch 7

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

A/N: Sorry again for the inconsistent posting schedule! I'm trying so hard to stay on track. Here's a LONG chapter with a whole lot happening to make up for it :) Enjoy some fluff, plot, and smut!

Also the formatting is better on ao3 so I’d recommend reading there :)

I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow

Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows

One for sorrow

Two for joy

Three for girls and four for boys

Five for silver

Six for gold and

Seven for a secret never to be told

- Counting Crows, Murder of One

Cold, Emma rolled over to snuggle closer to Killian. Instead she rolled flat onto her stomach. She blindly reached out, slapping the empty mattress next to her trying to find him. Groaning when she concluded he wasn’t next to her, Emma rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, checking the clock next to her. 9:30 am . Sighing, she dragged herself out of bed and made her way downstairs. Halfway down the stairs she spotted Killian in the kitchen. His phone was in his hand. His ear buds were in. And he was dancing . Like an idiot. In boxers and a t-shirt. His hair still messy from bed. God, he was awful. But fuck he was sexy.

He clearly didn’t notice her because he didn’t stop, only slowed a bit to fill the coffee maker with water. So Emma snuck up behind him and joined his ridiculous dancing. Eventually he turned around, saw her, and broke out into a fit of laughter.

“What’re we dancing to?” Emma yelled so he could hear her over his music. It was so loud she could hear it faintly from where she was in front of him. In response, Killian connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker on the counter and blasted Your Such A Mystery by Bleachers.

To anyone on the outside of their bubble they looked ridiculous. To Emma, it looked like what love should be. Or, at least, what she had always imagined it to be. Jumping around the kitchen at 9:30 in the morning in their pajamas, everything felt comfortable and wonderful. Maybe it was the endorphins talking but she felt like she was on cloud nine. And when Killian pulled her close to him to kiss her passionately, she believed that this must be the high people tried to chase with drugs. Who needs drugs when they have a Killian?

When the song ended, Killian pulled back. “Coffee, love?”

“That depends. It’s not the same crap you have at the pub, is it?” Emma teased. Killian lowered the music so they didn’t have to scream to have a conversation when they were standing in each other's personal space.

He chuckled. “I promise it’s not. It’s local and it’s sweet. You’ll like it.” Killian poured them each a mug of coffee. He was right, she did like it. There was a hit of chocolate that did, in fact, make the bitter drink a little sweeter. She hummed softly, enjoying the comfort of the warm mug in her hand as the coffee started to bring her back to reality.

“What is it?”

“Ithaca House Blend from Ithaca Coffee Company. It’s fair trade and organic.” He explained, taking a sip from his mug.

“Why don’t you serve this at the Jolly?”

“Because it’s not cheap and I spend money on alcohol. You and maybe 2 other people have ever ordered coffee there.”

“Maybe that’s because they know you serve shit coffee.”

Killian chuckled. “Maybe.” Emma hopped up to sit on the island while Killian leaned back against the counter across from her. They drank their coffee for a moment in comfortable silence, listening to the music coming softly through the speaker on the counter. “How are you this morning?” He asked, tentatively. Concern blanketed his words, silently asking whether he hurt her, whether she regretted it, whether she enjoyed it. He was familiar with the buzz that an orgasm left him in and the way it sometimes, or more recently the way it often, faded the following morning. That morning, however, he woke up happier than he had ever been. Killian, who was much more of a night owl than an early bird, nearly sprung out of bed dancing while he replayed every glorious moment of the previous night a little too graphically according to a certain part of him that was more awake than the rest of him. That’s how he ended up dancing alone in his kitchen. Partially because he was happy, partially because he needed to work off the stress that started to settle in his stomach when he remembered the countless nights he regretted the morning after and wondered if that was how Emma would feel.

Emma knew. She knew exactly what he was asking when he spoke. “Cold. I did wake up alone while someone was having a dance party without me.”

Killian chuckled, set his mug down and moved to wrap his arms around her. Emma’s legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck. “Better?”

“Much,” she said, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

“I have to pick up a few things from my apartment today and I assume you need some things from yours. I thought we could get that out of the way this morning, binge some Netflix or break out the DVD collection,” Killian’s voice dropped, “maybe jump in the hottub later?”

Emma sighed, heat pooling in her belly. “That sounds wonderful.”

They finished their coffee and made their way upstairs to get dressed during which Killian spent more time staring at Emma than actually pulling his own clothing on and Emma spent more time staring at Killian than actually pulling on her clothes and if it wasn’t for that lingering, delicious, ache between her legs reminding her of the previous night’s activity there likely would’ve been a repeat.

“Later,” Emma purred as she walked past him and out of the bedroom carrying her bag with her. Like a puppy, he followed her, hanging on each syllable that fell from her mouth.

They hopped in Killian’s car and drove back to Collegetown. In the daylight, the view from their drive was wonderful. Half the way back Emma could see the lake. She let her mind drift as she stared off into the distance, Killian tuning the radio to the local college modern rock station - WICB 91.7 FM. Emma’s eyes drifted to sleep from the soft vibrations of the car. Unfortunately her nap, which was more like sleep part 2 considering she had only been up for about an hour, was quickly interrupted by Killian gently shaking her shoulder. He had parked right outside the Jolly Roger.

“Swan, wake up, love.” He placed a kiss to her temple as if he was bribing her to open her eyes.

“Five more minutes,” Emma grumbled.

“You can go right back to sleep when we get back to the house but right now I need you to pack.” Emma groaned, refusing to open her eyes. “Or else.” Killain smirked

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll withhold sex from you all week.” He toyed.

Emma opened her eyes for the sole purpose of glaring at him. If looks could kill, Killian surely would’ve been dead in that moment. Then she closed her eyes again. “Okay goodnight.”

Killian scoffed. “Fine. Then I won’t buy you breakfast.”

Emma’s ears perked up and she instantly opened her eyes. “CTB?”

“If I say yes will you please go pack?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

Emma jumped out of the car, slamming the door a little too hard in her excitement. Killian mentally noted that she was significantly more food motivated than sex motivated and went to his apartment to pack his own things.

In her bedroom Emma stared at the handful of clothes she owned. She grabbed a few pairs of jeans and leggings and a pair of sweatpants, her favorite Cornell sweatshirt and long sleeve (which together may as well have cost her an entire week's pay), a nicer sweater, and some long sleeves. Remembering that Killian mentioned a hot tub, she tossed in the simple black bikini that Elsa made her buy back in September when the weather was still nice enough to go gorge jumping. But when it came to lingerie, Emma was stuck.

Emma Swan: When you’re back we need to go shopping.

Elsa Agnarr: FINALLY!

Elsa Agnarr: where?

Emma Swan: That mall in Syracuse you always try to get me to take you to?

Elsa Agnarr: really?! i mean im not complaining ;) why the sudden desire to take a shopping trip?

Emma Swan: Oh nothing. I just need some new bras.

Elsa Agnarr: and you felt the need to text me a week in advance to plan a shopping trip for just some new bras…

Emma Swan: I slept with Killian.

Emma’s phone rang and Elsa started speaking the second she answered the FaceTime call. “You did what?”

“I told you.”

“Were you safe?!”

“Elsa!” They laughed. They were the cautious two of the group, nearly mothering over August and Robin whenever they could. Of course Emma was safe.

“Was it good?”

“Oh my god.” Emma blushed furiously.

“Oooooo I knew he’d be good in bed.”

“Elsa!”

“Oh come on! Even though we don’t play for the same team, anyone with eyes would bet that Killian Jones is good in bed.”

Emma sighed, an unfamiliar green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head in Emma’s mind. “Don’t remind me.”

“So are you guys together?”

“I don’t know.” Emma admitted. She wanted to be. To call Killian Jones hers? That’s a dream Emma hadn’t allowed herself to have. No matter what, Killian had been there for her. To lose that, to lose her friend if none of this worked out, might kill her. He deserved someone better, someone less damaged . And the familiar spiral began tightening in her mind.

“Don’t overthink this Em. You deserve to be happy and he clearly makes you happy. I see the way you smile every time his name pops up on your phone.”

“I just don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“I think you ruined what you had when you slept with him. There’s no going back from that. You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Elsa! Elsa!” Emma heard a familiar voice shouting on the other end of the line. Elsa giggled.

“Sorry I have to go. Anna’s been forcing me to help her make some pro/con lists for the college’s she’s been accepted to.”

“Well she can’t go to Harvard. That’s a given.”

“Can’t go to Penn either.”

“Guess it just has to be Cornell.”

“ Far above Cayuga’s waters - ” Elsa started singing loudly so Anna could hear the alma mater every Cornell student knew by heart by the end of their first semester.

“ With it’s waves of blue-” Emma joined in. “ Stands our noble Alma Mater, glorious to view. LIFT the chorus, speed it onward, loud her praises tell, hail to thee our Alma Mater - ”

In the background Anna groaned. “Not again.”

“ HAIL, ALL HAIL, CORNELL! ” They screamed, bursting out laughing.

“I’m going to Harvard if you don’t stop.” Anna threatened.

“No you’re not.” Elsa turned her attention back to Emma. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later.” They hung up. Emma’s lingerie problem, however, will have to wait another week. She shoved the nicest things she owned into the duffle bag she packed, stuffed her laptop and her journal into her backpack, and finally left her apartment to meet Killian at the car.

He was sitting against the edge of his open trunk, reading something on his phone when she reached him.

“Reading anything interesting?” She asked to get his attention.

“Nope. Just doing some online shopping, love.” Killian kissed her cheek as he took her bag from her and placed it in the trunk. He had a black backpack and his guitar secured in its case. “Breakfast?”

“Please.” Emma was starving and entirely unprepared for the way he took her hand in his after he closed the trunk of his car, nonchalantly, as if this was their normal, their comfortable, their them .

They walked to CollegeTown Bagels, their joined hands swinging gently between them. When they arrived, they got on line as Killian told her a story about one Summer he spent with his grandparents as a kid. His thumb rubbed softly over the back of her hand, engrossed in his own story. Emma, however, wasn't paying any attention.

At the front of the cafe, there was a brunette, a ghost from Emma’s past. Or, at least, she looked like a ghost from Emma’s past. Emma couldn’t quite make out the girl’s face. She was looking down at her phone, her hair blocking Emma’s view. Suddenly her past was flashing before her eyes, unfolding like a horror story where the victim runs into the house and the audience screams stop. But there’s no stopping the spiral Emma’s mind falls into.

A security guard was at the end of the aisle, clearly noticing the PopTart box Emma was shoving under her sweatshirt. The guard cleared her throat when Emma noticed her.

“Are you going to pay for that miss?”

Emma was panicking. She couldn’t pay for it. She didn’t have money. All she had were a few hand-me-down clothes in a backpack and a bruise on her cheek from her last foster home she was trying to escape from.

Thankfully, a brunette around her age came to stand beside her and held up a credit card. “Yes, ma’am. Our Dad’s in the car just outside.” The guard nodded and left them to be. The girl turned to Emma. “The key is swiping one of these.”

Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’m just like you, you know. Trying to get away. I’m Lilly.”

Emma’s grip on Killian’s hand tightened like a vice grip.

“Swan?” KIllian asked, concern blanketing his voice. “Are you alright, love?

But Emma didn’t hear a word he said.

Emma and Lilly shopped for a bit. They became fast friends. When they checked out and left, however, a car not too far away started honking and driving after them. Emma figured this was the man Lilly swiped the card from. So they ran.

They lost the car and Lilly led her to a beautiful lake house that was empty for the season. And they promised to be friends forever, no matter what. Emma told her everything about her life, about moving between foster homes, about the abusive man that ran the last group home she was in, about how alone she felt all the time.

And Lilly pretended to understand. Because, in fact, Lilly couldn’t truly understand what Emma was going through. Because when they were caught later that night, it was Lilly’s father who caught them. Because this was Lilly’s family’s summer home.

Killian’s hand was starting to hurt under Emma’s grasp. It was their turn to place their order and Killian stepped up to the register, taking Emma with him.

The brunette looked up when she stood to throw away her empty coffee cup. It had to be Lilly. But what was she doing in Ithaca? Emma nearly started hyperventilating, wanting to call out to her but being unable to find her voice.

“Swan, what do you want for breakfast?”

Emma watched the girl she assumed to be Lilly leave. “I’m actually not hungry anymore. I think I’ll just meet you outside,” She said, without turning to look at him. Emma let go of Killian’s hand and dashed out of the cafe.

There was already distance between them. Emma just stood there, shocked. She didn’t know what to say or whether to say anything or whether Lilly still hated her. And even though Emma was standing alone, now nowhere near Lilly, she was working herself up to a panic attack. Her entire body was shaking. Killian followed shortly after.

“Emma?” He quickly noticed her panicked state and pulled her into his arms, placing a comforting kiss to her forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

***

Back at the house, Killian made tea for Emma and opened a package of PopTarts to put on a plate. From the kitchen he felt the weight of Emma’s thoughts, but she hadn’t said a word to him since the cafe. Something happened there, but he couldn’t figure out what. Was it him? Was it another guy? Was she having second thoughts? Was she starting to regret what they did? Was she starting to regret what they were, what they had become, what was so strong between them?

She was curled up on the couch, staring at the TV which was turned to the local news channel. It was Ithaca. It was grey, cold, probably some form of precipitation was expected at some point in the day, some local business was probably doing something for charity, the university students were probably protesting or petitioning something, and there was probably news about music or theatrical performances. Every now and again something major happened at one of the colleges and that was actually newsworthy. All of this to say that if you need something mindless to watch, local news in central New York was the place to turn.

Killian brought the tea and plate over to Emma who graciously accepted the mug but ignored the plate. Killian sat next to her, keeping some distance between them in case he was the reason she was upset. “Talk to me, love,” he urged her, gently.

Emma took a sip of tea. “It’s nothing, Killian.”

“Swan, you’re clearly upset about something. You’re an open book to me.” He sighed. “Did I do something? Do you regret last night?”

Emma looked at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. “What?! No! Killian, no.” She set the mug down and laid down, resting her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, playing with his softly. Instantly she felt relaxed, her heart fluttering slightly, her entire body tingling in bliss from the feeling of Killian’s fingers running through her hair.

“You know you can tell me anything, love.”

Emma sighed. “I thought I saw an old friend. I guess she’s more like a former friend. I’m not really sure anymore, to be honest.” Killian stopped his motions and looked at her. “Don’t stop,” Emma nearly whimpered.

Killian chuckled and resumed playing with Emma’s hair. “What happened?”

“Lilly and I met when she saved my ass while I was trying to steal PopTarts from a convenience store.”

“Ah the shoplifting PopTarts story.”

Emma looked up at him. “You remember that?”

Killian blushed. “Aye.”

Emma could’ve kissed him senseless in that moment. Finally, for what felt like the first time in her life, someone genuinely listened to her. And this wasn’t the first time Emma had this realization about Killian. She noticed every time he heard her answers to how her day was. She noticed every time she ranted about school or told him what she learned. But something about this time meant a little more to her.

“Yeah. The shoplifting PopTarts story. Anyway, she made me feel like she was like me. Like she was also a foster kid, bouncing around from home to home. It was a particularly bad time. I was running away from a home that didn’t treat any of the kids right. There was always a reason for the guy running it to hit us, always something we did wrong, something we did to aggravate him. So I ran and I was hungry and I was about to get caught and Lilly stepped in with a credit card and said that our dad was waiting for us outside. She told me she swiped the card from some stranger, that she was also running from the system and brought me to this empty lake house which, by the way, was her family’s lake house because she wasn’t running from the system because she was never in the system and she tricked me into thinking she understood but she couldn’t understand. No one could understand what it’s like to constantly be running as a child, to not have a home, to sometimes have a roof over your head but never be at peace and never feel safe. No one could understand what it’s like to want to get the fuck out so fucking bad that you spend two and a half years living in a car you worked overtime to be able to buy just to have consistency in your fucking transcript so ivy leagues don’t immediately reject you. No one could understand unless they fucking experienced it.”

Emma was screaming by the time she finished. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bared part of her soul to a man she realized she didn’t want to live without, a man that made her feel loved and at peace and at home, a man who would stand so fiercely beside her through anything life threw at her.

And in that same moment of realization for Emma, Killian fell in love with her.

“Emma . . .” Killian whispered, silently making promises to himself that he dared not speak out loud for fear that she’d run from the sheer intensity of the way he felt for her. No longer would he ever allow her to be hit or hurt. No longer would he ever allow her to feel alone or hungry. No longer would he ever allow her to not have a home or someone she would call family or someone she could turn to when everything was crashing down around her or simply getting too much for one person to carry. No longer would he ever allow her to feel unloved.

He didn’t want her to ever have to run from something again. He wanted to be what she ran to.

“There’s more. I’ll tell you the rest another day.” Emma sat up so that she could curl up against Killian’s side as he engulfed her in his arms. He held her tightly against him and they sat silently for a while. Eventually, they both fell asleep.

***

They were sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table in the living room, Emma’s back against the couch as she lost yet another game of chess to Killian who broke out his grandfather’s marble chess set. He had even tried to let her win on multiple occasions but Emma was too distracted by his deep blue eyes to pay any mind to the game in front of her. She missed easy takes and fell easily into his traps. Fitting, really, considering how easily she fell for, fell into, him .

“Alright, alright, I surrender.” Emma tapped her foot against Killian’s thigh. “I believe that you promised me a dip in a hot tub?” She asked, smirking at him.

If it were possible to undress someone with your eyes, Killian would’ve been naked in an instant with the look Emma was giving him. He waggled his eyebrows at her, entirely up to play this game she started. “Did you bring your swimsuit, love?"

“Do I need one, Captain?” Emma teased.

“You little minx.” Killian growled, his cock already starting to harden simply at the words falling off her tongue, and the image they created in his mind. “You go change, or strip, either works wonders for me, love, and grab some towels from upstairs.”

Emma giggled and bounded up the stairs to change into her black bikini. She pulled her hair up into a bun on the top of her head, grabbed some towels, and rummaged through the dresser drawers to find a pair of Killian’s swim trunks for him.

She found him in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of red wine. Killian was nothing if not a romantic.

“I hope one of those is for me,” she toyed, wanting to get his attention and catch him off guard while she wore nothing but her bathing suit.

The second he saw her, Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” was about all he could manage.

Emma threw his swim trunks at him. “I brought you these.” He caught them, easily.

He handed her a glass and kissed her softly. “Outside on the left end of the deck. I’ll meet you there, my love.”

The cold air nipped at Emma’s skin as she quickly walked towards the hot water, careful not to spill her wine. It was a long day that tested all of her emotions. Quite frankly, she was exhausted and stressed. Killian tried all day to keep her mind busy, tried to help her relax. As graceful as we were for him, none of it worked. Her past with Lilly kept replaying over and over like a broken record or a film on loop. Sinking into the warm bubbly water, her back against a few of the jets, finally she felt herself relaxing. The jets felt so good against her back she was nearly moaning by the time Killian joined her. She actually didn’t even notice him slipping into the tub across from her until he chuckled.

“Enjoying yourself, love?”

“This might be better than sex.”

Killian threw his head back and laughed. He could have come up with a cheeky line, but he knew she needed this. He knew she needed to really relax, to turn her mind off for a second. He’d follow her lead on where this went.

“Come here, Swan.” He took a sip of his wine and set it down on the ledge behind him. Emma moved to sit between Killian’s legs. He placed a sensual kiss on her shoulder and his hands trailed up her arms to rub her shoulders, working at the knots that had formed there likely from stress.

Emma moaned softly. “That feels nice.”

“All I want is to make you feel good.” Killian whispered against her ear, nipping teasingly at her lobe.

“Mmm you’re succeeding.”

He trailed kisses slowly down her neck, stopping at her pulse point to suck gently at her skin. His fingertips ghosted down her sides, tracing the curves of her breasts and her waist. “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Swan.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine as he spoke in that timbre she learned was reserved for only the sultriest of remarks, the dirtiest of phrases, the sexiest of sayings.

“Well now you have me . . . And I’m all yours, Killian.” Emma’s hands rested on Killian’s thighs. As much as she wanted to turn to face him, to straddle his legs and grind into him, to tell him to take shed them of the few clothes creating a barrier between them, Emma was quite enjoying this teasing game.

“And I, yours, love.” Killian pulled her back against him so she could feel the effect her words had on him. “Just hearing you say that is enough to turn me on.”

Emma wiggled her ass back against him which elicited a hiss from Killian behind her. “I quite enjoy having this effect on you, Captain.”

“Oh do you now?”

“Aye,” Emma said, mocking his accent.

Killian chuckled. “You think you’re funny?”

“Aye,” she mocked again, a devilish grin plastered on her face.

In response, Killian nipped at her pulse point, dragging his teeth teasingly over her skin, sucking to leave his mark on her. Not expecting how incredible that would feel, Emma gasped. “Not so funny anymore, are you, my love?”

Taking a deep breath to attempt to calm her racing heart, Emma hummed softly. “It’s hard to think straight when you’re doing such salacious things to me.”

Killian trailed his fingertips underwater over her stomach, whispering in a sultry tone against her neck between wet kisses, “Close your eyes, Swan.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

Emma closed her eyes. “With all my heart.” She let her head fall back against Killian’s shoulder.

“Imagine I’m kissing down your body,” Killian whispered, trailing his hand between her breasts and down her stomach to the waistband of her bikini bottoms. Emma hummed in response. “Teasing just above where I know you want me.”

Dancing his fingers over her skin, he turned his attention to her breast. “You’re wearing far too much clothing, love.”

Emma reached behind her neck and untied the top while Killian untied the back, tossing the material to the ground beside the tub. “Better?” She teased.

“Much,” Killian smirked, cupping her breasts in his hands, massaging gently.

Emma moaned, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach. “Killian . . .”

“Does that feel good love?” He purred.

“Fuck, Killian. Yes,” Emma groaned, arching her back as if her body was begging for more of his touch, more of his voice, more of his everything.

He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Emma.”

Emma hummed softly. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what? Talking?” Killian teased.

“Don’t stop talking,” Emma affirmed, the simple way each word teasingly fell off his tongue sending chills down her spine.

“As you wish, my love.” One of his hands grazed over a sensitive spot on her side.

Emma broke out into a fit of giggles. “Killian! Stop!"

Killian chuckled, purposely tickling her. “Stop?”

“I’m ticklish!” Emma nearly bucked back against him, her laughter uncontrollable. Killian grins, the carefree nature of her genuine laugh warmed his heart. For once today, after a long, stressful day, it looked like Emma was relaxed. But he stopped, lifting both of his hands off of her body, complying with her request.

“Wait, no,” Emma whimpered.

“No?”

“Come back.” She reached back and grabbed one of his wrists, bringing his hand back to rest on her stomach.

“I’m here, Swan. Wherever you need me.” He lowered his lips back to her neck, over the mark he had left earlier. Once again, his hands were roaming her torso, dancing over her stomach, careful to avoid her ticklish sides, caressing her breasts beneath the water, teasing her nipples.

Emma groaned, his name slipping effortlessly from her lips as her eyes close and her head resettles against his shoulder. “More,” she whispers, as if saving that word only for him.

“How about,” Killians hands trailed down her body to her thighs, “here?”

Emma inhales sharply, his fingers dangerously close to where she so desperately needs him. “More,” she repeats. “Killian, please.”

She can feel him smile against her throat, grinning like a madman.

“Where?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know, as if he didn’t already know where she was aching for his touch, as if he wasn’t aching to give her everything she needed, everything she wanted.

Emma rested her hand over his, guiding him to rest above where she needed him over her bikini bottoms. He strummed his fingers over her clit. “Oh god.”

“Killian will do just fine, love,” he joked, chuckling as he continued his teasing.

If Emma could do anything other than moan she might’ve - would’ve - rolled her eyes at him. Instead, she played along, giving him exactly what he asked for. “Oh Killian.”

He hummed softly. “I love the way you moan my name, letting the world know who’s turning you on, who’s making you feel this good.”

Grinding her hips into his hand, Emma was reaching the point of begging. “Killian,” she pleaded, “more.”

Killian grinned, having found the perfect opportunity to mention one of the ridiculous pickup lines he had spent hours looking for on the internet after they had first met when she was studying for economics. “Are your legs available for some open market operations, Swan?”

Emma’s eyes shot open and she turned around to playfully hit his chest.

“What? Not up for a conversation about open markets, Swan? I thought you’d be an expert after all that studying you’ve been doing.” He smirked, clearly enjoying this game they’ve been playing.

Emma glared pointedly at him, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. “You almost ruined the mood.”

“Almost?” Killian raised an eyebrow at her.

Emma shifts to straddle his legs, now facing him, finally able to see the storm in his eyes. Killian dragged his nails down her bare back, scratching gently. Her hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and her lips captured his in a passionate kiss she had been longing for since this dance began. His tongue slipped between her lips, finding hers as he held her close to her. Instinctively, Killian groaned into her mouth as her hips rolled over his straining cock.

Emma grinned against his lips. “You like that, Captain?”

Killian hummed, his hands now resting on her hips, edging her down harder on him as she resisted. “More, Emma,” Killian pleaded.

“My, my, how the tables have turned.” Emma listed her hips off him entirely, eliciting a groan from the man beneath her.

“You’re killing me, love.” His hands ran over her ass, squeezing.

“Hmmmm maybe I’m feeling a sense of sympathy,” Emma teased, her hands toying with his hair, “for those swim trunks.” While her eyes portrayed the utmost innocence, her words insinuated that her intentions were anything but.

Killian smirked, waggling his eyebrows at her. “A growing sense?”

Emma giggled. “Well something’s growing.” She ran her hands down his chest until her fingers were brushing along his waistband. Killian leaned back, giving her the room she needed, groaning and laughing softly at the utter bliss rippling through his body at every brush of her fingertips.

Her hands grazed over his cock, clearly hard and ready for her. “Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?” She whispered salaciously against his lips.

“Swan, you read my mind.” She left him with a quick kiss, hopping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around her as she raced towards the back door to escape the cold, Ithaca night, with Killian following closely behind.

***

The past few days had been more than Emma ever could have dreamed of. Falling asleep wrapped in Killians arms holding her closely against her, waking up to freshly made cups of coffee, spending days playing games and reading and telling nonsensical stories, spending evening curled up on the couch watching whatever seemed interesting on Netflix, and spending nights making out on the couch like hormonal teenagers was simply perfect.

It was Wednesday. Spring break was halfway over and Emma dreaded having to go back to the reality of classes and studying and being apart from Killian. Her eyes fluttered open, sighing as Killian trailed butterfly kisses down her body. He had pushed the covers away, needing to see her face for cues. They hadn’t bothered getting dressed from the night before and had fallen asleep shortly after cleaning up from a delightful rendezvous.

She gripped the pillowcase with one hand while her other ran through his messy hair. A sleepy moan escaped her lips when he kissed her inner thigh. “Well this is a nice way to wake up,” Emma purred.

Killian grinned against her thigh, his stubble scratching gently against her only turned her on more. Unfortunately any endeavour he had planned for that morning was interrupted by Emma’s phone. He groaned, resting his cheek against her thigh, looking up at her with pleading, piercing blue eyes. “Please don’t answer that,” Killian begged. He’d been wanting to taste her all week, but they always seemed to get a little caught up in the moment.

Emma checked her phone, thinking it might be Belle asking her to come in a day or two to help out this week. “It’s August,” she said, confused. August never called her. His preferred method of annoying her was sending a million and a half text messages in a row until she answered. She gently swatted Killians face away from her, a move that was met with an even louder groan as he flopped onto his back. Emma answered the phone. “August?”

“Ems, I don’t fucking know what I’m going to fucking do,” August said, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked on the other end of the line.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Emma asked, concern so clearly blanketing each word that Killian was no longer pouting like an incessant child and instead tossing her his t-shirt from the floor before grabbing a clean pair of boxers from the dresser for himself.

“I can’t fucking believe this is happening. Everything is falling apart.” It sounded like August, someone who had been her rock through the stress of their first semester, was crying. Emma quickly pulled Killian’s shirt on.

“August you have to talk to me. What happened?”

“I didn’t get the fucking internship.”

“The one with the publishing house in New York? I thought the final interview went well! The HR rep basically told you that you got the job.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” August screamed. Emma winced. “Fuck, Ems I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Emma asked softly.

August sighed. “I have no idea. I got great feedback after every round and they basically handed me the job after the last round but I must’ve fucked up something because I got a rejection email this morning.” He choked on a sob. This was his dream internship. He had worked his entire life for the chance to be at this publishing house. He spent countless hours prepping and forcing Emma to ask him interview questions he had complied from random internet sources and previous interns he connected with on LinkedIn.

“August, I’m so sorry. You have that other interview right?”

“I turned it down. I turned it down after the empty promises HR made.”

Emma’s heart broke for her friend. “Fuck August. I’m so sorry.” Killian came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and flopped back into bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. Emma reached over to play with his hair with her free hand.

“I don’t know what to do.” August whispered.

“We’ll figure this out. There are still applications open and great publishing houses to start at. Check Nashville. If you’re feeling adventurous check London.” Emma paused. “We’ll figure this out, August.”

“I just wish I knew what I did wrong.”

“So send an email. You had a good relationship with that guy in HR, send him an email and ask for some feedback so that you can come back next year and do better.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” August sighed heavily. “Thanks Ems. I better go. Sorry for bothering you.”

“I’m always here for you, Gus.”

August snorted. “I hate you.”

“Aw, I love you too!”

Killian smiled next to her, partially because it felt damn good when she ran her hand through his hair like she was doing and partially because it warmed his heart to hear how much she cared about her friends. And he would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he was imagining what it would be like to be on the receiving end of her “I love you.”

Emma hung up the phone after saying goodbye and sighed.

Killian uncovered his eyes to look up at her. “Everything alright, Swan?”

“Yeah. Something happened with August’s internship and he’s back at square one.”

Killian rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Why do I sense there’s something else? You forget you’re an open book to me, love.”

“I just . . . I haven't even thought about what I was going to do this summer.”

Suddenly, Killian’s heart was in his throat, realizing that Emma might choose to spend the Summer in a glamorous city working for an incredible publishing house . . . away from him.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, tentatively but ready to fully support whatever dreams and goals she had. If only she knew how deeply he was in this thing that they started, how fiercely he’d stand beside her no matter what, how no matter where in the world she was he’d either wait for her or follow her. Killian, he was realizing this week, would follow her to the end of the world, or time, if that’s what it took to be with her.

Emma smiled down at him, shifting so she was no longer sitting up next to him but laying down facing him. “I want to write. I really want to write.”

Writing . Writing was something she could do anywhere. Writing was something she could do in Ithaca. Writing was something she didn’t have to leave him to accomplish. Killian grinned before showering her face in kisses.

Emma giggled, rolling onto her back so that Killian was taking his place atop her. “What's all this for?” She asked between fits of giggles, pretending like she didn’t know why Killian was happy - ecstatic really. Her whole life she wanted to be a writer, to tell stories like the ones that got her through the worst moments of her life, the ones that provided her an escape even when she was too tired to run, the ones that gave her hope and showed her love and captured her wildest imaginations. Writing suddenly had an added benefit. She could write wherever she wanted to write. She could write from Ithaca. She could stay near Killian. Emma didn’t need to give up her heart to follow her dreams.

“I just -” Killian paused, his heart racing as he smiled down at Emma beneath him.

“What, Killian?”

His heart skipped a beat when she said his name. Granted, there was nothing he adored more than the way Emma said his name. This time, however, she spoke his name as if she was claiming him as her own. “I just really didn’t want you to be away from me.”

“I think you’re stuck with me.” Emma pulled him close to her. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Emma, I am always yours.”

Neither of them could imagine, in that moment, a life without each other. And so they didn’t.

#without a parachute #cs ff #cs fanfic #smut #fluff #captain swan #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan

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imaginedcreaderinsert · 4 years

Note

Your writing it’s so good! The angst is super realistic and everything gives you the feels, I absolutely adore it. So I noticed you like Jason and Dick, maybe my request will interest you. I’d love to read about a reader that goes back in time to save Jason from the joker, making him develop a crush on her that eventually leads to them being together? Bonus points for poly relationship with Dick and Jason.

TWTHANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST! But I’m sad to inform you that I will not obtain those bonus points :( i’m planning on working on that poly soon, though, but it jut didn’t fit with this narrative. I tried to be merciful with Dick, though! Hope you enjoy and that it comes close to what you requested. It came out a bit short and I’m not very happy with it, but I felt like I had to write something because I really wanted to touch a bit on time travel and another alternative universe for Jason. He really did deserve best.

SUMMARY: You think it can’t, it won’t work, but if it can, if it will… Are you willing to sacrifice everything that you have, everything that you own for him? “In a heartbeat”, your mind unconsciously says. It’s so quick that it scares you.

WORD COUNT: 1512.

TW: Joker’s death, not explicit (almost implied); alcohol consumption in minors (not serious tho). I would say it’s pretty soft.

It’s always been you — Jason Todd x Reader

You think it can’t, it won’t work, but if it can, if it will… Are you willing to sacrifice everything that you have, everything that you own for him? “In a heartbeat”, your mind unconsciously says. It’s so quick that it scares you.

It’s 2025 and things are fucked up. You’ve been a scientist at heart for as long as you can remember, you’ve studied theories that people have given up, searching for impossible answers and solutions that only appear in comics nowadays. But you are motivated. You have been since Jason changed, since he became the Red Hood and things have gone wrong in the city. The crime rate is as it’s peak, and Bruce is tired. Robins come back home hurt, exhausted, and nothing seems to change. Dick is the one good thing in your life; your eternal shine of optimism and your current fiancé. Could you give him up, all the moments you’ve lived together? All of your first times?

“Yes”, you murmur into Todd’s hair after a particularly long night. Dawn? You can see the sun behind the curtains of his small room, but you don’t move. Not now that he has finally managed to sleep. He called you, as it’s been happening for a while now that his birthday is coming, with a trembling voice and disorientated. Sometimes he can’t even remember his name or recognize his own reflection in the mirror. You’ve wished for as long as you’ve known him to make him have less of a burden. You have longed for him having a night of total rest; no nightmares, no shouting, no choking you in the middle of the night because he thinks someone is attacking him, someone is going to take him and-and-

(Jason was fifteen when it happened. He has never left the chair where the Joker tortured. He was just a kid, full of illusion and love for Bruce, who did not protect him back, who did nothing in retaliation. He bitterly cries a lot of times when he confesses that, and you hold him dear like he is the only thing that matters, because he is)

So when the opportunity is offered, the diamond that shines on your finger seems less important, and giving up Dick, your compromise, the devasted world that’s incoming if things continue this way… You cry as you pull the lever. And it’s done.

* * *

You’re fifteen, just his age; and you know the day it is, the things you have to do to change things, fuck up probably the entire universe, but you are willing to do it. Not because you want him (you do), or because you hated your life back in the now forgotten Gotham (but you did) – but because you want him to be happy.

Whatever the cost.

Things change. Brutally, to say the least. Jason doesn’t die, and the Joker is killed; by accident, some would say as he broke his head open in a brutal fall. Bruce broke his own code and gave up his vigilante life. You never get to meet Damian, and you think you see Tim once in the street, but it’s-it’s nothing really. It doesn’t matter. You were prepared to give it all up when you changed things, and they have.

* * *

Jason loves you. You fall in love, almost accidentally. You were fifteen when you gave the tip to Batman, and Jason has managed to live a full life: he’s had the high school experience (too easy for him) and finally the university one. You had it both together, briefly coinciding with Dick when you were freshmen and he was a senior. But now things are different. Jason and thus you are 21, and Dick is 25. He is working for Bruce, and word says he is going to inherit it all in a not so distant future. It is not what he wants, not really, but he is proud. He is going to make Bruce proud.

(Sometimes you wonder if he knows. If he is the same Dick that you have left behind, that you will know nothing more about ever again. It tears your heart apart, and Jason sometimes sees you crying, but he doesn’t ask. Does he know it too? Can he imagine such a future without you?)

You don’t talk about it, but it’s there. It’s always been there since you both were seventeen and you kissed, shyly, for first time after trying out alcohol in a high school party. If you were going to go full dumb for once, you were going to do it properly. And you have the mind of someone who should be over these things, who has more experience and knowledge than all of these hormonal teenagers together, but you play along because in some way your mind has regressed as well. Accommodating is not easy, but you get to see friends you thought dead in the years to come, sparsely; they are happy, they are now married to other people, they are older and some are younger. Things have changed. And you have more time with your father, who abruptly left you and your mum alone in a bombing attack. You cry when you get home the first night after the time travel.

You stay at Jason’s house at least five times a week, if not more; the Wayne Manor is as big as always, and it seems strangely empty even to them, like something was not right. But Jason and you fill each room with your laughter, and you feel like crying when you see him as free as he is, a full teenager, a kid that has been granted the experience of having a fulfilling life. When you are eighteen, and about to depart to uni, deciding on where to go, fearing he will go you kiss him. You kiss him and he kisses you back in the sofa, alone; if Alfred stays, if he sees anything, he doesn’t comment on. Bruce is not there, and Dick-Dick sees it all, but he is happy if anything. You’ve been his favorite since you were sixteen, and-

“Jason”, you moaned into his mouth as he caressed your skin, your thighs, and went slowly up towards the interior of your skirt. You are young and in love – and definitively not shy, not once you have him, finally him and him alone. “Jaybird”.

Some things never changed. He did continue being Robin, but he is not in search of revenge, he doesn’t risk his life every time he is out there and he is definitively not reckless – he thinks about you, about what he has, about everything he could lose. And you love him, you love him so much you think your heart might burst out, because can someone so wonderful exist and be with you?

You read together in the evenings with your legs tangled under the duvet; sometimes he sleeps over you and others you drape your arm over him, smashing your head into his chest or your pillow. Thing is, he is yours and you are his. Undoubtedly so. You simply can’t imagine a life without him; his laughing, his silliness, the inherent youth that Jason exhumes from every pore of his body when he holds you close, moonlight over both, and murmurs “I love you”, with a tender and softness no one has ever whispered before. It’s impossible to imagine a tear in his face, his trembling body, strong and prepared for combat: a knight that he has been made, forced to transform into. And it’s not that his body is soft, but his muscles are not tense like before. Before, he felt like he had to become stronger, invincible, so as to protect himself; maybe even force himself to drink down the whisky even if he always knew his body wasn’t prepared.

But now… Now it’s not like that. Save the occasional beer, the nights where you both get tipsy and handsy in the dormitories, in your door before coming in and giving it to every little dark desire of yours.

He always sleeps eight hours straight, maybe even more if you let him; and he’s a cuddle monster, who would have thought! He… Has some strange nightmares, sometimes. But it happens fast, like it never happened once you kiss him soft and confident tangled in his arms. He safe and sound in your arms, and you have to murmur “Jay” higher each time fearing he will never let you go once he has you. And you are incredibly surprised when it doesn’t bother you; there are worse deaths.

Worse universes where you don’t even get to meet, where you will always and forever feel empty; universes where there’s Todd without your last name. So as he presses himself tighter to you, you kiss each of his knuckles better, like remembering every little scar, every little memory he has left of that life you’ve left behind. There’s nothing like it anymore where you are, and that is quite enough.

#jason todd #dc #red hood #jason todd x reader #reader insert #anon #request

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cloudphillips · 4 years

Text

Back To December

Summary: It was only a month before December 13

A month before December 13

The sensation of featherlight touches stirred Joohyun from her sleep. It traced patterns along the slender tilt of her nose down to the curve of her jaw before an voice so sweet yet distant whispered to her ear. "Wake up sleepyhead."

A soft smile broke on the corners of her lips before she lazily dragged her arms and clung onto the person beside her. "Five more minutes Wan." She groaned upon burying herself in the comforts of her lover's embrace, deeply smelling the scent of jasmine and relishing in the warmth Seungwan had to offer.

"You said that earlier." Seungwan fondly ran her fingers through the smooth tresses of Joohyun's raven hair before affectionately placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Come on you lazy butt. I already cooked breakfast." Her efforts remained futile since Joohyun wouldn't budge.

"Please. Just give me five more minutes with you." Was Joohyun's simple response as she tightened her hold around Seungwan, clearly indicating that she had no intentions of letting go. In the end, Seungwan finally relented because how could she ever say no to Joohyun.

Five minutes turned to ten until it lasted for an hour before Seungwan decided that Joohyun had enough rest. The sunlight was already streaming from the curtains and birds were already chirping merrily to start the wonderful day. Brushing away stray locks of raven hair, Seungwan nudged her girlfriend awake. "Wake up Hyun. You need to let me go."

Seungwan's odd choice of sentence brought a chill down her spine and promptly caused a small frown to paint her features. Joohyun didn't like hearing those words. She greatly detested it. Tightening her hold around her girlfriend's waiste, she whispered hollowly. "I won't."

The blonde merely shook her head. "Then you'll be stuck with me forever." If they'll just laze around all they, they won't get anything done. At this point, will they ever accomplish anything?

"Good. Because I'm binding myself to you."

"If you keep saying things like that, how can you expect me not to marry you?"

***

A week before December 13

"So when are we gonna get married?"

Joohyun abruptly asked Seungwan out of the blue when they were cuddling on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace while sipping hot chocolate on a cold night. Snow fell like droplets of rain and enveloped the earth in a winter wonderland. Christmas was already nearing and most people were out buying presents. Meanwhile, the couple decided to skip the holiday rush and just spend some time together.

Seungwan choked on her drink and felt the hot beverage scalding her tongue. Joohyun soothingly patted her back as she tried to recover from the shock. "What??" The blonde probably looked like a bewildered mess but she completely blames her girlfriend for making her like this.

"I said, when are we going to get married?" Joohyun repeated, like a mother speaking to a toddler, perfectly enunciating the words to ensure that Seungwan would hear them correctly.

"I don't know Hyun. Don't you think it's a little sudden for that?" Seungwan preoccupied herself with wiping away the stain on her sleeves. Her girlfriend remained silent for long while and when she looked up, saw Joohyun frowning in disdain.

"So you don't want to get married with me?" She was demanding an explanation and didn't look quite at all pleased. Joohyun probably took offense in that statement.

Seungwan was quick to backtrack and reassure her. "No no no. It's just that... I would still have to buy you one of those large diamond rings with 24 carats, take you out on an expensive dinner, sweep you off your feet and propose under the night sky." She rubbed her neck and acted all sheepish. "I actually planned everything back before to make sure the plan was perfect. All that's left is my properly timed execution."

The blonde was fully rambling now. Her hands flew around to make wild gestures and Joohyun found her heart melting at her girlfriend's confession. She was happy, completely over the moon, upon knowing that she wasn't the only feeling the same way. That she wasn't the only one thinking of spending their whole lives together.

"I don't want a fancy wedding." Joohyun gingerly took Seungwan's hand and laced their fingers together. "I just want you." She lifted her gaze and stared deeply into those eyes with deep pools of brown that she countlessly found herself drowning in.

"I want to grow old with you."

There was tension in the way their gazes met. The gap between them slowly diminished until they forgot which one began and the other ended. Seungwan conquered Joohyun in a feat of everlasting kiss as their bodies joined together in a heated urgency. Clothes were torn and wills clashed. Joohyun was unable to contain a moan when Seungwan bit a particularly sensitive spot. She wanted to fight the blonde for dominance but she was helpless, especially when her lover expertly used her fingers to draw out the monster inside of Joohyun. Halos of light clouded her vision and she gasped breathlessly as Seungwan brought her to another high. When she was about to reach the peak, she cried out. "Take me! Take all of me!" All the while staring into those brown orbs when she felt those lips marking her, claiming her, conquering her.

Seungwan grunted as she continued her ministrations and together they lapsed into surreal bliss. Their height of passion slowly dwindling to a mellow crescendo. The blonde collapsed on top of her and sweat clung onto their bodies after their passionate lovemaking but all Joohyun could ever think about was having Seungwan close. There was a lull of silence in the air as they stared into each other's eyes and Joohyun declared the words she had long kept hidden.

"Please don't ever leave me."

Seungwan didnt deign a reply as she affectionately placed a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine."

Her lips trailed along slender nose. "Til' time stands still."

"Until the winds don't blow."

Then she sealed her promise with a kiss.

***

A day before December 13

"Babe. I need to leave."

Seungwan was already donning her coat and tying shoes when she called out to Joohyun, who was lounging by the living room, watching the daily weather forecast. The news anchor predicted that a heavy storm will hit tomorrow and adviced everyone to stay indoors to avoid getting stranded.

"Where are you going?" Joohyun frowned when she saw the blonde heading for the doors.

"Just gonna buy some groceries. I won't be taking long." Her girlfriend shrugged before taking the keys from the bowl by the counter and checked her wallets for extra money.

For some reason, Joohyun felt uneasy as dread crept up her spine. She watched as her girlfriend kissed her farewell and headed towards the door. This odd sense of deja vú became something she couldn't ignore. Like, Seungwan leaving her alone somehow happened before and that thought alone scared her.

"Wan?" She called out just before the blonde could fully walk out the door.

"Yes?" Her girlfriend flashed her a bright smile. Joohyun couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last time she'd ever see Seungwan.

"Don't go where I can't follow."

With that, she watched Seungwan walk out the door and completely left her alone.

***

An hour before December 13

"Unnie, are you going to visit the memorial later?"

Seulgi spoke through the other end of the phone. She called a few moments before to check on Joohyun, knowing that today was a very special day, and see how her friend was doing.

It's been years... years since Seulgi talked to Joohyun. They've lost contact since she left and Joohyun haven't been the same ever since. The older girl had become more withdrawn and reclusive. She had never fully recovered from her loss. Joohyun practically had her entire soul ripped away after that unfortunate car accident. It was understandable that she was still grieving.

A flash of lightning briefly lighted the sky followed by the mighty roar of the thunder and that's when the rain started to pour.

"No Seul. I'll be staying home." Joohyun was pacing around the house, trying to calm the rising panick in her heart. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling and her entire body felt numb. Seungwan still hasn't returned and she was becoming terrified.

What if something happened to her along the way?

What if she couldn't come back home?

What if?

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line before Seulgi broke the silence. "Joohyun." The gravity of her tone caused the older girl to momentarily stop pacing. "You should go. It's been years since you last visited and I'm sure she misses you."

For some reason, anger bubbled inside Joohyun and she was unable to stop herself from lashing out. "Don't you dare speak about her!"

"You can't hide from reality forever." Seulgi's calm and understanding voice did nothing to alleviate her frustration. It only made it worse. "I think it's time you accept that she'll never come back."

"No one asked for your opinion Kang Seulgi." With gritted teeth, Joohyun ended the call and threw the phone away. The device hit the wall and broke into several pieces then rendered completely useless. Thunder roared above the heavens and Joohyun could only watch as the rain poured on and on. It seemed like it would never stop. She needed to find her girlfriend and bring her home.

Staring at the dark sky, she clenched her fists and decided to visit the only place where she could find Seungwan.

***

December 13

Joohyun finally arrived at her intended destination. Only brief flashes of lightning seared the sky and the rain had somehow stopped pouring. It seemed like a diving being was watching Joohyun and keeping her safe. Maybe it was her all along.

Releasing a shaky breath, she got out of the car and trudged through the snow as she made her way along the familiar path leading to the cemetery. She decided to visit today. Seulgi was right. It's been a long time coming and she couldn't hide from reality forever.

It's about time she found closure.

Stopping in front of a marbled tombstone laid on the ground, Joohyun settled down and carefully brushed away the snow that accumulated in order to discern the words imprinted on the slab.

Here lies Son Seungwan

Born: February 21, 1994

Died: December 13, 2020

No matter the distance between us, we’re always gonna be under the same sky.

"So you finally came after all this time."

Her gaze shifted to the person she'd been missing for years, casually leaning against the tombstone and flashing that megawatt smile, acting completely nonchalant as if she never left Joohyun devastated. Just the sight of her presence caused the older girl to break. It was painful seeing her like this and Joohyun was still hurting. This emptiness will probably never go away now that she took everything with her. "Seungwan."

"You promised you would never leave."

The smile on the blonde's lips was slowly replaced by a frown. "I know."

But Joohyun was too late to stop the tears from falling. "You promised that we'd get married and grow old together." Maybe she was holding on to this pain for too long. Maybe it was time she let it all out.

"You promised not to go to a place where I can't follow."

She missed Seungwan. She missed everything about her.

"Maybe if I hadn't argued with you on that day then you'd still be here beside me now."

Joohyun finally found the courage to stare into directly into her eyes. The very same eyes that haunted her every waking moment.

"When I stay up at night, I stare at the empty side of the bed and wonder about the things I would tell you if you were lying next to me."

Tears fell like droplets of rain.

"I can't do this without you."

A beat.

A moment of silence.

"You have to let me go Joohyun." Seungwan tried to reach out but her advances were denied.

"No!" Joohyun shook her head vehemently. She refused to forget Seungwan. How can she do that? How can she just forget the person she offered her heart to? How can she forget the very reason she was still breathing?

"You have to let me go my love. Stop dwelling in the past and just accept that I can never come back." Seungwan sat on the ground before Joohyun and gingerly wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks. "You still have your whole life ahead of you. Don't let the dead hold you back."

"Live for me Joohyun."

Seungwan laughed wholeheartedly and Joohyun had never before seen such a breathtaking sight. She tried to commit every bit of her features into memory so she could not forget... would never forget.

Her silky blonde hair that flowed against the breeze.

Her deep pools of brown eyes that held secrets of the universe.

Her soft lips that Joohyun will forever yearn to kiss.

"I love you." Joohyun whispered a promise.

Seungwan smiled contentedly and a glowing bright light enveloped her entire being. Joohyun watched as the love of her life was bathed in the sunlight and completely disappeared before her eyes, leaving her alone in that empty cemetery.

When blue returned home, the sky could only mourn in gray.

#wenrene #red velvet #irene #wendy #seulgi #angst #fluff

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ironfidus · 4 years

Text

Quid Pro Quo - Part I

Summary:

Five years ago, it was Tony Stark, not Peter Parker, who vanished in the Snap. Having lost his aunt, his mentor and his best friends, Peter is left to navigate the world and make a new life for himself.

Now, five years later, Peter has found his place in the world. But when Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff come knocking on his door, a surprise and a new plan in tow, Peter must confront the hope of reversing the tragedy that killed the people he loved and unraveled his old life.

OR: Peter survives the Snap, and now it's up to him to bring the Vanished back to life.

Main Pairings: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Shuri

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 1: A New Hope

Five years after the Snap...

:::

Earth-199999: October 8, 2023

Kingdom of Wakanda, East Africa

Peter stumbled out of his and Shuri’s shared bedroom, hair still messy from sleep. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes and yawned, making his way to the kitchen from memory.

He blinked when he found Ramonda already there, cracking eggs over the stove. “Morning, Umama,” he greeted.

“Peter, darling, you’re up!” Ramonda replied brightly without turning around, swiftly cracking open two more eggs before discarding the shells in a nearby bin. She finally whirled around to face him, grabbing a glass of juice off the counter and quickly pressing it into his hands. “Here, drink up.”

Peter gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Umama,” he said absentmindedly, bringing the glass to his lips and sipping. “Where’s Shuri?”

Ramonda rolled her eyes. “The lab, of course,” she answered without missing a beat. “Where else?”

Peter snorted. “Right, right, what was I thinking?” he joked back good-naturedly, laughing.

Ramonda grinned and took the glass out of his hands once he’d finished gulping down his juice. “Good boy,” she teased, and then made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go get that restless daughter of mine and tell her the food’s ready.”

“Sure thing, Umama,” he said, turning back the way he came from. He navigated through the seemingly endless halls of the Wakandan palace and eventually found himself in front of his and Shuri’s shared lab.

He pressed his palm onto the pad on the door and waited patiently for his primary AI, APRIL, to authorize him. A second later, the doors slid open without a sound and he strode inside.

“Shuri!” he called.

“In here!” Shuri’s muffled voice came from somewhere inside the lab.

Peter rolled his eyes and made his way through the organized chaos of the lab, ducking under certain hanging objects and side-stepping other objects. He finally found Shuri crouched before a suit he recognized as her latest design for her superhero persona—codename: Wildcat—and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Come on, Shuri,” he urged. “Your mom made breakfast.”

Shuri grunted, tugging uselessly at a shard that had lodged itself into one of the suit’s joints during her latest mission. “Who”—she panted, craning her neck upwards to squint at him—“needs breakfast?”

Peter sighed fondly. He gently pushed her to the side and knelt before the suit, wrapping one hand around the shard and effortlessly yanking it out in one swift pull. He dropped it onto the ground and turned to Shuri with one raised eyebrow. “You do,” he answered.

Shuri scowled at him. “I hate it when you remind me of how much stronger than me you are,” she complained.

He rose up to a stand and ushered her away from the suit. “Well,” he started, grinning at her out of the corner of his eye, “maybe if you ate your breakfast like a healthy teenager, you’d be strong enough to do that, too.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly unamused. “Shut up,” she grumbled, but notably did not protest as he tugged her closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re so annoying.”

Peter smiled smugly and hummed, not bothering to protest her description of him even as she betrayed her own statement by leaning her head against his chest.

“Annoying but right,” he countered.

Shuri snorted but let him have the last word, quietly enjoying his presence as they walked together towards the kitchen.

By the time they arrived, Ramonda had already set up the table, with eggs, bacon and French toast neatly spread out in the center. She looked up, took one look at the sight of her daughter tucked under Peter’s arm, and hid a pleased smile.

“I made your favorite,” she addressed her daughter, “so I better see you eat up.”

Shuri took a seat across her mother. “Bacon is everyone’s favorite, Umama,” she pointed out as Peter sat down beside her. “Peter can vouch for that.”

“You are not allowed to foist your portion on Peter,” Ramonda scolded. “I made enough for the both of you.” Shuri frowned, but Ramonda refused to be swayed, leveling a stern gaze at her daughter. “You need to take better care of yourself, Shuri.”

Shuri muttered incoherently under her breath.

Ramonda pointed a spoon at her. “Do I need to make Peter feed you?”

Peter burst out laughing while Shuri flushed and immediately helped herself to a generous helping of bacon and eggs, refusing to spare her mother another glance.

Ramonda winked at Peter, who merely shook his head in amusement and started on his own food.

:::

As soon as Shuri finished breakfast, she pushed the plate away and leapt out of her seat. “I’m going back to the lab!” she told them both, beginning to back out of the kitchen.

“No, you’re not.” Ramonda frowned severely. “You’re in that lab every waking hour of every day, Shuri. If I let you, I bet you’d even sleep in that lab.” She graciously ignored the sheepish look that immediately graced her daughter’s face, letting her know that Shuri had definitely slept some nights in the lab, her orders be damned. “You need to take a break.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” Ramonda cut her off firmly. “Spend the day outside for once. I’m sure Peter would love to take you to his gardens.”

Shuri stifled a sigh. “I need to get back to inventing, Umama,” she protested. “I still have at least a dozen weapons to upgrade—I can’t afford to take a break.”

“Of course you can.” Her mother refused to give in. “Nothing’s going to go wrong if you take a day for yourself. That’s all I’m asking for. One day,” Ramonda implored, her voice softening and growing tender with affection and benevolence. “You haven’t let yourself have a day off in years, Shuri.”

“Because Wakanda needs me to ensure its safety, not slack off, Umama!” Shuri snapped, fists clenched. “I need to improve our tech—to upgrade our defenses! If I don’t—”

“You are not solely responsible for the safety of our nation, sweetheart,” Ramonda interrupted gently, eyes strict but not unkind.

Shuri flinched. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she bit back. “I am the Queen of Wakanda. My people are depending on me—”

“But you’re not alone,” Ramonda reminded. “Let us help you shoulder the burden, Shuri. Stop putting everything on yourself. You have so many people willing to help you. At the very least, let your family in. I know for a fact that Peter would be more than glad to aid you if you weren’t so adamant in pushing him away all the time—”

Peter froze and slumped in his chair, resisting the urge to bury his face in his food. “Please don’t involve me in your argument,” he begged.

“Which is exactly why I need to be able to help all of you in turn,” Shuri pointed out, generously ignoring Peter, who sighed in relief.

“Our weapons and our security system are already the most advanced in the entire world, Shuri,” Ramonda said. “You know that.”

“On Earth, maybe, but not in the universe,” Shuri muttered angrily. “Thanos certainly proved that.”

Ramonda inhaled sharply at the mention of Thanos, finally taking a moment to drink in the sight of her daughter—to drink in the heavy bags under Shuri’s eyes, the sadness in the weary hunch of her shoulders, the exhaustion in every worry line on her forehead. “It’s been five years, Shuri,” she whispered, voice steeped in sadness. “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what that monster did. You can’t keep blaming yourself.”

Shuri’s jaw shifted. “Yes, I can,” she argued. “It’s my fault. I should have done better. I could have, if only I hadn’t convinced myself of my own superiority and foolishly believed that nothing could penetrate my tech.”

“That’s not your fault,” Ramonda asserted. “It’s not.”

Shuri stared, faltering in the face of her mother’s unyielding certainty, before she shook her head. “Yes, it is,” she said quietly, “because it should be someone else sitting on that throne and you know it.”

“I’m not going to watch you work yourself to your grave,” Ramonda hissed, her voice harsh in a way that brooked no room for argument. “You’re taking the day off, and that’s final. You may be the queen, but I am still your mother.”

Shuri fell silent, teeth gritted. Whenever her mother adopted that tone and expression, she knew that the battle had already been lost. She shook her head and groaned. “Fine,” she relented, resigned. “Come on, Peter, we’re leaving.”

Peter, blinking at the sound of his name, hastily stuffed the rest of his French toast in his mouth and jumped to his feet. He made quick work of the piece of bread, downed the rest of his water, and called out a hurried thank you! to Ramonda before following Shuri out of the room.

He snuck a worried glance at Shuri, wincing when he saw the tension in his girlfriend’s shoulders. Her expression was pinched with anger, and Peter expelled a silent sigh.

It was going to be a long day.

:::

Peter managed to stay silent, trying to give Shuri time to come to terms with her mother’s orders, until they exited the palace. “Let’s take one of the hoverboards,” he suggested, steering Shuri over towards the station at the side of the palace. He usually preferred to take his time and walk on foot to his large private garden near the outskirts of Wakanda, but he had a feeling that Shuri was in no mood to trek all the way there.

Shuri merely nodded in agreement, refusing to speak. Peter suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her stubbornness.

“Morning, Okoye,” Peter greeted the female warrior as they passed her on their way into the station.

“Peter,” she nodded back in acknowledgement. “Taking the queen out on a date while the sun’s still up?”

Peter snorted, lips tugging into an amused grin. “Not quite,” he shook his head. “The Queen Mother has instructed me to keep Shuri out of her lab until further notice. We’re headed for the Orchid Garden.”

“I see.” Okoye remained expressionless, voice as stoic as ever, but when Peter turned away he glimpsed the slightest gleam of mischief in the upwards quirk of her lips. “Don’t let her get away from you,” the general of the Dora Milaje called out to their retreating backs.

In response, Peter tossed her a quick thumbs-up over his shoulder and hooked an arm around Shuri’s.

Shuri scoffed. “Am I stuck with you now?” she asked.

Peter hummed. “Yep,” he agreed. “Forever.”

Shuri’s eye twitched. A part of her wanted to be annoyed at him, but a bigger part was flustered by his easy response. “Let’s just keep moving,” she finally found her voice, hiding a small smile behind a facade of impatience.

Peter hummed again, well aware of her true feelings. “Sure,” he said nonetheless, dragging her to the hoverboard section. There were no guards in sight inside the station—everything was monitored by APRIL, and they trusted the transparency of the Wakandan people anyway—so Peter and Shuri easily boarded one of the wider hoverboards together and inputted their intended destination.

The secondary entrance to the station slid open promptly and their hoverboard soared through without so much as a whirr. Peter squashed down a grin when Shuri stepped in closer and held tightly onto him even though they both knew that the pressurized forcefield around them and the sonic stabilizer in the hoverboard would keep her from falling off.

Within minutes, they arrived at the Orchid Garden, the hoverboard gently touching down and allowing them to step off. Peter locked down the hoverboard with a flick of his wrist and waved Shuri through to the garden entrance.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” he said teasingly, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Shuri played along, elegantly placing her palm in his.

Peter guided her through the garden, pausing at certain corners to point out specific species of flowers. Shuri had visited the garden before and didn’t necessarily require the tour, but he knew that she wasn’t ready to talk yet.

Fifteen minutes into the tour, Peter slowed down when they came across a bench sitting beneath a willow tree. “Let’s rest our feet,” he suggested.

Shuri nodded, letting him pull her down onto the bench even though it was an obvious ploy to get her to talk. Peter rested his arm on the wooden frame behind her, occasionally letting his hand drift towards Shuri and play with her hair.

He leaned back and waited patiently, having known Shuri long enough to understand that she wouldn’t tell him anything unless she was ready to. Prying wouldn’t help either of them.

A few minutes later, Shuri sighed heavily and rested her head on his shoulder, gaze flitting up to take in the sky. “She doesn’t get it,” she said at last, but this time her voice was more tired than frustrated. The anger had drained out of her sometime during the tour, leaving only weariness.

“What doesn’t she get?” Peter indulged her.

Shuri swallowed. “That I can’t help but blame myself.” Peter stiffened, hand stilling on her head, and Shuri carried on before she could lose her nerve, “I’ve always been praised for my intelligence, and maybe it makes me conceited, but as a result I’ve always personally believed in my intelligence, too. And then five years ago, everyone counted on me to detach Vision from the mind stone—and I – I couldn’t. I was too slow. For the first time in perhaps my entire life, my brain failed me.”

“You worked as quickly as you could have afforded to, Shuri,” he murmured. “And I know that a part of you knows that if you had tried to go any faster, you would have put Vision in danger.”

“I’m supposed to be a genius,” she whispered, blinking back tears, “and yet I couldn’t think up a way—any way at all—to speed up the process without risking Vision’s life. I let them all down, and it cost my brother his life. What kind of a genius does that make me?”

“A human one,” Peter said gently. “You were on a time limit, and you did the absolute best you could. You were thinking of Vision—you were worried about him, about hurting him. That doesn’t make it your fault, Shuri.”

“It does to me,” she said.

Peter paused, reconsidered his method of approach, and made up his mind. He patted Shuri on the shoulder, wordlessly asking her to sit up, and shuffled to the edge of the bench. Quietly, he gripped Shuri by the shoulders, pliant and trusting, and lowered her head to his lap.

Shuri exhaled a slow, steady breath and peered up into her boyfriend’s eyes. Peter gave her a reassuring smile and returned one hand to her hair.

“I blame myself, too.” His admission was quiet and full of shame, nearly impossible to hear amid the morning breeze.

“Peter...” Shuri reached up and cupped his cheek in one hand.

Peter turned his face and kissed her palm softly. “Five years ago, I held Thanos’s gauntlet in my hands. I had victory in my grasp. And it’s been five years, but I still keep thinking, I should have moved faster, tried harder, been better. At least once a day I hate myself for not doing enough.”

Shuri shook her head staunchly. “I know you, Peter. I know you must have done the best you could.”

Peter’s smile was sad. “Why can’t you be as kind to yourself? As forgiving to yourself?”

Shuri blinked. “I...” She didn’t know what to say.

“I just wish you’d let yourself believe that you did all you could, too.” He kissed her palm again. “Because you know what? As much as I think I could have done more that day, I also know that those thoughts aren’t helping anyone, especially not the people who vanished in the Snap.”

“Pete...” she trailed off helplessly.

“Your brother loved you, Shuri. He would have wanted you to forgive yourself.” He closed his eyes and saw Mr. Stark, resignation in his gaze as he crumbled to death. His last words had been: Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid. “If nothing else... we have to move forward for their sake.” He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

“Or else their deaths would have been for nothing?” Shuri guessed.

Peter smiled wryly. “Something like that,” he agreed.

“Right.” Shuri let her gaze drift back to the sky. “Thanks, Peter. I really... I needed to hear that. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured. “I think we’re all a little bit of a mess on the inside.”

“Sounds about right,” Shuri smiled, basking in the moment for a second longer before lifting herself up to her feet. “Should we head back? I bet Umama’s already waiting to see if you managed to calm me down.”

“Let’s,” he agreed, following suit and standing. “I can’t wait to prove her right.”

Shuri just shook her head in disbelief. “Sometimes I think she loves you more than she loves me, her own daughter.”

“That’s just part of my charm,” he teased with an exaggerated wink, cheesy enough that Shuri burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

“Oh my god,” she said through snickers, “please stop. You’re embarrassing.”

“Also part of my charm,” he chuckled along with her. He paused suddenly, an odd look crossing his face. “Actually, you know what? I think I’m going to stay for a little bit. You can go ahead of me.”

“We only took one hoverboard,” she reminded him.

“It’s fine,” he waved it off. “I’m used to the walk. Besides, you should talk to Umama privately before I get there.”

“You just want me to suck it up and apologize to her, don’t you?” Shuri accused, but she was smiling.

He smiled back. “Maybe,” he relented. Shuri exhaled forcefully, conflicted, and Peter added quietly, “You know she’s just looking out for you.”

Shuri was quiet.

Peter’s smile widened, already knowing what her answer would be. “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

“All right, all right, I’ll do it,” Shuri agreed begrudgingly, narrowing her eyes at him as she walked backwards in the direction of the entrance. “Happy now?”

“Perfectly!” he responded jovially, unfazed when she flipped him the middle finger. He watched contently as she turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and then waited a few more seconds to return to his original seat on the bench.

Without turning to look behind himself, he lowered his eyes and called out, “You can come out now, Captain.”

There was a hesitant pause before three familiar people surfaced from behind the shrubbery. Peter looked up to see Natasha Romanoff and a man he vaguely recognized as Scott Lang—one of the Vanished, he realized—accompanying Captain Rogers.

At the surprised looks on all three of their faces, Peter snorted. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you?” he asked, and then immediately cut himself off, “No, never mind, don’t answer that. The real question is, how is Scott Lang here, alive?”

Scott Lang exchanged a nervous glance with his companions before he stepped forward and—

And told Peter that he’d been stuck in the Quantum Realm.

All at once, Peter knew, even before they said it, why they’d come.

Time travel.

“No,” he refused before Steve could finish explaining. “No.”

Scott spluttered in disbelief. “Look, I know it sounds impossible, but—”

“It doesn’t just sound impossible,” Peter corrected. “It is impossible. Listen, I could go on and on and tell you exactly why we can’t safely and reliably execute a—what did you call it?”

“A... time heist?” Scott offered meekly.

Peter almost laughed. He would have, were it not for the sheer disappointment crushing him. He’d nearly let himself believe they had a chance when he’d seen Scott, rumored to have disappeared in the Snap, but time travel wasn’t the chance he’d been looking for.

“Right,” he said doubtfully. “A time heist. Well, like I said, I could spend all day explaining the science—or rather, the lack of science—behind it for you, but I won’t. All I’ll tell you is this: if we do this, if we try to use quantum fluctuations to travel to the past, we won’t make it back home.”

“I did,” Scott pointed out.

“You accidentally survived,” Peter rebuffed immediately. “It’s a one-in-a-billion chance.”

“We have to at least try,” Steve pleaded. “The stones are in the past. We could go back, we could get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha continued where he left off. “We can bring everybody back.”

Peter hesitated for a second—a second too long.

“I know you’ve got a lot on the line,” Scott jumped in at the sight of Peter’s hesitation. “A girlfriend, a family. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did.”

Peter’s eyes cut to Scott in a flash. “Don’t,” he interjected sharply. “You have no idea what I’ve lost. I lost everything five years ago. I lost my aunt—my last living relative—my best friends, my mentor. I was left with nothing—no one. I had to rebuild my life completely.”

“If you lost all those people, then why aren’t you willing to help us?” Scott demanded. “Don’t you want them back?”

Peter laughed dryly, derisive and cutting. “Of course I do!” he snapped. “But time travel isn’t the way to get them back. It’s – it’s a pipe dream! There’s no guarantee that we won’t mess things up worse than he did!”

Scott swallowed.

Natasha stepped forward and insisted, “But there’s no guarantee that we will, either.” Her eyes were haunted, and Peter knew she was thinking of Clint—always. As she was now, Natasha was a far cry from the infallible Black Widow of five years ago. “Please, Peter. We have to make a stand.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nat, but we already did.” He paused, locked eyes with her so there was no mistaking his meaning, and finished, “And we lost.”

Scott recoiled as if he’d been physically struck. Steve frowned and looked away, no doubt revisiting his memory of the battle against Thanos.

Natasha refused to give up. She had always been relentless. “Things are different now,” she said quietly. “We have new information.”

“I just don’t see how—”

“Do you know why we came to you, Peter?” Natasha asked him suddenly. He broke off, words dying in his throat as he scrutinized her, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s because traces of you are all over the compound. It’s because I’ve heard too many tales of your intellect from Rhodey. It’s because Pepper resigned and named you CEO of her late fiancé’s legacy when you were only nineteen.”

She paused, letting her words sink in for a moment before striking where it hurt: “It’s because they believe in you. Tony believed in you.”

Peter didn’t dare to breathe, but he didn’t dare to say yes, either.

Natasha shook her head. There was no disappointment—only sadness—in her voice when she said, “I came to you because I believed, too.” Somehow the absence of disappointment only made him feel worse.

Natasha breathed in, out. “But if you won’t help us, Peter, we’ll find another way. We won’t stop until we do. Whether that means recruiting Bruce, or some other genius, we’ll do whatever it takes to bring them back—with or without your help.”

His voice caught in his throat, Peter couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch as they walked away, back to the battered quinjet they’d arrived in.

:::

“So, what did the good captain want?”

Peter froze, eyes flying to meet Shuri’s. She was sitting cross-legged on their bed, halfheartedly flicking through an old Avengers report as she kept one curious eye on him. “You knew he was there?”

She paused, taking a moment to minimize the holographic report so she could focus her undivided attention on him. “Of course I did,” she narrowed her eyes at him, severely unimpressed. “I may not have your sixth sense, but I’m not a fool. Now, what did he want?”

Peter stared at her in awe for a second longer before shaking his head. “I should have known I can’t keep anything from you.”

“Damn straight.”

Peter nodded, hesitating for a moment. As much as he wanted to dismiss Scott Lang’s ‘time heist’ scheme out of hand, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. It was the hope, he realized—it was the hope he’d seen in Steve Rogers’ eyes and in Natasha Romanoff’s eyes, two Avengers who hadn’t stopped fighting but who had stopped hoping, that kept him from shutting the door on their idea.

(It had been a long time since hope seemed real.)

But he didn’t want to get Shuri’s hopes up until he was sure.

(“I can’t help but blame myself.”)

It would destroy her, to find a shred of hope and have it ripped away from her. He couldn’t risk that.

“It was nothing important,” he replied at last, thoughts faraway. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shuri eyed him skeptically. “Right,” she said doubtfully. “I know you’re lying, but I’m going to let it go for now. You’re lucky I love you.”

His eyes twinkled. “I must have been a saint in a previous life,” he said teasingly. She didn’t bother to respond to that, merely rolling her eyes at him, and his gaze softened. “I know I am,” he added, more earnestly, his cheeky smile turning honest and grateful. “I love you, too.”

:::

In the end, he thought of the family he’d lost. He thought of Aunt May, who’d nearly burned down their kitchen on his birthday trying to bake him a cake, who’d regularly made him watch senseless rom-coms on their beaten couch, who hadn’t always understood his life or his hobbies but who’d tried, who’d worked day and night to provide for him. Aunt May, who he would stop the whole world for.

He thought of Ned, his best friend who’d stuck by his side through thick and thin, who hadn’t hesitated to support him upon discovering that he moonlighted as a vigilante, who’d always been his greatest fan. He thought of MJ, who’d been quiet but understanding, who’d been afraid to trust yet still willing to give him a chance and offer him her friendship, who’d defended him to Flash and even to Peter himself.

He thought of Mr. Stark, his childhood hero. Uncle Ben always used to say don’t meet your heroes, but he’d met Mr. Stark and he hadn’t been disappointed. Time and time again, Mr. Stark did the opposite of disappoint him; with every thoughtful check-in, with every ruffle of his hair, with every hug disguised by a playful “we’re not there yet,” and with every movie marathon and lab session and sleepover, Mr. Stark made him proud that he’d chosen Tony Stark—not Iron Man, but Tony Stark—to be his hero.

Mr. Stark was always saving him. Maybe it was his turn to save Mr. Stark.

He thought of Shuri, too, who’d met a broken shell of a hero and found it in herself to love him. Shuri, who even now was choosing to trust and have faith in him. Shuri, who made him feel powerful, fearless, free.

Shuri, who blamed herself.

“I let them all down, and it cost my brother his life.”

Shuri had looked towards him for an answer, broken and vulnerable as she was, and he’d told her to move forward. But what if they didn’t need to?

What if he could make things right? Erase the past, absolve his mistakes, and fix their future?

What was he willing to sacrifice to make that future a reality?

(Everything.)

:::

Peter waited until he was certain Shuri was asleep before he carefully slipped out of bed. He relied chiefly on his ability to latch onto the ceiling to make his way to the lab noiselessly.

As soon as APRIL let him in, he made his way over to a relatively empty worktable. He took quick stock of the items on the table and shrugged, sweeping all of the parts off to the side.

“APRIL?” he called out. “Pull up a hologram for me, would you? Start a new file. Let’s title it...”—he hesitated, only for a second—“Title it: Hope.”

APRIL obeyed without delay, a holographic screen immediately appearing in front of him. “What are you planning, Peter?” she asked conversationally, her soothing voice making Peter smile.

“I’m trying to build something,” he answered distractedly, mind running over all of the things Scott Lang had divulged about the Quantum Realm. “I don’t know if it’ll pan out yet, but we’ll see. First I need to draw up some blueprints.”

“You sound worried,” she observed.

Peter laughed, short and dry and full of nerves. “You’re right. I’m a little worried. Actually, that’s not true—I’m a lot worried,” he confessed. “I’m not sure how this will all work out. Even if I succeed, I might lose in the long run. There are at least a dozen risks in this play, but...”

“But?” APRIL prompted gently.

Peter smiled. “Some things are worth the risk, APRIL.”

The lab descended into silence except for an inconsistent buzzing in the background which he knew stemmed from APRIL’s lack of understanding. Peter wasn’t surprised or concerned. He knew that, as advanced as APRIL was, she was still some ways away from being capable of true empathy.

October 9, 2023

“Peter?” A yelp echoed in the lab, quickly followed by the sound of a heavy object crashing into the ground. “Peter! Are you in here?”

Peter groaned and lifted his head slowly, cracking one eye open. “In the back,” he grumbled in a faint and weary voice, but the approaching footsteps told him Shuri had heard him.

“Jesus, Peter,” Shuri sighed when she spotted him, half-slumped over the worktable. “You slept in the lab? I thought I was the one with the bad work habits. When did you become me, huh?”

Peter slammed his eye shut again and dropped his head back onto the table. “Give me a moment,” he mumbled tiredly.

Shuri exhaled heavily through her nose and wheeled over a chair, plopping down near Peter. She reached over and squeezed his shoulders lightly in a halfhearted massage.

Her nose wrinkled immediately. “God, you’re tense. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

He sighed and pushed himself upright. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He tried to always be honest with her, except for when it would do more harm than good. “More than, maybe.”

“More than?” Shuri repeated, surprised. “I think I’m going to need you to elaborate, Pete, because this doesn’t really look like you’re ‘more than okay’.”

Peter laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, I know what it looks like. But I’m actually feeling... kind of optimistic, I think. Hold on, let me just show you,” he said. Shuri raised an eyebrow, but dutifully stayed quiet while Peter waved vaguely in the air. “APRIL? Bring up Hope for me, please.”

“‘Hope’?” Shuri echoed. “Peter, what...?”

She trailed off, stunned into silence, when the blueprints for the Time Travel GPS popped up.

Peter swallowed. There was a lot more work to be done—the GPS still had a few kinks he needed to work out, but... Peter eyed the bold 78.2% successful glaring back at him from the corner of the file.

It was a start, at least.

“Peter, what is this?” Shuri breathed, eyes darting frantically between the blueprints and Peter. Her mind was working a mile a minute, the gears in her brain shifting, running—

“I think you already know what it is,” Peter replied. She glared at him, and he sighed and humored her, “You were right, yesterday. I was lying about Steve. He... he came here to propose a solution.”

“Time travel,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yes, time travel. I didn’t want to tell you yesterday because I didn’t think it was feasible at first and I didn’t want to get your hopes up over nothing—I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve thought of the possibility, after all. But we always came to the conclusion that time travel is just not realistic.”

“Are you saying we were wrong?” Shuri’s eyebrows furrowed.

Peter turned back to the file. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he admitted. “It still seems a little bit like a fantasy, but—Steve wasn’t the only one who came yesterday. He brought Scott Lang with him.”

“Scott Lang? Sounds familiar,” she muttered. “Where have I heard his name before?”

“He was in FRIDAY’s reports five years ago,” Peter answered. “As one of the Vanished.”

Shuri stiffened. “How?” she demanded.

“Apparently, he never Vanished at all. He’s been stuck in the Quantum Realm this entire time. What was five years for us...”

“...was much less for him,” Shuri finished. Her hands were shaking with both fear and exhilaration. “You really think—?”

“It’s a long shot,” Peter interrupted, voice cautioning. “The device still has a ways to go before it’s functional, and even after it’s been perfected—we have no idea how this will all play out.”

“Long shot or not,” Shuri murmured, “it’s the best chance we’ve had in a long time.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. He descended into silence for a while, watching as Shuri processed the situation. He smiled slightly at the mixture of awe and tentative hope that washed over her.

“Hey,” he drew her out of her thoughts, resting a hand on her arm. She turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

His smile widened. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to help me invent time travel and save the universe?”

She paused, leaned back in her chair and eyed the blueprints for a lingering moment. When she looked back at him, she was smiling, too.

“Hell, yes.”

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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