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voidselfshipp · 2 years

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Summer Love, Summer Tunes

Cw: n/a. Ask to tag!.

Only mutuals allowed to rb. Sorry for the long post. Im on Mobile but ill try adding a Reading more once im waking up from my nap.

Summary: Dylan falls in love with a regular camp counselor at Hacketts quarry. Soon finding out that shes more special than once originally thought.

-> nice comments are appreciated.

Taglist: @tex-treasures @malewifehenrycooldown @mercuryships @80sboyfriends

Summer. What a wonderfull season, sunshine, warmth, all in all just fun.

This summer at Hackett's Quarry wasnt going to be any different.

The first time Dylan met Nova he felt he was going to trip over his own jaw, abigail had to literally close his mouth.

--Alright everyone!-- Said Chris Hackett, owner of Hacketts Quarry-- This is Nova! Shes been a regular camp counselor for some years now! And she Will be joining you this year as well

--Hi!, im Nova! Nice to meet you-- Said a woman, Brown hair in a bun, green eyes that, now lit up by the sun, seemed like precious gemstones. She was wearing some high waisted shorts and a yellow tubetop.

--Nice to meet you too!-- Said kaytlin returning her smile.

--Well campers! Lets get this started!-- chris announced with a grin.

The first time dylan had a chance to talk to Nova was during one of the activities both of their Groups did togheter. As the campers started to look for sticks to make small birdhouses out of, dylan mustered all the courage he could and sat besides Nova, who was drawing away, imitating the lake before them.

--Hey-- He greeted her-- Nova, right?

The woman Turned to him, when her gaze meets his own he freezes for a moment-- Yep, im Nova, youre Dylan right? The guy from the announcements?

The Man nodded-- Ye-yeah thats me, glad to see my reputation proceeds me

She laughed, making his heart skip a beat-- apparently yeah, nice to meet the camp's radio host celebrity

--Radio host celebrity?-- Dylan asked with a brow raised.

--Thats how the kids at my cabin call you-- Nova explained.

--Well, if im such a celebrity in your cabin, mind if ask you to come with me to the radio shack tomorrow? I bet the kids would love some of that fun energy of yours, you Will have to wake up earlier though...

She just giggled, being taken off guard by the request-- Hah, sure. I dont see why not

The Next day at early morning, she went to the radio shack with Dylan to broadcast the announcements for the day.

--Okay-- Said the man-- We are on air in three ...two...one... now!

--Good morning campers!-- Nova said energetically yet softly-- this is Nova from cabin 9!, im here with Mr. Radio Host Celebrity aka Dylan, who was so kind to invite me here to say todays announcements! Starting off with the news that today all cabins Will hunt for frogs since yesterday night we had rain!-- And so she said the rest of the news for that day. It only took ten minutes or so-- And to close! Enjoy some tunes Dylan and me curated for today! Take care and remember! What doesnt kill you only makes you stronger!

Then the radio cut-- and we're good-- Dylan said-- nice job!, hey I know you didnt eat breakfast so I was wondering if you wanted to Grab a bite to eat?

--Heh, sure, why not..!-- Nova agreed,both going to the main cabin to get their delicious breakfast.

It didnt take long for them to hit it off, so much so that the kids of their respective Groups started singing "Dylan and Nova on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G". It became a usual thing and though it didnt bother either of them, there was some truth to it...

Nova had her own room in the main cabin where the dinning room was, perfect for some privacy.

Her room had a loft that hosted her bed, under it was a desk, a bunch of plants and a little house for her pet mouse, Micelium.

She ruminiged through her clothes, finding the fancy avocado green dress with decorations of waves, pine trees and leaves, usually she would wear this to some fancy event or traditional druid festivities.

A druid...yeah thats what she was, a druid from the Mare clan, one of the oldest clans of druids, she smiled trailing over the embroidered decorations. A part of her wondered how the kids would react if they knew she wasnt...human.

How would Dylan react? Would he be scared? Concerned?...

She sighed shaking her head and grabbing the fawn mask the elders crafted for her, a parting gift for when she left the village to pursue her dreams.

She slipped on the dress and mask, admiring the golden details, the sun casted in gold on the masks forehead to the rings that decorated the horns.

To finish she slipped on the dark green riding hood-- Mice?-- Nova called out to her pet-- c'mon now its patroll time!

The small mouse peeked from his house made of wood, using a smaller riding hood of the same color as his owners, and a wooden mask of a fawn as well, though it had a waning crescent moon casted in silver.

The rodent zipped through the air in the shape of a flash of light, appearing on the womans shoulder.

--good to go?-- Micelium nodded-- good. Lets go

She slipped out of her room by the Window behind her bed, transforming into a beautiful barn owl, flying around the main cabin surveilling. Though...she couldnt help but perch on the Window that showed Dylan's Room.

She smiled, taking a bit of time to appreciate how peacefull his crush looked while sleeping.

Thoug her happiness was short lived as her mouse pet tugged at her feathers signaling her to get a move on.

--Yeah yeah I know..-- She muttered taking off to scout the rest of the area.

The breeze felt nice against her feathers, the way she hovered over the thick forest was gracefull and somewhat ethereal. Then again. She wasnt human...

No werewolves or dangers were seen that night so she was quick to return to her room.

She de-transformed and changed into some comfy clothes, going up the stairs to her loft to cuddle up in her bed.

Her fingers traced over a beautiful dark turquoise book, engraved with waves and plants on the covers and spine.

"Clan Mare og dens medlemmer" read the cover. It meant "Mare clan and its members" in norwegian.

Nova endulged herself in Reading the old weathered book, her digits ghosting over the family tree of her clans integrants.

There she saw the family of her friends, smiling as she observed the pictures of her Friends, wondering where could they be.

She made a pause as she reached her family tree, however. Her mother and father.

River, her mother, what a kind and caring woman, affective and funny, Her father, Oliver, was a hardworking Man, almost the same as River in personality, he loved to joke around and take care of his family.

Then she started to wonder if dylan would fit into the tree, his name meant son of the sea, he could very well be part of the Mare clan since they were stationed in the shore of Argentina.

Closing the book she left it besides her, hoping her nostalgia would wash away as she closed her eyes and cuddled further under the blankets.

The Next day arrived sooner than she expected. And soon enough she was instructing the kids on their Next activity, silently hoping she would get to see dylan soon.

Though, sadly she didnt see him until sundown, when the campers went to eat dinner.

--Heyy,theres my favorite forager-- Dylan joked sitting infront of Nova-- I took a sip of that lemonade you made today with the kids! Didnt know that we could use some of the flowers that Grow here! Where did you learn all of this?

--Hah, well my family knows. Kinda passed down through generations yknow?-- Nova answered with a smile.

-- Thats very useful, specially in camp-- the Man admitted-- hey, I was wondering if we could hang out? Maybe in your room since you dont have a roommate, its uh...no pressure tho..

--Sure, why not, everything okay?-- She asked looking at him, slightly concerned

Dylan stuttered a little, looking away-- I mean yeah...just uh...gotta tell you somethin'...

After dinner, both went to Novas bedroom, That was softly illuminated by fairy lights and some oil lamps.

--Mr. H lets you use actual oil lamps? Arent they a Fire hazard? -- Dylan inquired looking around.

--I mean yeah...but Chris trusts me enough to not set the place on Fire-- She joked-- wanna go up to the loft? Its comfier there

--U-uh yeah..I might need somewhere comfy considering what I wanna tell you-- The Man answered.

Once they sat on Novas bed, dylan took some time to start talking, then he cleared his throat after some minutes of painstaking silence.

--So...ive uhm...had feelings...for you...since you arrived-- He started-- Youre just...heh..youre just so pretty...and Smart...and insightfull, I feel like youre out of my League here but...I want to be with you...

Nova only smiled taking her crush's hand-- Thats a relief...I had feelings for you too

Dylan started smiling like a fool in love, cause he kind of was, and gave her a big hug, giggling a little as she hugged back, joining in with happy squeals.

From then on, both were inseparable, all summer long they were always togheter. Two peas in a pot.

Nova soon started to wonder when should she tell him about her druidic origin, scared he might see it as weird or disgusting....

Though, after the events of their final light at Hacketts Quarry, she soon realized that there were weirder and scarier things.

As they drove back to civilization,both sat at the back of the van, completly alone, just cuddling togheter in a bundle of blankets.

--So...now that we wont be comin back at the camp...what Will we do?-- Dylan asked, looking down at Nova, who was resting against his chest.

--...well I was hoping I could inscribe on other camps, or nature related things...you could come with while you study quantum physics..-- The woman proposed.

--Hmm...I would like that-- He agreed-- I really liked being camp counselor though..

--Agreed...

Soon they reached a motel where they would stay the night, they bunked up togheter and cuddled against a Window looking at the city.

--Yknow...I dont want to push it-- Dylan started-- you can tell me whenever you feel like it..but we need to talk about you growing plants out of thin air and being respected by literal werewolves...

Nova sighed-- Well...I was scared to tell you but after everything thats happened...I think theres worst things..., I am...a druid...I can grow plants, shapeshift into animals, speak to them..., can you pass me that book there?-- she pointed at the old dark turquoise book in her bag.

Dylan stretched over and grabbed it, handing it to her.

She opened it and showed her a map of each druid clan.

--The other druid clans here are stationed in Sanfran, Washington and New York, theres some in Florida too...my clan, the Mare clan are here...at the coast of Argentina..--She gestured to the the coast of Buenos Aires, a province from Argentina.

--Okay, thats super cool though...--dylan admitted-- what else can you tell me?

--Well.., mice was a gift from the elders of my clan, as well as my mask...-- She commented-- and heres my family tree-- she quickly flipped to the pages that had the family trees-- thats my mom, River and thats my dad, Oliver

--Hmm, thats interesting-- the Man commented-- hah that kid is you?

--Yep. Thats little old me

Dylan kissed the top of Novas head-- Dylan means son of the sea...would I fit in your clan?

--Absolutely...I thought about it yknow?...-- She stretched over to her backpack to Grab a pen, taking her lovers arm and draw some patterns on his forearm.

--What are you scribbling on there? -- he teased.

--When couples get togheter they usually paint markings like these on their skin to show that they are taken, usually combining things of their partner and them...so I thought I could put some branches, flowers...paint supplies and music for you, maybe even some equations for you ...

The Mans cheeks flush red as he looks away smiling-- Heh...Thank you baby...

He kissed her softly once she was done, holding her tight against his chest. The Next day they all went back on the road.

--What are those scribbles on your forearm? -- Abigail asked with a brow raised.

Dylan only smiled as he made himself comfortable on the back of the Van-- im taken -- he answered.

One day later they all returned to their homes, dylan was quick to visit Nova whenever he could.

Today was the day that he would be added to the family tree. He was anxious to say the least.

--So this thing updates instantly? You just have to add me?

Nova nodded, finishign writing down his name on the book-- Ive decided to add your name in a sunflower...its my favorite flower...and they mean happiness..cause youre my happiness...

The Man chuckled with a soft smile, kissing his lovers cheek-- I love you...

-- I love you too-- she answered-- wanna go cuddle?

He nodded, soon finding himself snuggling closer to his girlfriend. Every minute he spend with her was invaluable. Even the bad times they spent togheter...he wouldnt trade them for the world.

#ask to tag #gif tw eye contact #gif cw eye contact #🏖🌱summer music and sunny days|dylan🌱🏖#🌱🦌genderfluid druid (the//quarry//selfinsert)🦌🌱

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skullzy20 · 4 years

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LOVE GHOST , BLESS HIM 🥺

Yes

#my art #digital art #my oc #ghost #alone time with his plants :)#but you guys have been so so SO wonderful that I have to give you a wholesome ghost moment before I sleep #but yeah sleeping after this #my back fucking hurts like hell from drawing all day but ill continue these tomorrow with new drawings for responses this time sjfjsj #answered #thats an attempt at a lavender plant btw-#i think it looks decent #in this house and every house we love ghost

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

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Bus Rides and Sweet Times

Pairing: Sam Alexander x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

Anon asked: Can you do a Sam Alexander x Reader, but you're Peter Parker's sister??

A/N: Totally staying with the tradition of badmouthing Peter at the end of my oneshots and I’m proud of it. Sorry it’s so late btw, I was on a hiatus when you had requested it

On your first day of Advanced Biology you had been sweating buckets. You were attending a biology class ahead of your grade through the Accolades programme and were considering faking temporary illness to skip the day.

It was nerve wracking to have to go into a class where everybody was older than you and could bully you. Last thing you wanted was people to shove you in lockers like your older brother, Peter.

Well that was before he became friends with the school’s toughest football player but still. You didn’t really want to go through the embarrassment of being shoved in a locker for 5 years before finally making an unlikely friendship and then have a last good year of high school.

But when you stepped through the door, you were immediately relieved to see a familiar face.

Sam Alexander wasn’t a friend of yours, he was one to your brother and they weren’t even that close, but even then, seeing recognition on his face made you oddly relieved.

“Sit wherever, Miss Parker.” Said the teacher before returning to the board.

For a second you wondered about sitting next to Sam but then realized it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. So, you just moved to the back of the class and tried to blend in with the walls.

It was no secret that you were insecure about being the youngest person in the class. You never answered, never asked questions and always tried not to participate. That’s why the teacher was always surprised whenever you got the highest grades.

She always made sure to praise you in front of the entire class which made you embarrassed but still proud.

And that’s when she got the idea of you tutoring one of her students after school. And you being the innocent girl who just didn’t know how to say no to a teacher, agreed.

That’s when you started to spend more time with none other than Sam Alexander.

You should be annoyed but really you were relieved that it wasn’t any stranger.

Yet another time that Sam saved your sanity by just having a recognizable face.

****

“Hey do you mind keeping this whole tutoring thing a secret?”

“Why?”

A part in you was half expecting him to say something like he didn’t want people to know he was hanging out with a geeky younger girl even though you knew he wasn’t the type to be so rude, regardless of what Peter said about him.

“Well, your brother and my friends are really smart. If they found out I was getting tutored by a girl who was a grade below me...”

He scratched his cheek nervously and you melted. He was just as insecure and unsure as you were and while your intellect sometimes made you feel out of place, he felt the same way about his.

So, you nodded and set a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod.

“I promise I won’t say anything.”

“Your brother won’t be curious?”

“I’ll think of something.”

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have too long to come up with a suitable excuse.

You quickly got to work and explained the concepts and making sure he understood everything you were telling him, even drawing diagrams and things like that because you figured he was a visual learner more than textual.

After nearly an hour spent in the library together, you noticed your brother come in with Harry and MJ, probably wanting to get some lab manuals for chemistry. Once he saw you with his sort of friend, he immediately made his way over to the pair of you.

“What’s going on?”

“Tutoring session.”

Sam immediately shot you a betrayed look but you didn’t even blink, turning back to your notes.

Just as you knew he would, your brother laughed and pointed at a slightly embarrassed Sam which made you irritated on the inside but you covered it with a plain expression.

“You’re getting tutored by my little sister?”

“Actually, he’s the one tutoring me.”

The two boys turned to you with shocked faces and you folded your arms over each other, raising a brow at Peter.

“What?”

“Yeah, I keep missing class because I’m the lab assistant and I end up running late so Sam here promised to keep me in the loop.”

It wasn’t a lie, you were the lab assistant during Chemistry and as a result always had to clean up after your classmates after the period was over, but Peter didn’t need to know that you still managed to reach class on time because the teacher would spend the first 5 minutes reviewing the previous lesson.

Just as you knew he would, Peter bought the excuse, returning to his friends and telling you that he’d pick you up from your part-time job today, trying to be a good brother. But you knew it was because he found your co-worker cute.

“Thanks for that.” Sam spoke gently and you waved him off, leaning towards him again and pointing to the diagram of an operator.

“No problem, now back to Lac Operon.”

****

The next few weeks are spent the same way. Sam slowly brought his grades up in class tests and progress quizzes but the teacher still wanted you to continue with the tutoring sessions as your midterms were coming up.

That’s how you end up meeting and spending hours of your time with Sam, but it never really goes beyond tutoring and you never see each other outside of the library.

That is until one day you’re going straight home instead of going to your job like you usually do. You end up taking the same bus as Sam and sit beside him because it was the only seat open that wasn’t beside some older guy or a child.

Sitting next to you, he plans to do the same but when he glances at you, you’re slowly drifting off to sleep, letting your head lol to the side in an uncomfortable position.

So, he gently rests your head on his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when you cuddled closer to him. He watched you on the ride home, just wondering when was the last time you got some rest.

You were beautiful, yes, but he wondered about the dark circles underneath your eyes and the tired frown on your face as you leaned against him, silently realizing how haggard you looked for such a young girl.

You were trying to take all advanced classes but wasn’t naturally intelligent like your older brother so you ended up working till all hours trying to keep your grades up. He always knew that you worked hard but it was obvious that it was taking a toll on you.

So why hadn’t you ever said anything?

He wanted to tell you that you were perfect just the way you were and that you should take it easy but he knew you liked working hard and he found that really admirable.

The rest of the bus ride was just spent with him making sure you weren’t stirring or getting uncomfortable. Silently thinking you were beautiful. At the time it felt like you were the only 2 on the planet.

But what he didn’t know was that everybody on the bus were fangirling about how cute the two of you looked cuddled up on the bus seat. An older man was musing something about young love but Sam just thought he was remembering the good old days.

When the bus pulls up to your street, Sam gently wakes you up and tells you that your home. He even gets off at your stop to walk your drowsy self to the door where he meets Aunt May for the first time.

You were so tired you barely remembered Sam’s arm wrapped around you as he pulled you to the door. You thought your eyes were open but they were definitely closed and so he rang the doorbell for you because you were not awake enough to fish for your keys in your bag.

****

Ever since that day, Sam began to pay more attention to you. He always looked out for you in a silent way, never trying to bring to your attention that he was thinking of you.

“Hey check it out! The vending machine gave me two strawberry milks! Do you want one?”

“I got this pack of nuts but it has peanuts in it and I’m allergic so you can have it.”

“I’ll do a practice test and you can check it after I’m done. In the mean time you can take a nap.”

He took the bus home with you every day since then, saying that he came to your work when you were getting off for a smoothie even though there were a hundred places in New York that didn’t need him to come so far out

But you never said that to him because you liked going home with him, sometimes falling asleep together and sometimes listening to music, sharing earphones or even just quietly talking.

In the beginning he was afraid that you’d sleep and end up missing your bus or that you’d end up with a crick in your neck because of the position you fell asleep in but he liked taking the bus home with you, playing with your fingers gently while you napped peacefully beside him.

Once after Sam dropped you off at your house, you said your goodbyes to him and went inside, telling him you’d see him tomorrow. He politely declined Aunt May’s invites for dinner, saying that he had to get home because he had chores to do (training).

Around 10 minutes later, you left home again, going to pick up some rolls for dinner when you notice someone walking ahead of you but it’s only when the person walks underneath the lamppost do you recognize him.

“Sam?” You call out, wondering where he’s heading late in the night when his house was in the opposite direction.

“Oh shit.”

Sam freezes in his steps, silently contemplating whether he should just run for it or actually turn around to face you. You call his name again and wonder if you actually got it wrong and he was just some random kid in your neighbourhood.

But then he turns around and it’s him, blushing bright red that you could see it even in the dark and his heart began beating quickly, seeing you make your way over to him.

“What are you doing here? I thought your house was down the block?”

He tried to think of something but his mouth got really dry before he figured he should just give up.

“Well, about that, it.... isn’t.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and trying to avoid making direct eye contact with you.

“What?”

“I live close to the school actually.”

“But you’ve been taking the bus home with me every day for like 2 weeks now.”

“Yeah, it’s just because I like taking the bus....and sitting next to you. Taking the bus was my excuse to spend more time with you.”

You could’ve sworn you swooned.

It was the first time you noticed just how crazy for you Sam was and it was exhilarating. To see this older boy standing in front of you and being vulnerable enough to be sweet and thoughtful.

It was kind of that little girl fantasy that you dreamt about back when you thought Cinderella and Rapunzel had been real. So, you can’t stop yourself from smiling when you notice how awkward Sam is beginning to get underneath your stare.

Sure, he wasn’t exactly prince charming but to be honest, to you, he was much better.

Prince Charming forgot what Cinderella looked like.

Like what the heck?

“You could’ve just asked me out on a date.”

“Well I wasn’t sure that you’d say yes.”

“Ask me now then.”

****

Dating Sam was everything you’d expect it to be. He was sweet and thoughtful, always taking you out and loving to spend time with you. Your tradition of him picking you up after work and taking the bus home turned into you greeting him after getting off with a kiss and then inviting him inside for dinner.

Even though you knew he didn’t live close here, he still wanted to drop you home. He said he was being considerate and loved spending time with you, which was true, but it was also because he was afraid you’d fall asleep on some other boy’s shoulder and fall in love with him.

Which was ridiculously specific but you still indulged him.

Peter didn’t find out initially because he always managed to miss Sam right when he got home because he was out crime fighting.

And you didn’t feel the need to bring it to his attention.

You knew he would find out one day though and the opportunity presented itself when he brought his friends home to live in the house because a fire had destroyed their dorms.

And with him came your boyfriend, outright grinning at the sight of you and you had to hide your laughter because you knew Sam was excited about having alone time with you at home without seeming suspicious.

But something was telling you with so many people in the house, you wouldn’t be getting any solitude for a long while.

May being kind of strict between the two of you, saying that you can’t close the doors was not surprising even though you knew she loved Sam. To Peter however, it was kind of startling.

The two of you manage to spend time without drawing suspicion. Going on grocery store runs quickly became your favourite kind of date because it was just the two of you roaming around the store with Sam pushing you in the shopping cart.

Peter one day sat the two of you down with a seriousness that made you want to laugh in his face because you could see how awkward it was, demanding to know exactly what was going on between the two of you.

What he wasn’t expecting was you to admit that you had been dating for nearly 4 months now.

Apparently neither were his teammates.

The rest of the night was like an interrogation while the two of you just curled up on the couch and ignored the rest of them until Aunt May came home and told them to stop bothering you.

At which point they all just shut up and decided to watch a movie.

Your boyfriend held you close to him underneath the blankets, holding your hand in his, clutched to his heart and you used your free hand to feed the two of you pizza without even looking away from the screen.

Half-way through the movie, just as you were beginning to drift off, Peter scared the shit out of you by jumping up and shouting.

“Oh my god! I left the two of you at home alone so many times because I didn’t think you liked each other!”

Your face burned and you just hid underneath the blankets, trying to avoid the teasing faces of the others and try not to combust.

“Oh, just can it Parker!”

“Excuse me?”

“I meant the other Parker and you know it!”

#Ultimate Spider-Man #ultimate spiderman #ultimate spider man #ultimate spiderman x reader #ultimate spider man x reader #sam alexander #sam alexander headcanons #sam alexander x reader #nova #nova x reader #nova headcanon #marvel #marvel x reader #USM #usm x reader #USM x you

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years

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Bio Dad Bruce Day 16- Father-Daughter Dance (Gala Part 2)

As Marinette smiled at her friend’s antics, the girls had been standing on the edge of what would eventually become a dance floor. On the other side of the crowd, her father was mingling with Business partners that Tim hadn’t made it to. Dick had started to mingle with the socialites and Damien was scowling and standing close to the eldest. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette could see Jason standing in a corner watching the room for trouble. Nearby, Cass was smiling and watching the crowds while Steph chatted with her.

When Bruce moved, Marinette’s eyes tracked where he was going, until she realized that her father was going to greet the Agrestes. She knew that as soon as the duo had been greeted, they would separate and start to mingle. While almost at ease with any other guest at her father’s gala, Marinette was cautious about Adrien. He would react, she knew, but she wasn’t sure if it would be positive or negative. With the blond, it could go either way. As the girls watched the exchange apprehensively, a family came into view. The trio were dressed in matching greys and seemed to draw attention away from themselves. When the boy scanned the room, he locked eyes with Chloe and the heiress’ eyes widened before she moved to march over to him. As she made her way over, she pulled her two friends behind her, insisting that they keep pace. The blonde’s red gown swayed as she moved. Her eyes lasered onto the teen’s figure. “Felix! I was wondering when I would see you. Why haven’t you come to see me at the hotel?” the taller teen turned towards the trio with wide grey eyes.

“Chloe?” his parents turned to him, drawn to the conversation.

“Marinette, Alix, meet Felix Cupla. His family is close with my dad, and he is attending a private school in Paris.” Felix nodded to both of them and held out his hand to shake. As the four started to relax into conversation, Marinette scanned the older teen. He wore a well fitted suit, dress shoes, and shining silver cufflinks. His pale blue tie played with his ash blond hair. As he spoke, she could tell that he was observing her as well. When she went to focus back in on the conversation, the sound of a microphone coming to life caught the attention of the guests at the gala. Marinette turned to see her father standing on the raised platform that the musicians had been stationed on. Once he had everyone’s attention, Bruce Wayne started in on his welcome and thank you speech. As he spoke, Marinette noticed her brothers congregating together off to the side with Steph. The girl jumped slightly as her sister placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured for her to join the others. While the slipped off, Marinette sent her friends a small wave.

When her father came to join the quickly growing group off in the corner, the others quickly started talking all at once. Bruce held up his hand for silence. Once they had tapered off, he spoke to his children. “you know the drill. Pick someone to dance with without causing too much trouble. We want this to go smoothly. “while to others all nodded and started to disperse, Bruce held both Marinette and Damien back. “Marinette will dance with me, and Damien?” the boy turned towards their father, “please be nice to Miss Kyle. She has graciously agreed to dance with you for the family dance, but you have to treat her with at least a modicum of respect.” The boy scowled but nodded and stormed off to find his father’s girlfriend who he had taken to insulting. After watching Damien storm off, Bruce turned to Marinette. “Shall we?”

their own partners out. On the other side of the space, Marinette saw one of Tim’s friends walk Cass onto the floor. Even Steph had managed to snag one of her friends and guide them onto the floor. (Marinette would be willing to bet almost anything that there was a dare involved. If she had voiced her opinion, she would have been met with laughter and guilty glances. The only way Roy Harper would ever make it onto the dance floor was by dare.) When the conductor gave Bruce a small nod, he turned to Marinette and quirked an eyebrow at her. After the teen had nodded in agreement that she was ready, he sent a nod to the conductor and the father-daughter pair started to move. Bruce easily moved her though the easy steps of the dance. When they got closer to people, they could hear the whispers. Bruce Wayne had introduce Cass the same way, so it wasn’t a surprise, but the guests had thought the teen was too comfortable at the Gala to be new to the whole scene.

In the Crewe Group Chat (that night)

Chlo has added Felix C.

Felix C. has changed his name to Felix

Chlo: omg

Chlo: MARINETTE

Alix: Mari, you killed it!

Cho: Mari, you are duty bound to go to galas in Paris now.

Alix: MARI YOUR DANCING????

Adrien: I feel like a fool? WHY DIDN’T I PUT IT TOGETHER THAT YOU WERE BASICIALLY SAYING!

Nino: dude, we legit told you. You just continue to be denser than a brick.

Mari: lolololololololol

Mari: also, welcome Felix!

Adrien: oh yeah, Chloe, DID YOU HAVER TO ADD MY COUSIN?

Mari: wait…you two are cousins?

Chlo: see, you would know this, if you would have gone to a gala in Paris with me, M.

Kim: how did it go?

Nino: yeah M, did everything go well?

Alix: I know you were worried about dancing with your dad, but you looked fantastic. Did you enjoy it?

Mari: I did! It wasn’t nearly as stuffy as Jason made it out to be either…

Chlo: Marinette! I’ve told you! Your brother just doesn’t like cleaning up. Everyone knows that.

Mari: I mean… your right?

Mari: Oh! You should have seen Tim’s face when he saw the texts that Lila sent to the class GC

Nino: what did he say?

Mari: if this keeps up, she can expect a lawsuit.

Chlo: HA!

Class Group Chat

Alya: Um

Alya: guys? Did any of you watch the red carpet?

Alya: or see the dancing?

Lila: what happened?

Alya: I’m not talking about you, Lila. I mean literally everyone but Chloe, Adrien, Alix, and Mari

Marinette: *Marinette

Alya: um, did I lose nickname privileges?

Chlo: bitch. You never had them?

Nino: I didn’t really pay much attention outside of Mari’s and Alix’s stories. Everyone knows that they have the best content.

Chlo: I still think that the dance that Tim and Mari had was the best!

Marinette: let’s just be happy my brother thought ahead and taught me to dance. Otherwise, he would have ended up making me look ridiculous.

Adrien: I’m still shocked Felix actually danced with you.

Chlo: true. He is a bit of a grumpy cat…

sorry this is crazy late! yall know ive been a lil busy... expect multipul posts a day starting tomorrow until i catch back up. ill cover what happens after the gala soon...

OMG theres a tag list.... @trippingovermyfeet @smolplantmum

#b!dbwm2020 #b!dbwm #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #maribat #ml x dc #marinette dupen chang #My writing #please dont get mad at this...#i know its not my best...

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moon-goddess-posts · 3 years

Text

Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction and I decided to write kaeya first because I just love him sm 😭😭😭😭 anyway hope you guys enjoy! Zhongli is up next. I'm also new to Tumblr so idk how this works LMFAO

Kaeya x Gn reader

Fluff, kaeya is weird but its ok cause he warms up to you, didn't proof read this cause it was 1am

You were walking around the streets of mondstadt, you always loved the night and decided to come out for some fresh air. Lost in thought, you were reflecting on your first moments here and how the handsome calvary captain gave you a tour of the city. You were an adventurer from Fontaine seeking to do research on all the 7 regions. Mondstadt was the first region on your list. You've heard most of it from stories on barbatos and how he saved mondstadt, but you'd love to meet the people and all the certain flowers that were around. You finally arrived at the front gate and the guards gave you a warm welcome. The city air was fresh and everything had a carefree warm feel to it. "This truly is the city of freedom" you thought to yourself and smiled. Having everything written down on your notebook, you decided to try out the foods that were common here. "What can I get for you today?" The women spoke as you came up to the counter. You took out your notebook and chose a dish. "I'll take one chicken mushroom skewer please, ah would I also ask for your name if you don't mind?" You gave a friendly smile. "My name is Sara, worker at Good Hunter! Your food will be right up. I see you arent around here." "Nice to meet you Sara, im actually traveling the 7 regions for my art pieces and mondstadt just happened to be my first one. I would love to know some tourist attractions around here, would you happen to know a guide?" It was nice to see a conversation going well especially since you were never really the best at conversations. But you wanted to hurry up because your social battery was draining fast. "Id love to be your guide" and unfamiliar voice came to the right and you shot your head to that direction. His appearance was definitely different from the rest of the citizens but looked really attractive either way. He was leaning against the booth almost giving off an intimidating nature underneath the layers of charming. "Really? That would be great, thank you so much! And uhm your name is...?" Depsite the oddness you got from him, you did your best to continue the conversation as normally as possible. "Kaeya, Knights of Favionus, happy to be your guide dear" his sudden pet name made you flitch but you pushed it off "So where are we going first dear calvary captain" you gave him a teasing remark as you smirked. He chuckled "well obviously I wouldn't be a good tour guide if I didn't show you the Barbatos statute first." "Ah of course haha" you gave him a nervous chuckle. "Is there any other reason you decided to come here other than to just "explore"" You thought he ease dropped on your conversation, and even so he still didn't find you that trust worthy. "Well I'm a pretty well known artist where I'm from, but besides just coming here to make art I also decided to write a few poems for each region. If you'd want I can show you my works" you smiled happily and his cold attitude started to fade just a bit. "You can show me once we get to the next place, feel free to draw me then too ♡" it wasn't the best first impression but at least he didn't feel as hostile anymore. You and Kaeya finally made it to the statue and it was more beautiful in person than your thoughts could ever imagine. Ideas started to flow through your brain on how to paint it. "Wow its so...." you were at a lost for words. "Breathtaking isn't it?" Kaeya finished your sentence and you flahsed him a small smile and nod. "Yeah it is, ill be sure to mark it down as the first place to paint. Maybe if you'd like, you can give it to the Acting Grandmaster as a token of my thanks for having me here" "Such a kind hearted soul arent you? I'll be sure to inform her." Kaeya patted your head and walked off, assuming he was leading you to the second destination, you started to follow him. "You should stop by the tavern Cats Tail sometime tonight, I can tell you more about this place and if you'd like, more about me," You saw this as an opportunity for more research on the area, and maybe get to know Kaeya a bit more, he truly was an interesting person, so you

accepted. "I'll be sure to make it around 18:00 or 19:00!" The next destination included a beautiful tree, lake, and another small statue of barbatos. You thought it was truly magnificent, especially how the sun hit the leaves all so perfectly giving it a warm glow. "This place is Windrise. Its often associated with love and is one of the most well know spot for dates." He winked at you and you looked away, not really sure what to do. "Is that so? I can see why. Its very beautiful." You did your best not to stutter from how flirty he was being. "This statue here is for offerings. You find anemoculous and you offer them to the statues. In return, you get a gift from the God." "Oh! We have on of those where I'm from as well, but its a different person." You weren't really sure why you wouldn't tell him where you were from, maybe it was because he was super analytical, or the whole predator with its prey vibe he got going on. "There are 7 types of statues that represent the 7 archons, would it be ok if you'd tell me where you're from? I'm just so interested in you." He gave a flirty smirk and you couldn't help but blush a little bit. "Uhm I'm from Fontaine, if you couldn't tell by the clothes. Its quite similar to Mondstadt, but I find it here to be more peaceful and calming than there." "Fontaine huh? I've heard people live the luxury over there. Very formal." He laughed a bit, part of him was right but it wasn't all that good as he was making it sound. "Hmm I guess you could say that, my parents were pretty well off but I can't say much about the rest." Your gaze drifted off to the forming sunset and you wondered if you should head back soon. "Ill head back, ill tell you more about the attractions tomorrow. Don't forget our date tonight deary..." He waved goodbye and walked off. "Deary.." you said to yourself, he flattered you very much but all of it seemed off in a way. You didn't think to much about it and decided to head back too. Your memories of your first interaction with Kaeya was over once you heard someone call your name. A familiar voice that was. "Y/n!" Kaeya called out. Automatically knowing who it was, you turned around to be greeted by a fine tall man dressed in blue tones "Hi Kaeya!" "I dont think its a good idea for a pretty lady like you to be walking out so late at night." He sounded amused but you were over it. "Oh cut it out captain, I know you were just swooning some girls a couple minutes ago." "Haha so what, you jealous?" "Dont flatter yourself, why would I be jealous anyway? Feelings like those are just a waste of time" you hated to admit that you were just a tiny bit jealous. You weren't sure how your crush on the calvary captain formed but it did and it didn't seem to be going away any time soon. Part of you thought maybe he already knew and he was just toying with you. Or maybe he was oblivious to it, thinking no one could love such a person like him. Either way, you still kept these feelings inside. "There's no shame in bearing emotion, love, its just our nature. And for a while I think you've been feeling pretty intense emotions about a certain someone..." His hand tilted your chin so you could face up to him. Shoot did he know? How was that possible? Was I that obvious? You thought to yourself, you weren't sure how you were going to get out of this situation. "I...I-its nothing that concerns of you" you broke eye contact but you knew kaeya wasn't letting up. "A lie to a lier is no stranger, but if you wish to keep your secrets then who am I to cross such a boundary." He back off from you and you started to breathe again. You wanted to tell him so bad. How much you loved and cared for him, how much you so desperately wanted to be there for him no matter what situation. You were willing to take risks for him if it meant that one day you would forever be together. But maybe you thought the image you had of him was wrong. You knew well enough his flirty nature was never sincere, and how he was hiding something much darker then you ever wanted to imagine. Even so, you still wanted your

thoughts of him to become right. So before he walked off again you mustered up the courage. "Kaeya wait! I, I do actually want to tell you something." He looked surprised now but intrigued. "Ever since we met, there was always something different about you. It always left me wanting to know more and over the years I did learn more about you. But then I started feeling these weird emotions and having thse weird thoughts like thinking maybe one day we could be together...or knowing the real you even. I know you say less than you lead on but I felt like I'd be willing to take extreme risks to know who you actually are. I feel so safe around you and I always smile at those good memories we have. I dont know if this is called love, I dont know fully what love is but you're special enough for me to be having these feelings." Thats it, you let everything out. Awaiting for rejection, you began to panic when the silence held for what seemed like an eternity, until you heard him walking toward you. He held your chin again and gave you a look you've never seen before. A mix of admiration, and happiness. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and you tensed up. "Kaeya...." Before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a kiss. A new feeling started to arise and your whole body began to feel hot. Euphoria was coursing through your veins and you felt like you were going to fall without Kaeyas support. He was so warm, so intoxicating. You couldn't even feel where you were or he was, it all just became a bundle of sensations and happiness. You couldn't tell how long you both had kissed for but you were the first one to pull away as your breath began to shorten. "As much as a flirt as I am, I dont do well communicating my actual emotions. So id prefer to show them through my actions. I cant say it right now, but I hope that helped you realize what my answer is." He pulled you into a hug and you buried his face into his fur jacket. Already knowing his answer, you breathed a sigh of relief

#genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #i love kaeya #kaeya x gn reader #kaeya genshin impact #kaey

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #fluff #meet cute

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marvelmando · 5 years

Text

the first breath [p.parker x reader]

notes: hi! i... actually love this. i’m a sucker for soulmate! au’s, so naturally this was somewhat easy to write. this is just a small break from my tempest series, ill continue posting tomorrow (bc it’s my birthday!). tomorrow as in the eleventh, just in case it’s already daytime wherever you’re reading this!

contains: soulmate! au, some swearing

pairing: peter parker + reader

word count: 3.6k

“Hey!”

Peter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Looking around for the person, he saw a girl greeting a friend, and Peter sighed, unconsciously massaging the band covering his left wrist.

No matter how many times Peter had heard the word, it never failed to send a spike of panic in him. It was just a word, an unfairly common greeting phrase in America, but to Peter, it meant infinitely more.

“Stupid Soulmark,” Peter grumbled to himself as he walked the halls of Midtown High.

For as long as humans could tell, each individual was born with a word or phrase inked into the skin of their nondominant forearm. The Marks could say anything, but they belonged to the first words spoken to you by your soulmate.

Soulmarks were considered sacred by most of the world, and like most sacred things, they were hidden from public view. Soulbands were a staple in almost every culture, meant to only be taken off in front of your soulmate. Although modern times saw the general acceptance of most controversial topics that were shunned in the past, Soulbands seemed to never grow out of popularity. It was also a sense of security, to make sure that they couldn’t be said by the wrong person.

Some had easily-identifiable Marks. Where there was little room for doubt that the words spoken belonged to your soulmate. Others, like Peter, had simple, one-word Marks.

For as long as he could remember, Peter lived in a near-constant state of anxiety over the word. What would normally be an off-hand remark or a polite greeting made Peter’s heart skip and his knees grow weak.

Whenever greeted with the word, Peter would tense, and respond with a stiff, “Um, hi?” and watch as the person gave him a weird or blank look in return. There had been several instances - none of which he was particularly proud of - where Peter ran away rather than face the sting of false hope.

Most religions viewed Soulmarks as divine intervention, a sign that humans were blessed by the gods. A lot of the time, Peter wanted to curse whatever gods forced them into the arranged couplings.

Failing at keeping the scowl at bay, Peter stopped at his locker, twisting the lock and opening it to return his books.

“Hey, Peter,” a voice said from behind, and he instantly recognized it as Ned Leeds, his best (and only, really) friend. Peter turned only his head, unsurprised to find Betty Brant, Ned’s soulmate, at his side.

Like most matched individuals, Ned seemed to glow with happiness in the presence of their soulmate. Sometimes the dopey smile on Ned’s face was too much for Peter. Whether it was from envy or discomfort, feeling the never-ending, unadulterated joy exuding from him made Peter’s stomach turn and twist uncomfortably.

“Hey, Ned. Betty,” Peter nodded as a greeting, stacking his textbooks in his locker.

“Are you planning on going to the... internship, today?” Ned whispered, his inability for subtly flaring to life. Though Betty had been Ned’s match long enough to know Peter’s secret, it was a good thing the halls had pretty much been deserted at that point, as the school day had been over for more than ten minutes.

“Yeah,” Peter shut his locker, heaving his significantly lighter backpack over his shoulder. “Just neighborhood stuff, though.”

Ned nodded enthusiastically. Despite how preoccupied he was with Betty, Ned had always been Peter’s go-to Spider-Man guy. Ned called himself “The Guy in The Chair”, but Peter refused to say it out loud unless absolutely necessary.

They parted ways at the train station, where Peter went to find a secluded alley to change into his suit.

You had no idea what possessed your parents to up and move the family to New York.

You’d lived your entire life in a small, cozy town in the middle of nowhere. You’d enjoyed that life. Then suddenly, your father called you down one day earlier that summer to announce that in a few months, you’d be packing and moving to the heart of Queens.

Despite having been in the bustling city for weeks now, you still hadn’t gotten used to walking through the crowded streets. People were rude here; though, with the craziness of the city, you weren’t really sure you could blame them. Still, it filled you with frustration when you tried to weave through the streets, only to be knocked roughly in the shoulder and subsequently cursed out for no damn reason.

On the bright side - the only bright side, if you were being honest - was the exponential increase in the possibility that you would finally meet your soulmate.

Your hometown was lovely and quaint, but the general teenage population left a lot to be desired. It didn’t help that there were only fifty other people in your graduating class, or that you’d met and exchanged first words with every single of them already.

That being said, of all the people you’d met at Midtown so far, none of them had said the words branded on your right wrist. But to be fair, there weren’t many opportunities where someone had to yell, “I swear I wasn’t aiming at you!”

You didn’t have to worry about the possibility of danger in your old town, but in New York, you were vaguely concerned that the words would be uttered during a mugging.

Unfortunately, you were quite right to be concerned.

“All right, Karen, what do we got?”

Peter watched as the screen flashed, images of satellite footage and recordings of police radio calls popping up and disappearing again as Karen flipped through potential threats.

“The city is quiet today,” Karen’s robotic voice remarked. Distantly, Peter wondered how the voice was created, and if it was recorded, who the person was behind the voice. It was distinctly human, after all, without the awkward pauses and emphases that Siri usually had. “There have been no reports of any robberies or shootings.”

Peter sighed, bored and disappointed. He’d long gotten over the guilt of wanting some danger in the city.

Suddenly, before Karen could notify him, he heard a voice cry, “Stop that guy!”

Immediately swinging into action, Peter noticed a man in his mid-twenties sprinting down the sidewalk, shoving himself through the crowd. The woman who’d yelled for help was young, in her thirties, but still wasn’t fast enough to keep up.

Peter swung overhead, gaining distance and landing directly in the guy’s path. The thief skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in obvious fear at the sight of Spider-Man. He clutched a purse to his chest.

“It’s not nice to steal!” Peter yelled, moving to shoot a web at the purse. But the thief was quick, and he ducked under his web, making a run for it.

Peter was faster though and lunged to bodyslam him, sending him into the wall of a nearby building. The impact knocked the purse from his grasp, and it spilled to the ground as the man struggled to get back up. Peter webbed him to the wall and notified Karen to call the police.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Peter was about to leap onto the roof when an aggravated noise caught his attention instead.

He turned to see you growling, your splayed hand webbed to a streetlamp. The web the thief dodged must’ve hit you instead. Catching sight of him noticing you, you yelled out, “Hey!”

For once in his life, the word didn’t seem to register. He was, for lack of a better word, enchanted by you. Even with furious indignation twisting your face, he couldn’t stop staring at the depth of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Blinking, he said without thinking, “I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!”

It was a stupid response, admittedly. Of course, he wasn’t aiming for you. You’d probably noticed the thief and could probably make the connection.

However, Peter didn’t have time to think about the pointlessness of the protest, because he was too busy registering what you’d said. The word. His word.

Cheeks flaming under his mask, Peter braced himself for the rejection. But it never came.

Your eyes went impossibly wide, and you immediately stopped yanking against the web. Peter watched as you gaped at him, and thanks to the mechanics of the suit, he noticed that your heart rate increased significantly.

Almost in a trance, Peter stepped toward you. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Your mouth closed, and you visibly swallowed. “Depends,” your voice was tight, anxious. “How often do you accidentally shoot your webs at innocent bystanders?”

You flushed as you registered the double meaning behind the words. Peter watched in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you stammered to correct yourself.

“I-I just mean that -”

“It’s okay, I -”

Peter started to placate you, feeling the blood rushing through his veins like soda, popping and fizzing under his skin. But he was cut off by the sound of Karen’s voice, though distant, but urgent enough to draw his attention away from you.

“Peter, there’s a hostage situation that was just called in happening thirteen blocks away,” the AI announced, causing Peter to falter in his steps.

“I-I gotta go,” he told you, hurrying to free your trapped hand from the lamppost, and backing away reluctantly. “I’ll find you, I promise!”

He could see the disappointment on your face as you watched him scuttle off, and every cell in his body protested the distance he forced between him and his soulmate, but he knew he had to go.

“If you were anyone else, that’d be super creepy!” You yelled as Peter swung away. He smiled widely under his mask.

Your skin was still tingling and your cheeks were sore from smiling so much when you finally reached your apartment.

All you had to do was look at your mother for her to tell that you had met your soulmate. After spending an hour at the kitchen table being interrogated by your parents, you were finally released to your room to process.

You closed the door gently behind you and slid your back against the wood until your bottom rested on the ground. You tilted your head back, barely feeling the thunk as it collided with the door. Every time you tried to relax your face into a neutral expression, you remembered the way Spider-Man’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, and how your heart skipped several beats as he said the words you knew so well, and your lips crawled back into a giddy smile once more.

Even in your hometown in the middle of nowhere, you had known about Spider-Man. The superhero wasn’t nearly as popular as he seemed to be in the city he protected, but you still remembered the passing of phones and newspapers whenever Spider-Man saved another day or stopped another robbery. Even your high school had a day dedicated to him after a particularly miraculous defeat of the notorious Green Goblin, who’d terrorized the borough for weeks before he was stopped.

Spider-Man was a national - if not global - phenomenon. And he just so happened to be your soulmate.

You’d just reached for your phone to call your best friend from home when a knock on your window startled you.

You jumped, scrambling to your feet. Your apartment was on the eighth story, there was no way a burglar would have climbed all this way to rob you. A burglar wouldn’t knock either, you scoffed internally.

Tiptoeing to the window, you peered through the glass. Even under the dark cover of the late hour, you could distinctly make out the identity of the figure. You hurried to unlatch and open the pane, stepping back nervously when the figure climbed through, rather clumsily for how graceful he normally was.

Spider-Man was polite enough to close the window behind him, cutting off the brisk gust of wind that caused goosebumps to appear on your arms. You crossed them, rubbing them to warm yourself up.

When he straightened and faced you once more, you couldn’t help but stare back. You bit your lip anxiously, suddenly very aware of how messy your room was. You had, after all, just moved in, and most of your stuff was either still in boxes or strewn haphazardly about the room.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” you blurted, unable to help yourself. “We just moved here a couple weeks ago, and... well, y’know.” You gestured unhelpfully around the room.

Every cell in your body seemed as though they were vibrating. The muscles in your chest twitched and your bones ached to close the distance between the two of you. It was as though you and your soulmate were opposite ends of a magnet, and the field around you was pulling your bodies together.

“It-It’s okay,” Spider-Man stuttered, and you realized that he’d turned off his voice modulator. You hadn’t even realized earlier that he was using one, but you now recognized the difference. His voice was higher than before, not as robotic and crackly. “I don’t mind.”

You nodded awkwardly. Spider-Man shifted his balance between his feet, as if he too was fighting the urge to get closer.

“Uh, how did you find me, anyway?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, there’s this intelligence system installed in my suit, and I had her look up your address,” the eyes of his suit narrowed sharply as if he was wincing, probably at how creepy it sounded. “I hope that’s not too creepy, because it sounds pretty creepy. I didn’t - I mean, I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”

You smiled. Spider-Man rambled adorably, and though the thought of him looking up your address should have been terrifying, you found that you didn’t mind at all. You weren’t sure if it was because he was your soulmate, or if it was because he was a superhero. Either way, you placated him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Despite your insistence that it was fine, Spider-Man still held himself back, hesitant to move forward with the conversation. To cut through the awkward tension, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I like your suit,” you said, cringing immediately after. While true, that wasn’t exactly what you meant to say.

With the mask, you couldn’t decipher Spider-Man’s reaction. Though, after a brief moment, he chuckled.

“Thanks,” he giggled. You felt yourself relax. “I like your shirt.”

You looked down. It was an old band shirt that you bought at a thrift store a few years ago and was well-worn, the ink faded and several holes stretching the neck out. “Uh, thanks.” You smiled nonetheless because it seemed that Spider-Man was just as nervous as you were, which inexplicably made you feel much better.

“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “But if you know my address, you probably know my name, too.”

You thought you could see Spider-Man smiling under the mask. It shifted over his face as he accepted the handshake, wrapping his hand around yours. Even through the fabric of his suit, his skin burned like a furnace. From anyone else, it may have been stifling. But from him, the warmth was cozy, a calming heat rushing through your hand and up your arm, wrapping around your heart like a security blanket.

“I do,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. It took you a second to connect what he meant.

The seconds passed and your hands were no longer shaking, but neither of you dropped the hold. You found yourself drifting closer toward Spider-Man, and it took all of your energy not to fall into his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m guessing that your real name’s not Spider-Man,” you cocked your head. “And I feel like it’s only fair that I know my soulmate’s name, too.”

Your breath hitched. You heard him inhale sharply, too. It was the first time you’d directly acknowledged to each other what you were, and it suddenly was too real for you.

You jerked your hand back, embarrassed. Your hand was startlingly cold now, suddenly bereft of Spider-Man’s touch. You flexed it subconsciously, yearning to reach out and grab his hand again.

“I - I...” you tried to explain yourself, but the wide, questioning eyes of his suit made you falter. You averted your eyes as you took an anxious step back, fighting against an overwhelming urge to flee.

“No, wait -” Spider-Man said, and reached up and yanked his mask off in one swift motion.

Your eyes immediately found his, as if they were pulled instinctively to each other. His soft almond-shaped eyes were filled with worry and caution, the warm brown irises gleaming in the darkness of your room. The lights of the ever-glowing city were the only light filtering in your room, and the shadows cut angles against Spider-Man’s cheekbones, carving his jowls and accentuating his slim mouth. Even in the darkness, you could make out the light smattering of freckles across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, and the endearing flick of his left eyebrow, emphasized by their worried arch.

The chestnut curls piled on top of his head were tousled from the mask and flipped haphazardly over his forehead. His ears stuck out from his head, but instead of looking awkward, they fit his face nicely, softening the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. They were what made his already stunning face heartbreakingly adorable, and you fought the need to run your fingers over the shell of them.

Though the shadowy bags under his eyes conveyed a sense of exhaustion too severe for his apparent age, Spider-Man was younger than you thought. If you were to hazard a guess, Spider-Man was about your age, give or take a couple years.

“My name’s Peter,” he breathed, looking slightly panicked as you studied him. “Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker,” you whispered, testing out the name on your tongue. The words were gentle but the pounding in your chest was overwhelming. The tension that grew since being in his presence while pulling yourself away made you feel as if you were drowning, gasping for breath. There was a bursting sensation in your stomach, then a warm, satisfying weight that spoke of absolute certainty that Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, was your soulmate.

You felt your body inch toward his, and the relief flooding his face was palpable. You stepped closer to him, relishing in the way your body hummed in delight at the closeness.

Peter looked down at you, his gaze sweet and caring as he searched your face. There was a moment of content examination spent in comfortable silence as you both memorized every little detail of each other’s faces.

It should have been awkward, looking and saying nothing, but the longer you spent staring into each other’s eyes, the farther you seemed to fall. It was completely ridiculous and entirely premature, but you were certain that Peter was someone you could fall madly in love with.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning shyly.

“Hi,” Peter responded just as softly, a mirroring smile stretching his lips.

Suddenly realizing something, you moved back just enough to bring your hand up. Peter backed away slightly, though it seemed to pain him.

You grabbed at the band covering your forearm, watching Peter’s expression as you unwound it. His eyes went wide, shifting from your arm to your eyes, then back to your arm as the band fell away and exposed your Mark.

Eyes meeting yours for permission, he tenderly took your proffered arm. His eyes roved over the Mark, before he brought his own hand to his mouth, grabbing the middle finger of his glove and yanking it off.

With his bared hand, he reverently ghosted his fingers over the inked letters. The look on his face was pure awe. “I really wasn’t aiming for you.”

He winced as though the words weren’t meant to escape. You chuckled. “I know.”

The light caressing of his fingertips against the sacred Mark shot spikes of pleasure through your body. It was a heady feeling, seeing your life partner touching the place meant for only the two of you.

When he looked back up at you, his face was split in an achingly loving smile. He pulled away, and yanked on the sleeve, revealing his own band.

It was simpler than yours, designed to fit slimly to the skin under his suit. It only took a simple click of his finger for it to release. On the dip of the inside of his wrist was the word, “hey!” written in your handwriting. With gentle movements, you traced the lines with your fingers. Peter visibly shuddered, watching you soak in the Mark.

Though you could’ve stared at it forever, you finally tore your eyes away. You met Peter’s gaze, finding the weight of it easier to handle than you thought.

With your thumb pressed to the Mark, and his hand wrapped around yours, the universe nudged you together. You and Peter fell into each other, lips meeting and melding as your bodies and souls collided like two exploding stars; fate and gravity and destiny crashing into each other and settling happily between you and your soulmate.

Your Mark burned and your lips ached with the pressure of your shared kisses. Reality forced your bodies apart, foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath, but all at once, your soul felt grounded - you hadn’t even realized how empty it was until it found Peter’s.

In the safety of his arms, you breached the surface and took your first full breath.

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kusunogatari · 4 years

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Fifteen | World War ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Nohara Rin, Hatake Kakashi, Namikaze Minato ] [ Verse: A Tear in Time ]

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They are only children. And already they know war, and loss.

Within the first few weeks of reaching chūnin rank, Ryū’s team is devastated on the battlefield. Her two male teammates, barely crowning into puberty, are slaughtered by Iwa nin before her sensei arrives to dispatch them. The jōnin woman finds her huddled in a doton mound one of them had crafted to keep her safe, in shock and trembling.

Without a team, she is instead shuffled into the hospital full-time to make use of her medical training and kekkei genkai. Occasionally Rin is there too whenever her team is off assignment, but it’s rare. Yet she still makes an effort to keep an eye on her friend whenever there’s a chance. It’s rather easy to tell that the deaths still weigh on Ryū’s mind, even weeks after the losses.

It’s the day she decides to turn in her resignation of her shinobi rank that Ryū receives news. A cell has temporarily lost a member due to illness, and given her similar role (and the importance of the mission), she’s to fill the vacancy until they recover.

What takes her aback is who she’s to fill in for.

“Are you okay?”

Looking up from her hospital cot, Rin smiles sheepishly. “Yeah...mild case of pneumonia. I’ll be all right, but...I need to stay back and recover. They can’t delay the mission, and given how stretched thin everyone is, no one else is available.”

Concern knitting her brows, Ryū crosses the room and sits beside her.

“...look, I…” The Nohara hesitates. “...if you don’t want to fill the spot, please don’t. But...you were the first person I thought of. I know you care about those two dummies as much as I do. I...I trust you with them. And they need a medic to keep them patched up, ne? But...if you’re still not sure about keeping on as a kunoichi, then I don’t want to pressure you. I know you got...really shaken up.”

Ryū heaves a soft sigh, gaze dropping to her lap. “...I do want to resign, but...I’ll do it. I don’t want you to worry about them. Once that mission is over, I’ll tender my resignation.” She manages a hint of a smile. “But I better do this, first.”

“Thank you. I’ll rest a lot better knowing they’re in your hands. Besides, you know how they bicker. You’ve always been a good peacekeeper,” Rin notes sheepishly. “I know it’s rather short notice, so Minato-sensei can fill you in on the details before you go. It’s pretty straightforward, but also really important.”

A curt nod flutters Ryū’s ponytail. “You can count on me…!”

With her acceptance of the mission, the rest of team Minato gathers to discuss their strategy and adjust to their new temporary teammate.

“Thank you for signing on, Ryū-chan,” Minato first offers sincerely. “It’s critical we pull this mission off.”

She simply nods in reply.

Kakashi eyes her a bit warily. “Not going to freeze up on us, are you? Are you fit for active duty after losing your team?”

“Oi, Bakakashi!” Obito cuts in, curling a fist. “Don’t be such an asshole! I doubt you’d be so tough if you lost me and Rin, huh?”

“Rin, maybe,” Kakashi counters sourly, making the Uchiha puff up in indignation

“I’ll be fine,” is Ryū’s quiet assurance, trying to cut off the impending argument.

Kakashi doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t counter her.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Minato instead offers sternly, shooting his underling a warning look, “so long as you two do your jobs and keep the medic safe. Just remember the training you’ve done with Rin, and apply it to Ryū. If we lose our medic, we’ll be in trouble.”

Obito sniffs stubbornly. “Don’t worry, Ryū - I’ll protect you!”

“You barely protect yourself,” Kakashi mutters under his breath.

But before another fight breaks out, Minato orders a few rounds of practice to both reintroduce Ryū to combat, and ensure the three of them can synchronize. It begins a little shakily, but soon enough her reflexes brush off the dust. The boys, though still at odds with each other, manage to pass Minato’s expectations.

“We meet tomorrow at oh-five hundred hours by the main gate. It’s a good trek to Kannabi-kyō, so be prepared, but don’t overpack.”

The three of them nod as the squad leader takes his leave.

“I’m gonna pack early,” Kakashi then announces before doing the same.

Once he’s gone, Obito lets out a heavy exhale, hands weaving behind his head. “Sorry about him, Ryū. He’s just a jerk. I can’t believe he questioned you like that!”

“Well, it’s...a legitimate concern,” she murmurs in reply. “If I’m still traumatized, it could compromise me in a critical moment.”

“But you’re the medic! It’s our job to protect you! Just like we do with Rin,” he huffs, tightly crossing his arms with a scowl. “Kakashi knows it, and still said that. He was just saying it to be cruel! I almost punched him…”

In spite of herself, Ryū gives a small giggle. “You don’t need to punch him. You guys need to get along, ne?”

“We’d get along better if he wasn’t such a jerk.”

She smiles wearily. “Well...we’ll get this mission done, and then Rin should be back on her feet. I’m sure Kakashi’s just unhappy at her being traded out. It can’t be easy having an outsider on your team, ne?”

“But you’re our friend, too!”

“Maybe...but teammates are different. You have to mesh in a different way, ne? I mean...lives are at stake on missions. You have to be fully confident in them beyond just being friends.”

Obito’s cheeks puff slightly. “...why are you making excuses for him?”

“I’m not, it’s just...how it is.” Ryū glances aside, slightly somber. “...I’m nervous, too. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been in the field, and...while I trust you and Kakashi, we haven’t really fought together. It won’t be the same as it was with my teammates…”

At that, Obito hesitates, clearly not sure how to approach the subject. “W-well...it’ll be okay! We’ll go to Kusa, take out that bridge, and be back before you know it! Then all of us can be happy it’s done.”

That brings a smile back to her face. “...you’re right.”

In truth, part of her is bittersweetly happy. After all, she’s been fond of Obito for a while now. Even if it’s a mission, a little time around him is...nice. And Rin knows as much. Part of Ryū wonders if her friend had that partially in mind when she chose her as her fill-in.

Even if Ryū knows, in the long run, Obito would rather be with Rin.

His crush on his teammate is obvious to...pretty much everyone in their year. But Ryū decides to content herself with what she’s allowed.

She won’t let them down…!

Five a.m. comes early, butterflies of nerves hatching out in Ryū’s gut as she approaches the gate. She’s third to arrive, only Obito still missing.

Rin always talks about his tardiness.

“Maybe we should just go without him,” Kakashi mutters.

Neither Ryū nor Minato bother to counter him, knowing it won’t do any good.

“I’m coming! Wait guys!”

“Obito!” Ryū calls as he approaches.

“About time you showed up - let’s get going.”

Obito scowls at his teammate, but doesn’t retort at Ryū’s pleading look for peace.

The moment they leave the village behind, the tension begins to build. A nervous silence falls between them. Minato leads, Ryū behind him as Obito and then Kakashi bring up the rear.

“You have talent in the sensory, don’t you Ryū-chan?”

“Hai.”

“Try to keep those senses spread once we get far enough out. Any additional warning to people nearby will make a difference.”

Swallowing tensely, she nods.

As they approach the border, however, talk begins to break out.

“So...now that Kakashi is a jōnin, he’ll be taking over as squad leader for this mission. I’ll be splitting off to complete my own task.”

Ryū stiffens in surprise - she hadn’t heard about his advancement. “...congratulations.”

“Rin told me to give you this,” Minato then offers, holding out a medical pouch. “And this kunai is from me.”

An awkward silence falls as Kakashi looks expectantly to Obito.

“I...I didn’t get you anything, mister sour attitude,” he rebukes, crossing his arms.

“Then you can do something else: carry my stuff.”

“Yeah right! I’m an Uchiha! I don’t just -!”

“Guys, please,” Ryū cuts in wearily.

“Come on...let’s go over the plan.” Minato draws out a map, detailing their assignment to get behind enemy lines and destroy the Kannabi bridge while he engages the front line.

But before they can reach their splitting point, an Iwa nin makes a strike.

Kakashi, always forward, begins attacking on his own despite Minato’s warning. Ryū and Obito both hang back...only to have a clone nearly reach them.

If not for Minato, it would have.

But once the fight is over, Kakashi retrieved with a shunshin by Minato, Ryū works on a wound in his shoulder.

“That was foolish,” she quietly notes before Obito can intervene.

“It got the job done.”

“And required Minato-sensei to haul you back.” Silvers lift to Kakashi’s face, not backing down from his glower. “...you forget, he won’t be with us soon. You won’t have him to fall back on.”

“Tch…”

As Obito and Kakashi begin to bicker, ignoring her calls for peace, Minato lectures them both. “I know we’re not our usual team...but teamwork is still our greatest weapon. Don’t forget it. Ryū, get Kakashi patched up...we’ll travel a bit further, and then rest for the night.”

Once evening falls, Minato volunteers for first shift, Kakashi second. Ryū lays out her bedroll, pausing as she notices Obito approach the squad leader.

...you were right, Rin. Things are still so tense between those two. They need YOU here, not me… Gaze averting, she sighs and hunkers down, asleep as Obito and Minato speak.

Come morning, Ryū finds Kakashi’s wound satisfactory. “If you’re not careful, it can still reopen.”

He just grunts in response, pulling his top back up over the bandages.

“All right...from here on, we split,” Minato remarks gravely. “We’re further into enemy territory now...you’re sure to encounter larger numbers. Be on your guard.”

The trio nod, and then take off while Minato flickers.

Kusa’s giant bamboo forms an eerie landscape, the endless expanse of green stalks making judging distance difficult. Ryū does her best to keep her senses piqued as her eyes falter.

And then, Kakashi raises a hand to stop them.

At the fore, an Iwa nin launches bamboo spears, Obito blocking with katon. He and Kakashi ready themselves for battle, Ryū taking a defensive stance.

It’s then she notices a second chakra...but her reaction is just a little too slow.

“Gyah!” A cry leaves her throat as the butt of a hand chops at her neck. Her vision flickers, and then cuts out as she’s knocked unconscious.

Just before she fades, she hears the boys shout in defiance.

From there...things get strange. Immediately, she can tell she’s in a genjutsu. The weird, distorting shapes and wavering voices attempt to wear at her mind and dig at any information held within. But she can’t let anything slip...she can’t let them down…

Outside the illusion, her face twitches, eyelids flickering and mouth moving as though speaking. But nothing leaves her lips, brows furrowing.

“Maa, maa...a tough one. We might have to try something else. In the meantime...I think there’s someone outside you need to take care of.”

“Just give me a moment.”

Crouching in front of Ryū, the nin yanks her head back by her ponytail. “Stubborn little brat...but I’ll fix you.”

The feeling roughly translates through the illusion, a twitch running through her body.

But the next thing she knows, the genjutsu breaks like glass. And in front of her crouch Obito and Kakashi: one with awakened Sharingan, the other with a wounded eye. “You -?”

“Come on, we have to get out of here!”

“Not so fast…”

At the entrance of the false cave, the last Iwa nin smirks. And with a pulse of chakra...the structure begins to buckle.

“RUN!��

Knees shaky after being bound, Ryū nonetheless sprints alongside them to the exit. Thirty paces, twenty, ten -!

“Ah!”

Skidding to a stop, she spots Kakashi downed by a stone, Obito retreating to fetch him. Above them, a chunk of stone lurches downward.

It all happens in a blink.

Suddenly, she’s no longer in the cave. Instead, a snowy mountain rests beneath her feet, a wind threatening to chill her to the bone. And above her, barreling down the slope, an avalanche threatens her doom.

She is calm.

And then a voice leaves her throat...but it’s not her own.

“Bōei no Kabe!”

With a peal like a great bell, the stone crashes down upon them.

But it does not crush them.

Hands raised, Ryū stares up at the boulder a foot above her face, chest heaving and chakra immediately dipping dangerously low. Over her palms, spreading in an arc, a wall of her iridescent white energy glows.

Obito, Kakashi braced against his shoulder, gawks.

“We...h-have to move…!” she grunts. “I-I can’t…!”

He shakes his head to clear it. “Can -? Can you open a hole?”

Trembling, Ryū lets one of her hands lower, the effort threatening to tear her muscles. At her urging, part of the chakra wall gives way. Dust immediately floods the space within, all of them coughing. “Go…!”

Helping Kakashi up, Obito then crawls out, turning back to Ryū. “Here! Take my hand!”

She reaches, fingers stretching just within his reach. With a yank, he tears her out from under the rock just as her chakra fades.

It falls with an earth-shattering crunch.

Utterly limp with exhaustion, Ryū finds herself landed atop Obito. “Nn…”

“...Kakashi...we gotta -!”

“Persistent little brats, aren’t you…?”

The boys tense as reinforcements arrive.

They’re surrounded.

In his hand, Kakashi grips his gifted kunai. “Obito...take Ryū, and get out of here.”

“But -?!”

“Just go!” With a heave, Kakashi throws the blade, which lands in the center of the crowd.

And with a plume of vapor, Minato materializes, drawn by the seal.

“Wha-?”

In a blink...all the Iwa nin lay dead.

Landing beside the trio, Minato’s expression is hardened with battle. “...what happened? Ryū’s chakra feels dangerously low.”

With the realization of safety, however, Ryū loses her grip and passes out.

“- could have been killed -!”

“- can’t believe it…”

“- should heal if you -”

“Mm…” Brow twitching, Ryū forces her eyes to open.

Above her is a rather familiar ceiling.

Hospital.

Mind in a fog, she blinks bleary eyes.

“She’s awake!”

Turning, Ryū can’t even muster the energy to jolt as Rin latches onto her. “R...Rin…?”

“Oh thank goodness...you’ve been out for so long, I was worried! What did you do that drained your chakra so badly?”

“...I -?”

“Rin, you should let her rest, awake or not,” Minato chides from the doorway. Beside him, both Obito and Kakashi strain to see into the room.

“But sensei -!”

He sighs. “...just don’t stress her. She’s still recovering, all right?”

“...hai.”

As he leaves, the boys make their way in.

“You okay?” Obito asks, expression tense.

“I’m...really tired…”

“Sensei said your chakra system got damaged from that technique you used,” Kakashi offers. “It pulled almost all your chakra immediately. You didn’t tell us you knew any barrier ninjutsu.”

At that, her brow furrows. “...I...I don’t.”

“...but -?”

“Maybe we should talk about all that later, ne?” Rin offers in a hushed tone. “You heard what sensei said: don’t stress her!”

Kakashi, chastised, actually quiets.

“...well, either way, you saved our lives,” Obito then offers quietly. “That doton would have crushed us if it weren’t for you.”

“See? I told you guys I picked the best fill-in for me, ne? Ryū was exactly what you needed!”

“Hatake-kun?”

They all look to the door where another medic stands. “Yes?”

“It’s time for you to prep for your surgery.”

Ryū frowns. “Surgery?”

“I’ll go with you,” Rin offers. “Get some rest, Ryū!”

Having no chance to reply, she just watches them go.

“...so, uh…”

Her head turns to Obito, still standing beside her cot.

“How much do you remember? I heard you might be a little fuzzy since you got so tired.”

“There’s...bits and pieces. I...remember the stone, and it falling, but…” Again her brow furrows. “...I used a barrier…?”

“Yeah! Stopped the rock just above our heads - it was amazing!”

“But I don’t know any barrier jutsu, Obito. I…”

“Maybe you...overheard it somewhere before?”

For a moment, her mind flickers back to the snowy scene she’d witnessed. “...there was...something, but…”

“What?”

“...it was like a memory. But it wasn’t mine. I was on a mountain, and snow was falling on me...and I used that jutsu. But that was the first time I remember hearing it.”

“Eh…?” Obito blinks. “A memory...uh...oh! Maybe it was one from a past life, huh? I mean...if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well...you used it, either way. And then you let me and Kakashi out. I pulled you up, and the whole thing collapsed! Then Minato-sensei found us with Kakashi’s new kunai, and...we finished destroying the bridge, and came back here. You’ve been asleep for three whole days!”

The very thought makes her tired. “So...we did it. The mission was a success.”

“Yup! And Rin’s all better, so...you can retire like you wanted to.”

She pauses. “You...know about that?”

“Well, uh...Rin kinda let it slip when we got back. Something about how you were so close to quitting, and then she ‘dragged you into this mess’, as she put it. I think she felt bad...but...she was right. If you weren’t there, we might’ve died.”

“...and if Rin was there, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in that position to begin with,” she replies bitterly.

“Well...maybe. But the point is, you still saved us. So...thank you.”

“If I hadn’t gotten grabbed, then -”

“Ryū,” Obito cuts in. “It happened. But it turned out okay. That’s what matters, right?”

She doesn’t reply, head turning to look up at the ceiling.

“...listen, uh…” He pauses. “...Rin, she...she kinda rambled when we got back. And, er...your plans to quit weren’t all she said by accident.”

A horrible knowing builds in Ryū’s gut.

“...I’m a pretty lucky guy to have two really cool medic kunoichi who care about me. I know Rin doesn’t see me like I saw her. For whatever reason, she still thinks Kakashi’s all that and more. Dunno why, he’s such a pain...I know I wouldn’t wanna date him...”

Ryū’s eyes close.

“But uh...y’know...it was really cool getting to do a mission with you. Even if it got kinda scary there toward the end. So I thought, y’know...uh…” He fumbles for a moment. “...maybe...some other time, we could...do something else? Together, I-I mean? Like...er…”

Greys fly back open. Is...is he…?

“...well, I dunno if you’d want to. And maybe now’s a really...bad time to ask. But I just -”

He cuts off as Ryū turns to him, her expression tinged with a tired hope. “You wanna...go out with me…?”

Jolting, Obito flushes pink. “Y...yeah! I guess that’s what I’m...trying to say, heh. Would -? Would that be...okay?”

Slowly, a relieved smile pulls at her lips. “...yeah. I...I’d like that.”

“...okay! Uh...cool! Then...then I’ll just...plan on that! B-but you gotta get well, first! Um...do you like flowers? I could bring you some flowers, or -?”

“It would just be nice - if you have time - if you could...stop in and say hi…?”

“...yeah! I can do that!” He flashes a nervous smile. “So, uh...I’ll let you get some rest, okay? And I’ll...see you tomorrow?”

“...okay.”

“Okay. Cool.” He starts backing out of the room, giving a little wave. “...bye!”

Ryū gives a soft snort, watching him go.

“...bye.”

GUH It’s late and I’m exhausted but here we gooo. Meg suggested using this prompt for something same-gen during the third war with everyone as kiddos, and...I kinda latched onto that, ahaha~ Cuz I love smashing canon with a hammer xD I planned to used PART of this in another drabble, but...I think I can still do the other one and fudge it a little. Cuz it’s still different enough to count, but...ye xD Ryū’s bloodline is silly and complicated BUT one thing about it is the retaining of bits of memory from past lives. And I already have it established that - in life or death situations - these tends to hit them with snippets to help keep them alive, as part of ANOTHER aspect of their bloodline, but...that would take a while to elaborate. In short, the memory thing isn’t an asspull, it’s part of her clan’s lore, I promise :’D She saw a time when one of her ancestors used that technique, and thus “learned” it (partially) and used it herself to stop the boulder. Cuz again, canon is smashy smashy lmao But yeah, I’m rambling cuz I’m VERY tired, so I best go sleep~ Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #nohara rin #hatake kakashi #namikaze minato #a tear in time [ canon verse ]

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Broken Wings, pt. 8

08: Love the way you lie

Summary: Ethan and Grayson are both trying to say goodbye to her, just in case everything goes awry.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Word Count: ~ 3000

Broken Wings (Angel AU - G.D.) Masterlist

She laid with her head in his lap, her Y/H/C hair sprawled over his inked thighs as he propped himself up on his elbows. Grayson had spent every waking minute with her, terrified of what's to come once the therapist she called for arrives. He didn't want her risking her current life for a slim possibility of living it until the end only to lose her forever after. Sure, having her die in his arms for centuries has been a living hell, but he always he she'd come back to him after. He always felt her soul is still present. Grayson feared should she change the coarse of her destiny, she'd find peace and her soul would be laid to rest and that...facing a forever without her – the biggest heartache of his existence...that would surely be enough to kill him.

„Whatcu' thinkin' about, angel eyes?“ She teased, her tone playful and airy, so much giddiness hiding behind every letter of every word that Grayson felt his heart die little by little at the thought of losing her. It was a painful ache, a pinch at the core of his being, one that he couldn't fight nor deny.

„You do realize that silence usually means you're back in your broody mood and the bad thoughts are eating away at you?“ She deducts, sitting up to properly look at him, her hair falling all around her beautiful face, framing it in a heavenly manor. Out of all the faces she had in the past, there was never one Grayson couldn't love.

„I'm not broody!“ Grayson defended, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows furrowing, as if the words itself was an insult when he really just wanted to throw her off his scent. He refused to burden her with his gloominess.

„You're as broody as they come.“ She giggled in his face, throwing a leg over his lap, allowing herself a straddling position as her hands came up to his face, holding it as if it's the Sun...and it is. It is a small piece of sunshine in the palm of her hand – beauty and flames, all together. „But I still love you just the same.“ She smiled, her eyes giving off intense longing and aching neediness he knew he couldn't indulge in.

But she was reckless. As always.

It nearly stopped Grayson's heart when he saw her face coming closer to his, her lips pursed and nearly on his lips. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the soft plush of her lips brush the tip of his nose, his hands premature with their action as they were not only on her hips, but already pushing her off in a rough manor she despised.

„Seriously?!“ She exclaimed, her face one of anger and disappointment, a brewing fight just under the surface. „STOP THROWING ME INTO THE SAND LIKE I'M A RAGDOLL!“ She huffed, getting up on her own as Grayson tried to help, which she ignored completely....Of course. She's as stubborn as they get – one of the traits nearly all her previous reincarnations possessed.

„I'm sorry. I just didn't want to risk it.“ Grayson put his hands in his front pockets, managing to keep eye contact with the stormy eyes of his forevermore, wondering how dead he'd be if looks could kill because she had the deadliest eyes he has ever seen. No one, not Y/N, not Amara, absolutely not one had the same fury in their eyes as Caroline. She was unpredictable and perhaps that was the part of why she's different and why she might end the cycle....or it was because of years of mental torture her past lives had subjected her to.

„It's not just about that, Grayson! Okay?!“ And there it is, the avalanche he knew would come. She had been bottling everything in...if you could call it that, but despite her being openly discontent in the past, Grayson knew the look she held in her eyes wasn't a look of someone who simply shows their unhappiness, rather a look of a woman who's keeping in a storm – an enraged look she let out.

„Hey, guys! Darren is here!“ Ethan called out, his voice getting lost in the sound of crashing waves, but they heard him fine.

„NOT NOW!“ They both screamed in unison, allowing Caroline to spew fire.

„You keep saying you want to protect me, but every little bit of protection you provide only hurt me more! YOU FUCKING TOLD ME TO BE WITH ETHAN! And to make matters worse...I actually think I could survive the kiss. I don't think I'm going to die in this life and while I'm not particularly eager to die a horrible death, I'd still try because that's how much confidence I have in us.“ She stopped to draw in a breath, her cheeks flushed a darker pink, one Grayson would usually run his fingertip over, but he feared losing a finger if he tried at all.

„And then you tell me not to try this hypnosis thing? Literally the only thing that would let us be together?!“ She huffed, smacking her hair back against the wind.

„You...do you not want me?“ Her tone finally returned to normal, but it wasn't the normal Grayson had hoped for as he remained silent, allowing her this chance to blow off some steam. He had wanted the cheery, playful Caroline, not the defeated, vulnerable one.

„Is that what this is about? Do you not like this body? Or this personality?“ She began to list, making his eyes bulge and for the first time since she started this rant, Grayson had opened his mouth to speak against her.

„Absolutely not! I love you – all of you!“ He stepped toward her in his attempt to prove it so, but she stepped back at the same time, not wanting the contact because this is when her illness came to collect, convincing her she's not good enough...not for him. Convincing her he didn't want her. Not this version, at least.

„Then why do I feel like I don't measure up? Huh? How can you ever claim to love me, when I'm never the same woman you met in the past life? I'm never the same in any way, so how can you love me so unconditionally? Maybe it's just a pattern – a habit of sorts. Because I don't think any of us could ever fill the giant hole Y/N left in your heart and I may be mistaken but“, a choked sob stopped her mid sentence, not allowing her to continue as she looked away with tears in her eyes...those beautiful eyes, her lips thinning as they set in a firm line.

„But I don't think I am...She was the original and I...all of us were merely fading copies of the masterpiece you always wished to have. And as all copies tend to do, we're nothing like the original...no one can paint the same image thousands of times.“ She shrugged, taking note of his stunned silence and near desperation as a confirmation of sorts, one she knew he wouldn't utter but lingered deep in his subconsciousness.

She turned on her heel, walking back to meet with Darren. If she got lost in time, at least she'll make it worth something. Perhaps her breaking the curse at the beginning will give Y/N and Grayson the happy ending they deserved. Perhaps Ethan will be happier without ever knowing or losing Amara. Perhaps Cameron will be happier without chaperoning her brothers across the world and a new copy of herself who was probably the least favorite part of her immortality.

Wiping her tears away, she took in a deep breath – one that filled her lungs and set a bundle of oxygen running through her body and to her brain, clearing her troubled thoughts enough to make herself seem presentable for Darren. Otherwise, he wouldn't help her – any sign of instability and her plan is gone.

And then she saw the older man, her legs taking her to him faster and faster until she had her arms wrapped around him. She had the only man who believed she wasn't insane with her again and it did give her some solid ground to build herself back up again.

„You needed me?“ He chuckled, noticing the difference on her already, but remaining quiet about it.

„There's so much to tell.“

They spent hours talking, enough to explain everything, but not nearly enough for him to wrap his mind around it – especially when the fallen angel she spoke of was nowhere to be found.

„What if you can't come back from it?“ Darren questioned, his previously cheerful persona replaced with a worried man.

„Then I don't...Better than spending the rest of my life fighting visions of the past, alone.“ She bit on the inside of her bottom lip, gnawing on it as he eyed her carefully.

„Caroline...“ Darren tried, but he knew she made her mind up already. Anything he says will fall on deaf ears.

„Please. I'm ready. Just do it. Now.“ She pleaded, her hand atop of his, tightly holding onto him.

Reluctantly, he agreed, but not immediately. „Tomorrow.“ He said.

„Okay.“ She whispered, giving the man time to recuperate and put himself back together. She needed some time too.

Caroline sat on her bed, looking at her bare feet in thought. She could still see flashes of her previous lives whenever she shut her eyes close or with eyes wide open if she concentrated hard enough.

„Care?“ Ethan's voice broke her focus, stopping her from delving deeper into her mind.

„Yeah?“ Her voice is small, her tone weak. She's on edge and he sees it. He's gotten too good at spotting people's weaknesses and exploiting them for his own gain. But he also knew she'd appreciate him not commenting on it, so he didn't, even if he felt the itch to do so.

„Can I ask you something?“ He licks his bottom lip, coming closer to her only to sit on the bed across from hers...where her roommate used to sleep before jumping to her death.

„Always.“ She offered a reassuring smile, despite not knowing if she had anything left to offer to anyone. Ethan seemed to take it to heart, giving her a small smile in return, the best one he could afford to give without it looking forced.

„Do I stand a chance? If you come back and the curse isn't lifted, would you be mine?“ Ethan decided to put it all out there, make sure she knows she has choices and Grayson isn't the only one. And perhaps she was right, he did see Amara in her and it drew him in for she was so much alike her in too many ways for it to be a coincidence – more than any other version of her ever was. But Ethan found he loves the debris of Caroline's essence as well, even if those debris longed for his brother more than they'll ever long for him.

„I...I don't know.“ She was honest. A part of her was screaming no, because how could she ever love someone that wasn't Grayson? How could she love a man who looked like him, but wasn't him? How could she love a man she knew loved another that lived deep within her? But another part of her was wistful and it wanted Ethan and the easy love he brought with him. It was so effortless with him – no looming curses, no death caused by a simple kiss...he was kind and understanding, beautiful and thrilling and sexy as the hell he belonged in. But he wasn't Grayson...even if he would have made her life an unforgettable adventure.

„At least it's not a no.“ Ethan chuckles dryly, moving over to sit beside her, his weight shifting the mattress, tipping Y/N into him.

„I gotcha!“ He held onto her, his eyes immersed in hers as the panic of possibly falling fled her and he couldn't help but think how he wished Grayson wasn't around anymore. How he wished his brother was gone and he could have this chance with this incredible girl who would surely drive him insane five times a day, but he'd still be happy. He'd still count his lucky stars for having her in his life.

„I really want to kiss you right now.“ Ethan admitted, making her mouth go dry. She couldn't lie, she wanted to kiss him too. Just once, simply to know how it feels, to let him have that one kiss that would give him a piece of Amara back. She didn't want him to be miserable and she didn't want to be the reason why. So yes, she wanted to kiss him. But every fiber of her being told her not to.

„Ditto.“ She whispered, smiling as he frowned because he knew that if she hadn't replied with actions, but only words, she wouldn't do it. He knew her enough to know she's a wild one and considering her lips weren't on his, they won't be. Not for a while, at least.

„Look...whatever you see or hear tomorrow, make sure you come back in time, okay? If you can't convince any of us to bring you up, disappear. Don't let us touch you until you find a way out. Okay?“ Ethan repeated, swallowing thickly because he still remembered the horror of Y/N's death. It was gruesome and he never wanted for Caroline to feel it nor see it.

„I'll do my best, Mr. Bossy!“ She embraced him, her hands wrapped around him, hooked at the back of his neck as he buried his face in hers, inhaling her – all of her.

„Got time for one more?“ Another voice, one that sends chills down her back spoke, her eyes opening at the sound. She'd know his voice anywhere.

„I don't think it's the best idea.“ She detached herself from her favorite demon, a title she'd ever tell him about, only to wrap her arms around herself, needing an extra layer of protection despite the fact the hurt he causes is from the inside and there's not shield for those kinds of injuries.

„Please.“ Grayson's plea was the hardest thing she could ever hear right now, because he never just asked – he poured every human emotion into it, giving it weight of a hundred collapsing stars, wrecking her defenses.

With a nod, Ethan had decided to place a kiss on her forehead before heading out, respecting her choice. He didn't give up completely, but he respected her primary choice is Grayson at this particular time.

„You do know all those things you said on the beach are just a figment of your untamed imagination mixed with insecurities, right?“ He began, making her scoff.

„That's not an apology I hear, rather a start up for a new fight.“ She sent him a glare, one that meant he better stay in his position because if he came closer, she'd let her evil out.

„No. What I mean is, none of what you said is true. I never fell in love with your face, Caroline, although it's a very beautiful one. I never looked for body shapes – you've had them all. And yes, sometimes your personality is difficult to deal with, but I still loved you. I loved you because your soul is pure light that calls to me like a siren. If your soul hurts, I hurt. If your soul is happy, I'm happy. If you're feeling lost, I'm desperate. It's like two magnets, pushing and pulling in the need to be as one. Your beauty lies in the unchanging goodness of your soul and heart that can be a stubborn nightmare at times, but it never lessened the beauty. It never stopped calling out to me. I never stopped running to it when it did.“ Grayson sighed, deciding to be brave and step closer, brushing his knuckles over her cheekbone as she turned away from him.

But then she turned back, her eyes shooting up and connecting with his, her heart jumping out her chest with their proximity.

„I can't help but be insecure. You've known every dark, twisted, dusty part of my soul and you have so many memories with...me! But I don't remember most of them! It's like...Imagine if I dated a thousand versions of you and you didn't remember...It's silly, but I'm jealous and I'm bitter about not remembering. And I'm so pissed for being put in a position to be jealous and bitter about my own damn self.“ She stood up, stopping Grayson's breathing for the second time in a day, but this time she didn't try to kiss him anywhere close to his face. She just wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest.

„Just know I love you. Whatever happens, that can't change.“ She whispered, feeling him shift their weight as he laid her down on the bed, half his weight pinning her under but she didn't complain. She enjoyed feeling him on top of her, wanting not only a kiss anymore...she wanted him in every sinful way possible. She wanted to feel him around her, inside her, enveloping her entirely. She wanted to be his, just once in this damned life she was given. Just once.

However, without even knowing, she fell asleep to the sound beat of his heart, her mind in the gutter, but still on him.

The morning came too soon.

„Wake up, love birds. Time to do some time traveling! Curse breaking!“ Cameron clapped, ignoring the groans and grunts and their cutesy snuggling closer together. But even they knew it couldn't last, slowly getting up in silence, simply looking at one another. While Caroline was still convinced half the things Grayson told her last night were lies to make her feel better, she didn't care. She loved the way he lied, just as she loved him.

And she would fight for him.

Tags: @dancerwriter @peacedolantwins @heeydolan @accalialionheart @graydolan12 @xalayx @fallinginlove-16 @deeteeeeevee @heyits-claire @riverdalesserpent @dolandolll

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan angel au #grayson dolan au #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan demon au #ethan dolan au

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ninzied · 5 years

Text

another kind of goodbye

for @carry-the-sky. happy birthday, my friend! have a little post-cancellation kastle fic.

It’s three months, give or take, when Frank lets himself think about her again. Really think about her. Not in the passing kind of way, where he’s walking down some street and sees a bouquet of gardenias, like the kind he’d almost gotten her instead of the roses that day. Or when he’s sipping on coffee, and Karen’s face flashes like a mirage at him across the cheap Formica table – blonde hair almost white under the shit diner lighting, but those eyes still so blue as she told him he would never lie to her.

So – okay, so he thinks about her. He thinks about her.

(He wonders if she—)

Frank eventually makes his way back to the city again, after. Another day, another job. Madani thinks he’s meant for something greater than this – than picking off these scum-of-the-earth kinds of assholes that litter the streets of a place like New York.

He can’t believe that he was meant for greater, but. Sometimes, he does wonder. If a part of him – whatever part of him that’s not still buried deep down in the ground with his family – was meant to come back here. To walk these streets and feel the pull of her, always, even when that’s all he can afford to feel.

He tells himself that has to be enough.

He’s been laying low, since his return. Coughed up some cash for a three-hundred-square-footer in Brooklyn, but he crosses the bridge to the city most days, maybe even finds his way to Hell’s Kitchen from time to time too. It’s risky, he knows. If Murdock catches wind of him, they’d be lucky to walk away from each other in one piece. And Karen…

There’d be a different kind of hell to pay, if Karen ever found out.

His phone gives a single buzz in his pocket as he’s hunkering his way down 47th, and he stops in his tracks, nearly colliding with an elderly woman in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Excuse me!” she says in a shrill voice, bag clutched tight to her chest.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he nods as she makes a show of putting as much distance between them as possible, and then he fishes his phone out, hesitating for one absurd moment before glancing down at the screen.

Back in town yet, Castle?

He barks out a laugh. Chrissakes, Madani.

His phone buzzes again.

I have a job for you, if you’re still interested.

“Still,” mutters Frank, with a scoffing shake of his head. He thinks he admires her perseverance, but Madani’s gotta know she’s only wasting her breath.

He cuts south down 10th, toward Lincoln Tunnel. It’s a brisk day, and the wind on his face feels sharper than usual, considering he hasn’t bled much there in a while. He jams his hands deeper into his pockets, ignoring the insistent drone of Madani’s follow-up call.

He’s got a date with a park bench on the wrong side of town, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s the same bridge overlooking the water, and when he opens them again Karen’ll be there, waiting for him.

…

His closest call comes with, of all people, the lawyer. Not Red – the other one. Franklin Nelson.

Frank’s emerging with coffee two storefronts down just as another door opens, and he’s cursing himself for not seeing the signs when out tumbles Nelson with his back turned, adjusting his tie against the wind.

“Foggy bear, wait!” someone else is laughing, and a blonde lady steps out to chase after him, slinging a purse over her shoulder and reaching with her other hand to link around his elbow.

“I told him this was gonna make me late for work,” grumbles Nelson, but without any heat to the words. “Dad’s surprise party isn’t until tomorrow, don’t know why this couldn’t have waited – oh, crap, I forgot I told Karen I’d pick up some coffee—”

Nelson’s about-facing sharply, girlfriend following closely behind. He doesn’t appear to notice Frank crouched down in a corner by the 7-Eleven, hood obscuring half his face as he trains his eyes on the ground by their feet. The girl unearths some coins from her bag as they pass, clinking them onto the lid of Frank’s coffee cup without seeming to hear his low mutter of thanks.

He’s leapt up the moment he hears the door latch shut, brushing the coins into his palm as he goes.

He leaves them with a guy camped out by the train stop, a dog lifting her head from their blankets to blink sleepy eyes up at Frank, and he walks away harder, takes the steps two at a time and wishes – God he wishes—

…

Another text from Madani.

He shuts his phone off. Goes back to retrieve it ten seconds later from the trash can that he’d dumped it in, wiping it down and scowling as her message pops up on the screen.

Castle – offer still stands, FYI.

“You should call her back,” advises a man huddled down by the newsstands next to him. His face is like leather, worn down and weathered with age, with living. “Apologize for whatever it is that you did, so you don’t end up out here like me.”

“Already there,” Frank tells him, turning the phone over and over in his hand. Madani’s message lights up again each time, flashing and flashing until he sees it like a burn through his retinas even when the phone’s no longer facing him.

“Damn. That’s a damn shame.” The guy shifts, scratching at a spot on his back. “Maybe shouldn’t’ve stayed away from her for so long.”

Frank shakes his head, uttering a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, maybe I got my reasons, yeah? You think about that?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” shrugs the guy. “Does she think they’re any good? These reasons of yours?”

Frank turns away, jaw working furiously.

“Yeah.” The guy shouldn’t have any right to sound as smug as he does, and yet. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

…

He’s got no place in coming here. He knows it. He knows it, but he thinks it was always meant to be this way, him circling back around to her, even after everything that he’s done to push her away. Maybe a part of him had never left. And the rest is just – there, hovering right at the edge of some sharp realization, that he could try to be whole again if he simply took that first step. And a part of Karen must at least sense that. It’s why she’d never really given up on him, before.

It doesn’t change how I feel about you.

Frank wonders if she’d forgive him this time. If he’d even want her to.

It wouldn’t be anything close to what he deserves, that’s for goddamn sure.

He gazes up at her fire escape, counts the number of steps it would take just to be able to reach that bottom rung from his vantage point across the street. Her shades are drawn, the lines of them blurred out in the dim orange light. On one corner of the windowsill, wedged up against the glass, there’s a small stack of books. On the other, a vase. From this angle, the shadows folded into the fabric of her curtains look almost like flower stems.

Frank squints, and the stems disappear.

…

There’s about a week in between, where he feels himself inching closer to something, each time he drops by her block. He never goes farther than the patch of sidewalk across from her building, but it’s getting harder not to just careen over the ledge.

More than anything, he wishes he knew, in those moments obscured in half-darkness, whether he’s come to look for that after she’d spoke of, or if he’s come to say goodbye.

Then, one day he spots flowers in her window, for the first time since—

(They’re pale white against the cream of her curtains, their stems dark slivers of green, and he imagines them pricking the pad of his thumb, drawing up a spot of blood.)

Frank takes a deep breath.

…

She doesn’t look surprised to see him when she opens the door, swinging it back two-thirds of the way before stopping. Her lips are pressed tightly together, like there’s too much to say, or maybe there’s things that she can’t, either way he can’t read her and he thinks she’s never terrified him more.

Frank drops his gaze, mouth moving soundlessly until the words grind their way out. “How’d you know I was here, Karen?”

He’s not sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. That Nelson had grown a real pair of eyes, or that Red had managed to ferret him out of his lurking somehow. Or maybe Karen really just hadn’t known at all, and those flowers were never for him.

What Karen says instead is, “Dinah and I grab a beer together, sometimes.”

“That right?” he asks, trying to lay out an image of this in his mind. It sits strangely there, stumping him for a moment, and some of his bewilderment must show on his face because Karen’s mouth almost turns up in a smile before flattening again.

She leans away from the doorjamb, waving her hand in a worn-looking gesture before letting it drop to her side. “Besides, you…haven’t exactly been subtle, in your haunting of Hell’s Kitchen.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, other than a gruff, “’S’what dead men do, Karen,” as she folds her arms and sighs at him.

“You sure you’re not just losing your touch, Frank?” She steps into the doorway, whether to move closer to him or to block him out of her apartment, he can’t tell. “Or was it because you wanted me to know but couldn’t tell me to my face?”

His eyes snap up to hers, twitching slightly under the sharp weight of her gaze. He shakes his head, wishing he could just ask her, What do you want from me, Karen? but they’re long past that now, and if he can’t find his own way to answer her, then.

God, he really doesn’t deserve this woman.

“I think I—” He shifts his body and tries again. “I think I needed to figure some things out. Karen. I was waiting 'til I felt like I was ready, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that.” But I’m here, he wants to say, but I’m here.

“Yeah.” Karen’s nodding, hair falling into her face, and she brushes it back, resting her chin in her palm for a moment. “I know that, Frank.” All of the fight in her seems to have ebbed slowly back, and he resists the urge to reach out and shake the storm back into motion, to make her understand she doesn’t get to let him off the hook so easy.

The look she gives him now is softer, but he knows. Fight’s not done. May never be done. And he knows this because he knows he’ll never stop fighting for her.

She’s stepped back into the door, letting it swing open further. She doesn’t invite him in, but she’s quirked an eyebrow up at him, biting her lip with another deep sigh and a shake of her head.

“You, uh.” Frank glances back and forth at their surroundings, doesn’t quite meet her eye. Tries to lighten his tone through the gruffness as he asks her, “So, you wanted to see me?”

Her voice is soft, forbearing, with a hint of gentle knowing behind it. “You didn’t?”

She’s holding back the clear start of a smile from him this time, and Frank. Christ. It’s taking everything in him not to step toward her, to—

Karen tilts her chin at him, the motion loosening another wave of blonde hair, and he can’t remember anymore why he was trying so hard to stand back from all this. He’s moving, swaying forward until she’s just an arm’s length away, and there’s something almost teasing about the way she relaxes her shoulder into the door as she watches him.

“You back to kill some people, Frank?”

He feels a corner of his mouth turn up. This girl. He licks his lips, lets out a quiet sort of laugh. “That was the plan, yeah.”

Karen gazes up at him, unblinking. “Have you?”

“I was—” Frank has to look away for a moment, finally turning back when he can. His eyes are steady, boring into hers, voice low and full with meaning. “I was. Working on it.”

Karen nods. Doesn’t speak for long seconds, and he measures them out in heartbeats, chest tightening hard enough it feels like it might break when she asks him, very carefully, “Still?”

Frank steps closer, close enough to feel the way her breath shakes with a small sigh, how her body moves away from the door to meet him.

His hand is inches from hers, but he doesn’t reach for her. Not yet.

She waits, gaze searching. He gives the barest shake of his head, and a single word, gravel-filled, a promise. “No.”

Something cracks open in her expression, and it means everything to him, her head ducking away as though she can’t have him looking too closely at the way she's biting back that smile of hers, and he thinks – he thinks he wants to make her do it again, and again, for as long as she will have him.

“Would you like to come in, Frank?”

He takes her hand in his this time, feeling the pull of her as he steps across the threshold, door shutting firmly behind them, and it feels like coming home.

#kastle #kastleff #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily #happy belated birthday haley!!!!!!#sorry for the unpolishedness #i may go back and edit it up a bit later lol #but i wanted to have something for you because you've been so lovely and welcoming!#i can't thank you enough!

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igottoomuchwriting · 5 years

Text

For Forever Chapter 2

Series: First Part/Previous Chapter/Next Part

Connor Murphy: i stg if this mom doesnt chill tf out i will find where she lives and fight her

It has been a month since Connor and Evan started talking. At first, it was awkward, but slowly they broke the barrier through text messages and small conversations during English. Slowly they were learning more and more about each other.

Connor loved to read. Any book that they read as a class, Connor loved, even if it was an older one that everyone else thought was boring. One day in English, Connor had overheard a kid talking about how much they hated Pride and Prejudice and Connor started whispering to Evan about how the kid didn’t no good literature, how Lizzy was a feminist icon of the time, Darcy was the best boy and the romance was correctly written and “he was just pissy because he is a fucking white boy that doesn’t understand the hardships that women of those days have had to go through!”

He also loved TLC shows, especially Say Yes To The Dress. That was a shock to Evan, but Connor was talking about different dress one day and Evan was curious on how he knew. Connor was nervous to share, but he knew that he could trust Evan.

That’s what he was texting Evan about now. Hulu had put out new episodes and Connor was watching them while live texting Evan about everything that is going on.

Connor Murphy: SHES CRYING NOW AND THE MOM STILL WONT BUDGE

Connor Murphy: thats it

Connor Murphy: im flying to georiga. Ill see you later evan

Evan Hansen: I know you have that ability so please dont

Connor Murphy: like my parents would let me

Evan Hansen: Find something nice in Georgia that your mom would love to see. I’m sure that will get her going

Connor Murphy: well which is it hansen

Connor Murphy: should i go punch this lady in the face or no

Evan Hansen: Definite no

Evan never really was interested in those shows, but he did watch one episode to see what he loved so much about it. It was a good show, and he really did love Randy and most of the brides that came through the shop. His mom had walked in when he had it on the TV, which sparked a conversation of how they were and who Evan liked.

“You know this is a safe place, honey!” Heidi had cooed.

“I know,” Evan mumbled, looking down at the ground awkwardly.

Since then, he’s been trying to pointedly show that he likes girls, and only girls.

Connor Murphy: oh good the bride won

Evan Hansen: With Randy on her side, how could she not

Connor Murphy: true

Connor Murphy: shit

Connor Murphy: my mom is home

Connor Murphy: i have to go to my bed and pretend to get some sleep

Connor Murphy: night

Evan Hansen: Goodnight

Evan decided that he should probably go to bed too. He had a test tomorrow, and he needed to sleep so he wouldn’t freak out as much when the time came.

He quickly turned off the TV and headed back up to his room.

---

Evan did not get any sleep. Right as he was about to fall asleep, his mom came home. Since he was still delirious, he thought it was a burglar. Suddenly he was awake and on alert, ready to do what he needed to.

Without getting out of bed and drawing attention to himself, of course.

He stumbled off of the bus, shoulders slouched over and tired look in his eyes. His classmates shoved past him in a hurry to get to the cafeteria for breakfast, but Evan just slowly made his way to his locker.

“Acorn!” he heard Jared call. Evan turned around to see Jared walking towards him, same amount of confidence in his walk as he always had. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, so Evan assumed that his first period teacher is either late or has a sub who is late.

“Please don’t call me that,” Evan mumbled.

“Aw, come on! It’s a term of endearment. All fun and games, ya know?” He threw his arm over Evan’s shoulder and they continued the walk to their locker. “It’s a playful jab at a silly mistake you made.”

Evan’s hand shot to his cast, holding onto it gently.

Yeah. A silly mistake.

“I’m gonna come over today after school. My mom’s been wondering why we haven’t been hanging out lately.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“You still got Mario Kart, right?” Evan nodded his head. It was the last gift his dad had gotten him before he left, and even though Evan is not fond of his dad, he still tries to hang on to when life was good.

“Cool! Then we can play that today!” Evan just nodded his head again and opened up his locker. Jared continued to talk about a girl--or the same girl that he met over the summer, he doesn’t know anymore--and Evan turned his head to the side to see Connor at his locker. He was slouched over and seemed to be angrily putting stuff into his backpack.

“Sorry, uh,” Evan spoke, interrupting Jared’s sentence, “I’m gonna go talk to Connor.”

“Really?” Jared turned to look at Connor as threw a book into his locker. He flinched. “I don’t think you wanna talk to that dude right now. He seems like he is in a bad mood.”

“That’s why I wanna, um, talk to him.” He started playing with the bottom of his t-shirt. “I want to see if he’s okay.”

“Your funeral, man,” he said with a shrug. He gave Evan one last violent pat on his shoulder before walking away.

Evan closed his locker and took a deep breath. Connor hasn’t been in a super bad mood since they started talking, so Evan was worried if Connor would even want to talk to him or not.

“Hey Connor,” he mumbled. Connor whipped his head around and shot a glare at Evan.

“What?” he snapped. Evan took a step back and looked down at the ground.

“Well you seem like you’re in a bad mood so I wanted to come over and see if you’re okay but you barely know me so I don’t know why you would even want to talk to me about it. I’m sorry I should’ve have even come over, I’ll leave, I’m sorry,” Evan stuttered out. All his words started blending together and he was stumbling over his words.

Connor sighed and hit his head against the top of the locker.

“No, I didn’t mean to snap at you. You did nothing wrong.” Evan glanced up at him before looking back down.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he mumbled. Connor was silent for a moment. Evan was just about to turn around and leave him alone when he started talking.

“My parents took my fucking phone last night because they didn’t believe that I was texting someone other than a fucking drug dealer. I told them that no goddamn drug dealer would be answering fucking calls at that hour because they were trying to act like normal fucking people but they took my phone anyway!” He slammed his locker closed and Evan jumped. “They don’t believe a fucking thing I say and it pisses me off because I was actually telling the truth this time!”

Evan looked around the hallway and saw people giving Connor both confused and dirty looks. He didn't know what to do. Jared never came to him for emotional things, and since Jared has been his only friend growing up, he never had anyone else come to him for anything. The closest that he has come to comforting someone was when he walked in on his mom having a breakdown, but even then she turned it around and made sure that he was okay.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That’s--That, um, sucks.”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Connor grumbled.

The first bell rang, signaling that students have five minutes to get to class. Connor turned towards the doors at the end of the hallway.

“Wait, where are you going?” Evan anxiously called.

“Anywhere but fucking here.” With that, he was gone.

Evan watched Connor’s dark figure disappear around the corner outside, wondering if he should tell someone. What was Connor going to do? Would he hurt someone?

Would he hurt himself?

“Get to class, Mr. Hansen!” Evan heard a teacher call. Evan looked behind him to see Ms. Asher--the English teacher that no one liked--raising an eyebrow at him. Saying nothing, Evan moved on to his first class.

---

Evan hasn’t seen Connor all day. It was lunch time now and the boy still wasn’t here. Since they started talking more, he and Connor started sitting together at lunch. Connor never ate anything, and Evan did try, but sometimes his anxiety became too much and he just couldn’t stomach what the school was giving him. During those days, Connor tried his best to calm Evan down enough to where he would get Evan to each at least some bland tater tots.

That wasn’t the case today. He sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria, untouched food in front of him.

It’s not like he wasn’t used to this. Jared would never sit by him, always opting to work on programming by himself and not be seen with Evan, and since he had no other friends, he was pushed to the corner of the room.

Evan was deep in thought when he heard a voice.

“Evan Hansen?” Evan snapped his head up, only to freeze when he saw Zoe Murphy standing there, kind smile on her face.

“Oh, uh, yeah. That’s me,” he stuttered out. How long has she been standing there? Was she just waiting for Evan to notice her?

“Sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a question?” Oh okay, straight to the point. Evan wiped his palms on his jeans.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

“Are you and my brother friends?” That’s not what he was expecting.

Are they friends? He doesn’t know if Connor considers Evan a friend, but does Evan?

“Uh, yeah,” he drew out. “Yeah, I guess.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She looked around the lunch room before sitting down across from Evan.

Oh God.

“Do you guys text?”

“Yeah, why?” Did something happen? Why would she need to know if they texted?

“Were you guys texting last night?”

“Yes?” Evan was about to have an anxiety attack. Did Connor tell her? Did Connor spill everything that Evan told him? Is Zoe making sure that this is the Evan Hansen that he is talking to so that she can go around and tell everyone?

“Okay,” she mumbled. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for asking these questions, but Connor got his phone taken away yesterday and my parents wanted to see if who he was texting went to our school.”

“Oh.” Great, so Connor’s parents read their text messages? There was private stuff in there. He hasn’t even met these people and they already know his fears? Did Connor delete the texts he sent when he was having a mental breakdown?

“I haven’t seen the messages!” she quickly added. “My parents only asked if I knew the name ‘Evan Hansen’ and so I wanted to make sure it was you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled. They sat in a silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

Zoe broke the silence.

“When did you two start talking?” The questions continue.

“About a month ago?”

“Why?” Well that’s not going to be shared. How would Evan even say that? Yeah, you’re brother stole something of mine and flipped out on me but I was able to calm him down and get it back and now we are basically becoming best buds!

No.

“He, uh, wanted to apologize for getting mad at me in the hallway on the first day of school.” That was kind of the truth.

“And you guys kept talking because…?”

“He was nice.” Zoe immediately rolled her eyes. Oh no. Did he say something wrong?

“He’s not nice, Evan.”

“Wh-What?”

“He’s a druggie who will turn on you when you make one little mistake.” Evan stared at Zoe in disbelief. Here is Connor’s sister, who is known for being happy and helping others, staring at Evan with an angry look in her eye. She’s spending her time, giving Evan a warning.

“He--I don’t think--would he really?”

“He’s done it to me countless times.” Before Evan could say anything else, she stood up. “I’m not telling you what you should do. I’m just warning you that my brother is a loose canon.” With that, she left.

Evan stared at the spot she had just occupied. Zoe has obviously been with Connor her whole life and she knows more than Evan. If she is giving him a warning, he should listen.

Shouldn’t he?

---

When it was sixth period, Evan didn’t know what to do. Surprisingly, he didn’t have any homework to do for that day. He didn’t want to write a letter to his therapist either, as the only thing that happened today was talking to Zoe.

He decided to walk home. It was the last period of the day, and no one was going to be waiting for him. He also wanted to make sure his house was clean before Jared came over.

Evan didn’t get far off of campus before a truck pulled up next to him. With his headphones in, he didn’t hear the driver call out to him. He did hear the car horn, however.

He whipped his head to see Connor sitting in the truck, looking at him threw the passenger window. He quickly pulled out his headphones.

“Connor?” he asked.

“Get in, Hansen.” Evan didn’t question, he just walked across the grass dividing the street and the sidewalk and into Connor’s car.

Connor pulled out into the road before Evan could buckle his seatbelt fully.

It was silent between the two. Evan wanted to know where Connor went in the beginning of the day, if he was doing better, if he was okay in general.

“I didn’t mean to flip out on you earlier,” Connor stated.

“I know,” Evan mumbled. It was silent again. You would think after talking for a month, they would be a little better at talking to each other.

Evan watched all the trees go by. The radio was playing in the background, and the sky was blue with only a few clouds. Always a little strange for October weather.

“Have you ever been to the orchard?” Connor asked. Evan shot him a confused look.

“What orchard?”

“So I’ll take that as a no.”

“Where is it?” Evan asked.

“Well, it’s closed now, but it was almost like a forest reserve for people to go to. You could have picnics, there was a creek, all that fun stuff.” Evan hummed.

The rest of the car ride was filled with small talk. At some point, they had gotten onto the topic of bands they liked, and it blew up from there.

“You’ve never heard of Hollywood Undead?” Connor laughed. “How the fuck have you not?”

“They’re not a very popular band, obviously,” Evan shot back. Connor turned to him with a look as if he had personally attacked Connor’s work himself.

“They are popular!”

“Sure, Connor.”

“You shut the fuck up, Mr. ‘Taylor Swift is a better country singer than pop’.”

“Well, she is--”

“You have no taste.”

It wasn’t long before they reached where Connor was taking them. Evan looked around as Connor turned off the car and saw trees everywhere, as well as a gate with a sign that said “NO TRESPASSING”.

“Uh, what are we, uh, doing here?” Evan asked.

“We’re gonna walk around.”

“W-Wait, what?”

“Come on, Hansen,” Connor called, ignoring the panic rising in the boy. He hopped out of the car and Evan quickly followed, leaving his backpack in the car.

“We can’t go in!” he called out. Connor rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, it’s fine.”

“What if someone finds us? What if they see your car and come searching and then we get in trouble? What if we get arrested? I can’t have my mom bail me out of jail, and your parents won’t--”

“Evan!” Connor yelled. Evan immediately stopped talking. “It’s fine. I come here all the time. I was just here earlier, and no one found me. No one even thinks about this place anymore.”

Evan nodded his head in understanding and looked down at the ground. He heard Connor take a deep breath.

“Just… Come on. You can trust me.”

Evan followed Connor to the fence. Right under the trespassing sign was a cut part of the fence that looked like it was able to be pushed back. Connor pushed the fence piece back and held it open, motioning for Evan to make his way through.

Evan made it on the other side, careful with his cast, and Connor followed suit. Evan looked around in amazement. How come this place was abandoned?

“This place got closed down after they opened up the park as a national park,” Connor answered his unasked question. “Apparently people feel like going to a national park would be more fun than an orchard, even though it’s the same fucking thing.”

Connor stared walking into the trees and Evan was quick to follow.

It was gorgeous. It was a surprise that he has never seen this place. His mom and dad would always love to take them out and show him the nature, the flowers, the birds. It was a big part of his life, and a big reason why he loved trees. Participating in the Junior Ranger program was a way for him to try and go back to those times.

Happier times.

“So homecoming’s coming up,” Connor stated. “You going?”

“Well, uh, probably not?” Those kind of things were never Evan’s thing.

“Even if a cute girl asked you out?” Connor laughed as Evan blushed. The only girl Evan would even want to ask him out is Zoe, but after their conversation, he has been questioning his relationship with her.

“If someone asked me out, that’d be a shock in itself.”

Connor laughed. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” Evan asked. “You going?”

“No. No way.”

“Not even if a girl asks you?”

“There’s no girl that could make me go to any dance.” Evan hummed.

“What if your crush asked you? There is a girl you like, right?” Connor gave him a side look and coughed.

“Yeah. A girl…” He didn’t say anything after, and Evan didn’t want to push it, so they fell back into silence.

“We’re here.” Evan gave him a confused look.

“Wait, where?”

“Look.” Evan looked anxiously at the space past the trees Connor motioned to before walking forward.

Past the trees was a big open grass field, surrounded by trees. The wind was blowing the long grass gently and the sun was peeking out from behind the threes, just getting ready to set for the night.

Evan was in shock. This place was gorgeous.

“I assume you like it?” he heard Connor call.

Evan shook his head. “Connor, this--this is amazing! How did you find it?”

“I was just walking around one day and stumbled upon it.”

Evan stared at the whole place. Connor watched him with a smile.

“You said you like to climb trees, right?” Connor asked. Evan stiffened up.

“Um, yeah,” he stuttered out.

“Come on. There’s a tree with really low branches.” Connor started walking away towards a tree that Evan saw stuck out from the rest. It was slightly out of the circle of trees, and Evan understood why Connor chose that one. The branches are definitely lower than the others, and easier for the boys to reach.

“I--I don’t think I can climb right now,” Evan called towards him. Connor turned and gave him a confused look.

“Why not?” Evan just held up his cast. Connor looked at for a second before realization hit. “Fuck, that’s right. I’m a fucking moron.”

“Sorry,” Evan shrugged.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You wanted to climb the tree, and I can’t.” Connor sighed and shook his head.

“That’s not your fault, man.” Evan nodded his head and decided not to say anything else.

His phones started buzzing in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out to see who is was.

It was Jared.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. Connor was next to him now, looking down at his phone.

“Kleinman? What does that fucker want?” Evan opted to not comment on Connor’s obvious hatred of Jared.

“I forgot I was supposed to hang out with him today.” He hit answer and turned away.

“Evan! Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, I was walking home but Connor wanted to hang out--”

“Connor? Connor Murphy? You’re with him right now?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am headed back right now--”

“Did he kidnap you or something, dude? You guys never hang out outside of school. I never even thought the guy was stable enough to do something.”

Evan anxiously shot a look at Connor, but he was picking at his nail polish, so Evan was sure he didn’t hear Jared.

“He can. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’m heading back now. Just go inside, I’ll be home soon, ignore the mess.”

“Whatever you say dude. Bye.”

With that, Jared hung up. Evan turned back to Connor, fiddling with his phone.

“I’m sorry Connor, can we--”

“Yeah, we can go back.” Connor clipped. Evan flinched. He looked down at the ground anxiously.

“Sorry, this was fun, but--”

“I know,” Connor forced a smile across his face. “You and Jared had plans. Nothing wrong with that.”

Connor started walking away, and Evan couldn’t help but get the feeling that Connor was truly upset.

He quickly followed Connor back to his car and tired to calm down his anxiety.

“Thank you for taking me here,” Evan said when they got back into Connor’s truck.

“Yeah. We can come back.” Evan looked down to hide a smile.

Connor actually wanted to hang out with him again. Hang out, in public, for no reason other than to hang out with Evan.

Is this was real friendship is like?

#dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #zoe murphy #jared kleinman #evan hansen x connor murphy #tree bros #writing #sun writing

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fallout4holmes · 5 years

Text

Journal 37

The scientists did excellent work; Valentine made the trip north without complaint or further mechanical failure. We stopped by Jamaica Plain again to stay the night with the Lockheeds, and left early for Diamond City.

Gunshots and shouting drew our attention midway to our destination, near a radio tower. A trade caravan had run into a pair of yao guai. One of the guards was mauled while his fellows unsuccessfully tried to intervene. Danse charged the first while Valentine and I assisted with the second beast. A rifle fired and the mutated bear fell, a bullet through its eye.

We looked around, surprised, and three shots from the hidden rifleman crippled one of the rear legs of Danse's opponent, allowing the soldier to easily finish it off. Danse stepped out of the way as the other members of the caravan hurried to the fallen guard's side. “He's alive, but gravely wounded,” Danse said.

“Can he make it to Diamond City?” Valentine asked.

The caravan leader sighed heavily, “It'll be close. Stimpak'll help, but I don't know… oh!” He was startled as he looked at the man addressing him. “Uh,” he looked at me, “thanks for the hand?”

“You're welcome,” I said, and introduced us, “This is my partner Nick Valentine, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and the man in power armor is the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen -”

“Boss?” a familiar voice called from behind a tree a short distance away.

I turned and saw a young man in a green cap and ragged duster holding a sniper rifle, ammunition belt strapped to his thigh. Seeing that Danse had taken over discussion with the caravan leader, I moved toward the sniper. “MacCready?”

He gestured to a small boy behind him, no more than five years old. The boy clutched his hand tight as they came forward. The boy's clothes hung loose on his thin frame, his light brown hair and blue eyes a perfect copy of his father. “Mr. Holmes, it's good to see you,” said MacCready.

“And you, Mr. MacCready. Is this who I think it is?”

He grinned, proud, “Yeah. This is my son, Duncan.” He said to his son, “This is Mr. Holmes, he's one of the people who helped me find your medicine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, young man,” I smiled. He seemed inclined to come out of his shell for a moment, but quickly hid behind his father with wide eyes as he stared behind me. “Oh, this is my friend,” I reassured him. “His name is Nick Valentine.”

“Nick helped find your medicine too,” MacCready said, “He's not like the other ones.”

Valentine’s brow rose, “Other ones?”

“We ran into some of your cousins,” MacCready said. “Blue lasers and shi- stuff. No fashion sense.”

“Institute leftovers,” Valentine frowned. Then he knelt down and spoke gently to Duncan, “I know I look kinda scary, but you've got nothin’ to worry about from this old synth.”

Duncan was doubtful.

“The injured guard is secured for travel,” Danse reported. “We should keep moving.”

The caravan was happy to have extra guns and welcomed my friends and I, even if Valentine received a few suspicious glances. MacCready had signed on as a guard for the caps, thinking he would need all he could get to start a new life for him and his son wherever they ended up. He’d come back to the Commonwealth because the Capital Wasteland held nothing for him but memories, or so he said. I personally believe he came back because the Commonwealth held an opportunity to start over and be the sort of man his wife always knew he was. Whether or not he takes that opportunity remains to be seen.

Diamond City welcomed us home with Dogmeat's excited howl and Shaun running out of the house, overjoyed to see us. “Dad! Nick! Are you fixed?”

“Not all the way,” Valentine said with more good humor than I would have been capable of, “but we know someone who should be able to take care of the rest.”

I asked Valentine and Danse to take Shaun back inside while I made sure the caravan guard was seen to by Dr. Sun. Then I asked MacCready if he cared to stay the night while I tried to find a more permanent solution for him.

“Got room for all of us?” he asked.

“There's a spare bed in the Agency if necessary.”

Shaun came running back out of the house, “Nick said your friend and his son can stay and I should come out and meet Duncan?”

I laughed, “MacCready, this is my son Shaun. Shaun, this is Mr. MacCready and his son, Duncan.”

“You can skip the 'mister,’ kid,” MacCready smiled. “Duncan's kind of shy.”

“That's ok,” Shaun bent over a little to speak to the younger child, “Diamond City is a lot, but you get used to it. Do you want to see my toy car?”

Duncan's face lit up, “Yeah!” Shaun took his hand and led him into the house.

MacCready was amazed. “I guess we can stay for a little while.” He spoke briefly with the caravan leader, and joined me inside.

Shaun was marvelous with Duncan, playing gently and patiently. Valentine later confessed he'd warned Shaun that Duncan was only half Shaun's age and had recently recovered from a harsh illness. The chance to play was clearly good for Duncan’s spirits as well.

Codsworth recognized our guest, “Mr. MacCready, wasn't it? I hope your business with my master from your last visit was successfully resolved?”

“You saw him,” MacCready gestured to where the boys were playing upstairs.

“Oh of course! He seems a fine young man, and it is wonderful for young Master Shaun to meet someone younger than himself. Can I provide anything, sir?”

“Nah, I'm good right now, but thanks.”

Danse joined us after seeing to his armor in the workshop, “How do you and Holmes know each other?”

“I hired him in Goodneighbor, only to discover he required my services more than I required his,” I said. Valentine's brow rose slightly at my interception of the question, but he said nothing.

“I owe Holmes a lot,” MacCready said. “Without his help, Duncan wouldn't be here.”

“Danse, you wouldn't happen to know of a settlement in need of a sniper with room for a growing young boy, would you?” I asked.

Danse didn't like the fact that we hadn't fully answered his question, but he didn't pursue further details at that moment. “There have been reports from Finch Farm that the Forged are becoming active again. They might be able to accommodate. Or County Crossing and Somerville could both use an extra pair of eyes against recent super mutant activity.”

“No shortage of choices,” I said to MacCready. “We're headed to Sanctuary tomorrow, you should come. It's where all the new Minutemen recruits begin their training.”

He made a face, “I appreciate the hand, boss, and I'd be happy to give it a look, but I gotta finish this job first. I said I'd go with the caravan all the way, so I will. That was the deal. Besides, the Minutemen might be a good idea, but I'm… more of a freelance sort of guy.”

“You're a mercenary,” Danse didn't quite roll his eyes, though he clearly wanted to.

“That's right,” MacCready challenged. “And you won't find a better shot for your caps. Been handling a rifle since I was a kid.”

One of the caravan guards knocked on my door. MacCready could stay behind and get a quarter of the promised pay, or finish the job and receive one and a half times his pay to compensate for extra work now that they had an injured guard. Some minimal haggling followed, more out of tradition than anything else, but the terms remained unchanged and MacCready said he'd meet them at the entrance.

Duncan was disappointed he had to leave, but refused to stay behind without his father. MacCready promised him that he'd see Shaun again. Codsworth gave Duncan a small pack of bottled water and fruit for the road, and they took their leave.

The door closed behind them, and Danse looked at me, “May I ask why you required the services of a mercenary?”

I was dismissive, “I was bored, it was not one of my better moments.”

“Not sure 'bored’ does it justice,” Valentine muttered.

Shaun sat next to Valentine at the table, “I liked Duncan, he was nice. He told me he and his dad are from the Capital Wasteland, a long way from here. He said it's a lot different than the Commonwealth. That's where you're from, isn't it Danse?”

Danse nodded once, Shaun's enthusiasm drawing a slight smile, “Yes. He's right; it is very different.”

Dogmeat, seeing Shaun's attention was no longer focused on his guest, walked up and put his head in Shaun's lap. Shaun scratched behind Dogmeat's ears and said, “Wanna run the bases?” Dogmeat barked, and Shaun leaped off the chair to hurry outside, “We'll be right back!”

Valentine and I shared a smile. “A boy and his dog,” Valentine chuckled.

“His energy is boundless,” I said, a bit astonished.

“Takes after his father on a good day, if I may say so, sir,” Codsworth said.

I was a bit affronted, “A good day?”

Valentine laughed, “I couldn't agree more. Danse, stop standing there glowering. Soon as Shaun gets back, we can tell him about the trip to Sanctuary. You sure you don’t want to wait here for Preston to join you instead of heading west just to go east again?”

Danse shook his head, “I recognize you’re functioning somewhat normally, but I would prefer to personally see all of you to Sanctuary safely rather than stay behind with nothing to do.”

“You’re worried I’m not gonna make it, and you don’t want to be bored out of your mind sitting around here,” Valentine summarized with a grin.

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Sure did,” Valentine lit a cigarette and tossed the pack to me. “Just makin’ sure I heard right.”

We didn’t waste any time. Valentine and I reported to Ellie, who naturally demanded the full story of the trip to Murkwater and the plan to help Valentine. She is very worried about her friend and employer, but put on a brave face and wished us luck with the best optimism. Danse needn’t have worried about Valentine breaking down on the way to Sanctuary, but I was glad for his assistance in safely escorting my family.

Sanctuary continues to thrive as the Minutemen grow in number. Valentine saw to getting Shaun settled in while I spoke to Preston and Danse. As I expected, both men were more than willing to do their best, and were attentive as I outlined what they should expect from the island’s unique residents. Shaun was ecstatic when we told him we were going to Sanctuary for an extended visit, though he was almost more fascinated by the mysterious island from whence his second father’s help would come… hopefully. Danse has no doubt become something of a knight in shining armor in Shaun’s imagination the next few weeks. With luck, he and Preston can coax a wizard from his cave.

#danse #maccready #nick valentine #fan fiction #fallout 4 #sherlock holmes #crossover

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flwrpotts · 6 years

Note

71 & 89 ❤❤❤

hi angel!! this is definitely incredibly not what you wanted but like, here we are! warning: major character death

71. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”

89. “You’re the best part of me.”

i lit you a candle in every cathedral across europe/

and i hope you know you’re still my patron saint/

- cigarettes and saint, the wonder years

Illness is a tired story, an old, familiar kind of grief, lingering at the edges of every family history. And yet, it still sneaks up on Jughead, takes him by surprise. He’d thought he’d finally reached the soft epilogue to the story, the one where he and Betty lived and grew old and learned how to be better parents than theirs were.

Betty is nine months shy of her thirtieth birthday when the fatigue starts, a constant exhaustion that leaves her drifting off to sleep at the dinner table, or in the middle of one of Rosalind’s digressive six year old stories

Jughead teases her about it at first, fond remarks about sleepless nights, or about them getting old. There’s a small, sneaking hope there too: after all, she was exhausted the first trimester she was pregnant with Rosalind, and with Lucy. He thinks it might be nice, to have one more baby, maybe a boy this time.

He’s going to mention it as they’re getting ready for bed one evening, peeling back the covers with the sort of in sync, domestic bliss he had spent years only dreaming of. He rolls over to face her, the sentence stacked up on his tongue, and she passes him a negative pregnancy test, her eyes luminous and shiny with unshed tears.

“I’ve just been so tired lately. I thought maybe…” she explains with a sort of half shrug that would be self-deprecating, if it weren’t so sad.

Jughead gathers her up in his arms without hesitation, pressing kisses into the fine blonde hair at her temple.

“It’s alright, Betts,” he says. “We’re still young. We’ll have a hundred more babies, if that’s what you want. A whole house full of them.”

She laughs a little through her tears, the sound muffled in the collar of his shirt. “You promise?” she asks, voice a little unsteady.

“Promise,” he says, and it doesn’t occur to him that it’s another thing he’s broken until much, much later.

The hope for another kid blisters and pops quickly, replaced by an aching pain that leaves Betty twisting and turning in bed at night, unable to sleep. She loses weight quickly, too, pastel sweaters hanging off her frame and cheekbones much sharper than they used to be.

“I’m fine, Juggie” she protests every time he mentions it. “Just getting old, that’s all.”

Twenty nine is not old he wants to protest and doesn’t, not until the day that Lucy throws her four year old body into Betty’s for a hug and Betty starts in pain, flinching back before she can stop herself.

Veronica and Archie babysit the kids while they go to the doctor’s office on a Monday afternoon. Summer is just beginning to burst into all its splendor, and they hold hands as they walk down the street of New York City, chatting idly about an article in the New Yorker and what to cook for dinner.

The doctor asks questions and runs tests, x-raying the point on Betty’s hip at which the pain is most sharp, and Jughead’s worry is a nebulous, undefined thing until the doctor’s referral for a biopsy throws his fear into sharp relief.

“A biopsy?” he asks, sounding almost angry. “Isn’t that-?”

“The referral is not reason alone to worry,” says the doctor, trying and failing to be soothing. “We just want to have all the information before we make a diagnosis.”

Betty calls Veronica as they wait for an Uber, shifting onto one leg so that she isn’t putting any weight onto her left hip.

“Hi Ronnie,” she says, voice pointedly casual. “I was wondering if you and Arch could take the kids for the night? I’m sorry, I know it’s last minute, but- Are you sure? Thanks, Ronnie. Yeah, we’ll come get them tomorrow. Give them a kiss from us.”

Jughead tries to keep his hands from shaking as they walk into the hospital, gagging a little at the sterile, dead smell of antiseptic and old coffee, the air riddled through with a clinical kind of hopelessness.

The doctors won’t find anything, he thinks to himself, almost like a prayer. The doctors won’t find anything and we’ll pick the kids up from Veronica and Archie’s early and go out to dinner, and Betty and I will toast to our good health. Tomorrow we’ll laugh about this. Tomorrow we’ll be fine. Tomorrow we’ll try for another baby.

His wishing is so fervent that he almost misses the diagnosis when the doctor comes out with a thick folder of papers and words like bone cancer and Stage III and spread to your lungs, Mrs. Jones, we are very sorry and shatters the world like a baseball bat to bone.

They try radiation. They try chemotherapy. They try surgery, try targeted therapy, try every experimental treatment on the market, but the poison keeps eating through Betty, spreading first into her lungs and then into her other organs, cluster after cluster of cells killing her in an invisible civil war.

Weeks twist into months, and then it’s just life, the terror that shreds at his organs just another phantom pain that Jughead learns to live with.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s the darkness,” Betty tells him once, dreamy and nonsensical from the morphine they gave her to deal with the pain. “That old Cooper darkness, finally surfacing in me.”

“Beats being a serial killer,” Jughead replies wryly, because sardonic humor is a difficult coping mechanism to quit and there is so much grief thundering through his brain that he can hardly stand it.

Betty picks his hand up off of where it rests on his hospital bed and presses a kiss to the palm of it, the movement far more labored than it should be. There’s something about the gesture that is so tender, so soft, that he can’t stand it.

Something in his lungs rip, and then Jughead’s crying, the way he hasn’t allowed himself to since the diagnosis came, too caught up in researching treatments and organizing fundraisers and personalizing her hospital room with a sort of panicked, feverish optimism rivalled only by Alice Cooper.

“Oh, Juggie,” murmurs Betty, reaching up to cradle his face, all too pale and with her eyes scarily huge in her thin face. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be alright.”

How can you say that he wants to scream, but then Veronica walks in, holding Rosalind’s hand while Archie carries in Lucy.

“Mommy!” they both shriek, sprinting over to her, and Jughead swipes hard at the tears on his face, watching as the girls clamber up onto the hospital bed to cuddle up to their mother.

“Hi, babies,” says Betty, scattering kisses on their faces, and smiling a little tearily as they tuck themselves into her side, like kittens.

“Look, mommy” says Rosalind brightly, presenting a sheet of computer paper scattered in artless crayon marks. “I made you a drawing of a castle!”

Betty gasps with an appropriate amount of shock, and Jughead pretends not to notice the catch of pain in it. “Oh, Rosie, it’s beautiful!”

Archie sits on the impossibly uncomfortable plastic chair next to Jughead and cups a firm hand on his shoulder.

“How are you doing, man?” he asks, and Jughead gives a miserable sort of shrug.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, trying to think of the right words to say. “The doctor recommended a new experimental treatment, something with enzymes in it, so. Thank you for watching the kids, man. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Veronica says, her makeup a little smeary in the flourescent light of the hospital room. “We love having them, Jug. They can stay as long as you guys need.”

“Thanks,” Jughead says, a little hollow, and then forces a laugh when Rosalind clambers into his lap, saying “Daddy, are you coming home tonight?” and shoving the drawing under his nose.

Things stumble from bad into worse, and Jughead wrangles with the stomach turning, suffocating agony of it, the pain he grapples with in his brain while the girl he loves bleeds out of life in front of him.

It’s the worst kind of magic trick, brave, bright, brilliant Betty Cooper getting too sick to walk in front of him, finally running out of the once inexhaustible hope that powered her high school miracles, the way she managed to pull the darkness straight out of Riverdale.

Jughead refuses to accept it, even once she does. He makes plans for future vacations and talks about remodeling the house and stubbornly, deliberately crafts a future that she must be a part of.

She writes out Rosie and Lucy’s favorite recipes on a yellow legal pad and gives them to Veronica, who practices the recipe for beef stew every night for nine days, bringing in Tupperware containers for Betty to test and give advice on.

Toni and Cheryl all but move into their house, while Jughead all but moves into the hospital, and Veronica and Archie cart the kids around to dance classes and play dates like pseudo parents.

It’s a strange, unstable world, one that seems impossible to go on for very long. But Jughead prefers not to dwell on that.

He goes back to the house that feels impossible empty without her presence for one night, letting Rosalind and Lucy crawl into their bed and sleep next to him.

He cooks pancakes the next morning, making them into funny shapes and Mickey Mouse ears to make the girls laugh, and the world feels almost okay as he walks into the hospital room, each of the girls holding bouquets of sunflowers in their chubby fists.

“Hi, honey,” Betty says, almost teasing as he sits on the edge of her hospital bed, pulling her into a hug and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. The girls crowd around them, giggling madly and ew-ing loudly at the sight of their parents kissing.

It’s one of those perfect, suspended in amber moments, existing out of time or context, all until Betty suddenly goes limp in his arms, head tipping back with unconsciousness.

It’s like pressing red hot metal to an exposed nerve, the crush of fear and panic that pounds through Jughead like a biological instinct, too great and wide to comprehend.

“I need a nurse!” he yells into the hallway, both kids crying as he does chest compressions himself, half remembered and floundering with panic. The room is suddenly filled with people talking fast, all in medical jargon he can’t follow, and then there is a nurse sweeping him out of the room with Rosalind and Lucy, midway through a panic attack and no air at all to breathe.

“Please don’t let her die,” he tells one of the doctors, reeling and nonsensical. “Oh, God, please don’t let her die. She’s the best part of me. Please.” His hands aren’t bloody, but he looks at them like they are.

The funeral is on a Sunday.

Cheryl and Veronica organize the whole thing, a tidy affair with sunflowers and finger sandwiches and a god damned children’s choir. Someone dug through the Cooper house to find pictures, and photographs of Betty litter the walls, tracing all the way from childhood to the very end, two weeks before she would have turned thirty.

Jughead is sick with the unfairness of it all, sick with the memories that are splattered across the walls like a crime scene- him and Betty and Archie, eight years old and ducking their heads out of the treehouse laughing, Betty and Veronica posing in their cheerleading uniforms in high school, his and Betty’s wedding day, both their faces glowing and radiant.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbles to Toni, numb and nauseous, and she loops her arm through his, keeping him standing as people go through the receiving line, offering their condolences.

“Betty was so perfect,” says Moose or whatever the fuck his name is, and Jughead is worn to the bone by all of this, too many friendly sad people when he’s drowning in grief, doing anything he can to keep his head above water in front of Rosalind and Lucy.

“When’s mommy coming home?” Lucy had asked Veronica that morning, all four year old confusion and longing, and Veronica had had to go excuse herself from the room while Jughead explained, again, that mommy wasn’t coming back.

He reads Milton, when it’s his turn to speak, because there is no definition for the world be carved open in front of him, for every happy ending he ever got torn away with no chance to say goodbye, no time for one more I love you, Betty Cooper.

Purification in the old Law did save,

And such, as yet once more I trust to have

Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:

Her face was vail’d, yet to my fancied sight,

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin’d So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O as to embrace me she enclin’d

I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night.

He stumbles over the last few sentences, voice raw and gravelled, and the last line is a small mercy, allowing him to return to his seat. Rosalind and Lucy immediately clamber into his lap, and he holds them tightly against himself, the very last he has of Betty.

He looks away when the coffin is lowered into the ground. She’s not there, anyways.

Cheryl gives him a letter, four days after the funeral.

She’s in a black sweater and a pair of cigarette pants, the most dressed down that he’s ever seen her before.

“Betty told me to give this to you,” she says, voice quiet and not unkind. “A few weeks before.”

There’s no need to clarify what before is.

He rips the paper open once she leaves, fingers shaking as he smoothes down the yellow sheet of paper, scrawled over in her narrow, precise handwriting. The wave of nostalgia is like a physical blow, like a kick to the face, and he sucks in a shuddery breath, willing his heartbeat to slow back down.

Dear Juggie,

If you’re reading this, it means that Cheryl followed through on a promise, for perhaps the first time in her life.

All jokes aside, I wrote this to you because I don’t think you’ve yet accepted that I am probably going to die, and it is probably going to happen soon.

But I want you to know that I love you. You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me, and no matter what has happened along the way, I will never regret the choices that I’ve made, because they have always led me back to you. When you look at me, I still feel like the sixteen year old with a boy in a beanie knocking on her window. So, thank you for loving me, and know that I’ve loved you back fully, totally, with all of the good and bad parts of me.

Please watch our babies grow up when I can’t, and take lots of photos of them. Make sure that they know how absolutely I love them, and that I will always be their mom, no matter what. And tell them lots of stories, so that they know the world is a magic place. Also, when they ask you for a puppy, say yes.

There’s one last thing, Juggie, and you aren’t going to like it. But I need you to promise me that you won’t be afraid to love again. There is so much happiness out there in the world, and you deserve all of it, every single bit. Veronica will make you a dating profile, if the situation demands it. I never want you to get so caught up in the past that you can’t live in the present.

Loving you has been the adventure of a lifetime. Thank you forever.

- Betty Jones, your wife

He sets the letter down on the kitchen table, and calmly goes to the bathroom to retch up the contents of his stomach.

He wasn’t supposed to have to do this alone. He wasn’t supposed to be responsible for Rosalind and Lucy all on his own, wasn’t supposed to be alone in the world, wasn’t supposed to have to function with what feels like a gunshot in his stomach, a slow death, blood everywhere like a crime scene.

He was terrified, the entire time she was pregnant with Rosalind, sure that he was going to fall into his father’s mistakes, that he and Betty would slide into F.P and Alice before they had time to stop themselves.

And when the the worry would start to gnaw at him, Betty would take his hand, moving it to the round of her stomach, where he could feel the tiny, tiny kick underneath.

“We’re not our parents,” she would say, and he would believe her, every time, believe in her shiny hard optimism. And yet, here they are, another generation of motherless Joneses with a grief they don’t understand and a father gone ghost.

Slowly, a new world starts to take shape around them.

Jughead fills the house with pictures of Betty, makes sure that Rosalind and Lucy know what their mother looks like, could pick her out in a crowd if they ever needed to.

Both of them are fiercely attached to their mother, even as their memories of her start to go blurry around the edges. Jughead’s first and only time called into a disciplinary meeting at school comes when a teacher calls Rosalind Rosie, and the girl in question walked out of the classroom without saying a word.

He keeps Betty’s things, of course, all of her dresses and jewelry, and on special occasions he lets the girls play in the closet, giggling at the way Betty’s senior prom dress slumps on their tiny frames.

And like Betty asked of him, he tells them stories, long, sprawling tales that leave them up far past their bedtimes, giggling and play acting out the actions scenes, full of dragons and battles and monsters that get defeated at the end of the day.

Jughead tells them about a princess named Princess Elizabeth, and how she broke out of her tower to go on adventures. How she teamed up with Prince Archiekins and Princess Lodge and Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III, the town pauper, and even though everyone thought she’d marry Prince Archiekins, she chose Jughead instead.

The stories get darker as they get older, and Jughead slips in tales about the time Princess Elizabeth found her missing sister, or discovered that her father was not the man she thought he was.

She stays alive, that way. For an hour each night, Jughead can pull her back into life, so vivid that sometimes he thinks she’s going to appear in the doorway, smiling that slow, cinematic smile, and picking up the girls to swing them around the room. It’s the good sort of ache, like a finger pressed to scar tissue, a bittersweet pain he is learning to live with.

Veronica gives birth to a girl, one that already has her exact shade of hair and wide, curious eyes.

Jughead takes the girls to go visit, mercifully in a different hospital, and Rosalind and Lucy bubble over in excitement, holding flowers and baby gifts that Cheryl helped Jughead pick out.

Archie and Veronica are exhausted and glowing with excitement when he walks in, and their joy is so palpable that Jughead doesn’t have it in him to be sad.

He gives Archie a hug that’s just a little too tight, and kisses Veronica on the cheek, the girls showing off their bouquets.

“Auntie Ronnie, it’s for you and your baby!” says Rosalind, waving the roses in excitement, and Veronica smiles at the moniker, accepting her goddaughter’s excited hug.

Jughead finds himself stunned by it, the kindness that no one taught them but that they stumbled into instead, so like their mother.

“You want to hold her?” Archie asks, and before Jughead can politely decline, the baby is in his arms. He bobs her up and down, taking in the way she has Archie’s nose and Veronica’s mouth, the girls all the while pulling at his arms to look at the baby.

“What are you gonna name her?” Jughead asks, sitting down so that Rosalind can better examine her with a curious glint in her eyes.

Veronica glances at Archie, and bites her lip, somehow nervous. But it’s Archie that turns to Jughead, something soft in his eyes.

“That’s the thing. We were thinking- We want to call her Elizabeth. Lizzy for short.”

Jughead swallows hard at the lump in his throat, glancing back down at the baby in his arms. A thousand memories of Betty as a little kid spring into his head, unbidden, the three of them’s childhood adventures and mishaps.

She would love this, he thinks to himself.

“We won’t do it if you don’t want us to, Jug,” Veronica says to his silence. “We just thought-”

“No,” Jughead says cutting her off. “No. Elizabeth is- is really good, you guys. I’m so happy for you.”

He traces a line down the baby’s nose, and she smiles at him gummily. “Hi, Elizabeth,” he says, trying not to cry, and then Lucy sneaks into his lap, petting the baby gently on the head.

“Don’t be sad, daddy,” she says, comforting in the way only five year olds can be, and Jughead smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head.

“I’m not,” he says, and finds that it’s the truth.

#omg you guys im sorry #I most likely gave my laptop water damage crying into it #bughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #mine #prompt

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professortennant · 6 years

Note

5 times Jack gave Sam his tags and the 1 time she gave him hers

written in about 2 hours (fuckin yikes it took some time) and clocks in at about 3445 words. rated T.

After Turghan, Jack had promised himself that he’d stick by Carter’s side a little tighter; maybe stand a little closer than protocol strictly dictated to give off some vague impression of possession should the question ever arise.

And arise it had.

The leader of PX5-972′s tribe looked at them with narrowed eyes, gaze darting between Sam and the rest of SG-1. “Who does this woman belong to?”

Jack stepped forward, finger on the trigger of his P90 just in case. He shot a look at Sam and smiled slightly to himself at the sight of her biting down hard on her lip to stop herself from protesting at the disdain with which woman was said and the insinuation that she belonged to anyone.

“She’s with me,” he said, hoping that would settle the matter. For the most part, their matching uniforms and military stances helped sell the ruse they were together.

The man’s eyes traveled over Sam’s form and he watched as she glared back, refusing to drop his gaze, her back straightening and shoulders squaring.

“You don’t claim your woman? No ring? No collar? How do the others of your world know she is taken?”

There was a pause as SG-1 shared a rush of silent communication–raised eyebrows and widened eyes and parted lips. And then Daniel was stepping in, his cultural knowledge scraping for an excuse.

“Our customs dictate a public exchange of, of, necklaces!” Daniel grinned at Jack and Sam, his eyes lingering on the silver chain of their dog tags. “Their names are inscribed on the metal and each morning and evening they exchange them. Uh, Jack, go ahead.”

Jack looked startled for a moment, wondering if this guy was actually buying the crap Daniel was spewing, before sighing and sliding his gun to his side, hands going to his dog tags around his neck and lifting them up over his head.

A few steps later and he was standing before his second in command, grinning at her with bright, warm brown eyes. “Well, Carter, whaddya say? Be my woman?”

She snorted at his irreverence and rolled her eyes. “You romantic, sir,” she deadpanned.

He slipped his dog tags over her head, knuckles brushing over her hair and ears as he settled the metal around her neck. Jack adjusted the tags on the front of her shirt, his name upon the metal facing outwards.

“There,” he said softly. “Claimed.”

A gentle blush spread across Carter’s cheeks and she ducked her head, hands tightening their grip on her P90.

As the tribal leader clapped his hands in delight and waved them on into the village, Jack swallowed hard and tried not to think about how much he really, really liked seeing his name hanging from his second in command’s neck.

II.

Daniel and Teal’c were passed out in the prison corner, catching a few hours of sleep in between watches. Jack grimaced and pressed fingers to his tender ribs, already knowing they were broken and, judging from the new gurgling rasp to his breath, that they had either punctured the lung or were pressing dangerously close against the lining.

They had an escape plan to enact tomorrow: distract the guards, break the control crystals, head for the rings, and then hightail it to the Stargate–all while fighting and dodging a couple battalions of Jaffa. Easy breezy.

But no matter SG-1′s miraculously lucky streak and no mater how Carter spun the odds of survival, he knew his chances of making it to the Stargate were slim. He’d do anything in his power to at least get his team back home safe.

A warm weight settled next to him and he shuddered out a breath.

“Carter,” he acknowledged. “You should be sleeping.”

She shrugged, drawing equations and star charts into the dirt at their feet. “Just going over the plan for tomorrow and couldn’t sleep.”

“You’ll be fine, Carter.”

He felt her gaze drill a hole into the side of his head, her doodles in the dirt stopping abruptly. “We’ll be fine, sir. You, included.”

Jack smiled softly at the fierceness in her voice, her insistence that he would come out of this just as fine, just as alive, as the rest of them. The sharp pain in his chest and the rattling breath he drew reminded him that he may not be seeing the SGC again.

He reached up and tugged his dog tags from his neck and dangled them between their bodies, offering them to her silently. She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise and pushed his hand away, “No, sir. Don’t you–Don’t–”

He pretended to not hear the crack in her voice or see the glint of tears in her eyes. “Sam,” he said softly, pushing the tags back at her. “Please. I want you to take them, just in case. If I–If I don’t come back. Bury them with Charlie. Just take them.”

She let out a strangled half-moan of distress before clenching her jaw and taking the tags from him, looping the metal around her neck, nestled right next to hers.

He sagged in relief, knowing this one thing would at least be taken care of–one less thing to worry about tomorrow in the back of his head. Sam rested her head on his shoulder, the silence descending upon them, easy and familiar. They always worked better, communicated better, in the silence.

“I’m giving these back to you in 9 hours, sir. And then I’m kicking your ass for giving them to me in the first place.”

He rested his head against hers, hiding his grin into her hair and forgetting the pain in his chest for a brief moment.

“Yes, ma’am.”

III.

The alien virus struck the women of the base hard but Carter, as Patient Zero, fell ill first and fell ill hardest. The virus caused confusion and dizziness, memory loss, and fleeting moments of aggression. Few things, in Jack O’Neill’s opinion, were as scary as watching the bright light behind Samantha Carter’s eyes dim in lost confusion, all spark of otherworldly intelligence and awareness disappearing.

The first, wild swing at General Hammond and the primal scream she let out earned her a one way trip to the SGC infirmary. Jack watched from her bedside as she thrashed in her infirmary bed, screaming and crying and begging to be let go. His heart leapt to his throat and he looked at Janet helplessly, “Doc, help her!”

The tiny doctor rushed forward and brushed her hands over Sam’s face, shining a light against her pupils and checking for a reaction. But Sam continued her thrashing, hips lifting off the bed.

Janet cursed and turned to the Colonel. “Help me hold her down.” She turned and ordered the nearest airman to bring her a set of restraints.

Jack hastily obeyed, grabbing Sam’s arms and leaning over her, keeping his voice low. “C’mon, Carter, snap out of it. C’mon, c’mon…”

His dog tags swung out from beneath his black undershirt and the edge of the tag brushed over her nose. She stilled and looked up at him, arm sneaking free of his hold and grasping the chain, holding the metal tag closer to her eyes.

“Jack,” she said slowly, eyes widening. For a moment, Jack saw recognition and awareness peak through her face, eyes brightening and staring at him. Her fingers curled around the metal and tugged and he went down with her, their faces a hair’s breadth apart.

“Jack,” she whispered, imploring and pleading. He just nodded, encouraged, hoping that whatever had struck Carter was over.

“Yeah, Sam,” he said, voice low and soothing. “It’s Jack.”

Beside them, Janet and the airman stood watching the interaction, restraints at the ready.

Carter tugged at his dog tags again and chanted to herself Jack Jack Jack. Whatever it was about his dog tags, it soothed something inside of Sam and he would sit here as long as it took until Doc Fraiser and her merry band of airman could figure out what the hell was going on.

He stayed with her, nose brushing over Carter’s occasionally as she continue her exam of his dog tags, the pads of her fingertips tracing over the engraved name and blood type and date and identification number.

After a while, though, staying hunched over in this position was hell on his back and knees. He couldn’t sit in the chair at her bedside without strangling himself. Jack figured it wasn’t really him that sick Carter was attached to–it was his tags. She was finally dozing softly–partially due to the comfort of his dog tags and partially because of the light sedative Janet had administered.

Licking his lips, Jack wriggled as gently as possible and lifted the chain from his neck. The rest of the metal fell onto her chest, his tags still safely encased in her fist. He let out a little groan of relief when he finally could sit down.

In the bed before him, Sam stirred a little and she let out a breathy, “Jack…”

He tried to not let the sound get to him, tried not to imagine that breathy sound echoing off the walls in his bedroom. Shaking himself from his fantasy detour, he slipped his hand into hers, thumb stroking over the inside of her risk.

She rolled onto her side towards him and drew her clenched fist with his dog tags in it up beneath her chin, sighing softly.

He was more than happy to be her anchor.

IV.

Cassie frowned at him from her position on his lap, fingers tugging at the chain around his neck. “But why do only you and Mom and Sam wear these?” Her eyes lit up. “Can I have some, too?”

He laughed and ruffled her hair, swinging her up and off his lap and taking her smaller hand in his, leading her to the ice cream stand across the way from the park.

“Only military wears ‘em, Cass.”

He ordered them an ice cream each–chocolate cone for him and strawberry for her. They munched and linked happily at the confection and Jack forgot how much fun it was to be around kids like this–eating ice cream on a sunny day and asking questions just because you could.

“But why do you wear them?”

He sighed and took a thoughtful lick of his ice cream. “It’s complicated, sweetheart. Sometimes when we go off-world or to another country and things go wrong and we can’t come back, the military uses our dog tags–that’s what we call ‘em–to identify us.”

He hoped he didn’t need to explain further. Cassie was wise beyond her years and probably understood exactly why they would need to be identified. Cassie bit into her ice cream and hummed.

“And then what?”

He shrugged, pulling the car keys from his pocket as they approached his truck. “And then they give your tags to someone really special to you so they can have closure, a piece of you after you’re gone. It’s–it’s complicated, Cass. The tags mean a lot to military. It’s a piece of who you are, a scrap of yourself when you’re a long way from home.”

They clambered up into the truck and Jack finished off the last bite of ice cream, wincing as Cassie’s melting dessert dripped onto his upholstery.

“I get it,” she said softly. “I’d,” she hesitated before continuing. “I wish my mom had something like that before…”

He heard the sadness tinge her voice and he reached out to cup her shoulder and the back of her head in comfort. “I know, kiddo.”

Shaking off the memories, Cassie turned a mischievious look towards Jack. “So,” she said slowly, dragging out the ‘o’ sound and grinning. “You’re not married.”

He furrowed his brow at her. “No,” he confirmed.

“And you don’t have any siblings?”

“Nope.”

“So, someone else who was special would get your tags, right?”

He turned a sharp eye on her, wondering where she was going with this. “I suppose,” he said, laughter in his voice.

Cassie shrugged and turned to face towards the windshield, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

“Sam’s pretty special to you, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Sam’s pretty special.”

“So, if something happened to you….she’d get your tags?”

Jack’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and he imagined a world in which a couple of airmen and General Hammond had to hand Sam his tags along with the letter addressed to her in his desk. He didn’t want to think about Sam sliding his tags alongside her own, the only piece of him–the only memory of him–she had left.

He cleared his throat and shook the image from his mind.

“Yeah, Cass. She’s the special someone who would get my tags.”

Jack inhaled deeply, gathering his nerve and hoping to God that Pete wasn’t with her tonight. He couldn’t do this on base–it was too personal, too much. A few short raps upon her door later, she was standing before him looking soft and tousled, wrapped in a too-large USAF sweatshirt and thin pajama pants.

She looked surprised to see him on her porch and she hugged the door to he hip. “Uh, what are you doing here, sir?”

He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. She opened the door wider and gestured at her entry hall. “Did you want to come in?”

He thought about the temptation of being alone in her house with her, wrapped up in the scent of her, her soft skin and warm body only a few inches from him. It was too much to fight against and he was already feeling weak, already feeling stretched too thin and too tested.

He shook his head and shuffled his feet, “Uh, no, that’s okay. I’ll be quick. It’s just, I just–Ah, hell.” Words were never his strong suit, anyway. He withdrew his hand from his jean pocket and held out the tangled silver chain and dog tags.

She gaped at him, eyes darting from his outstretched hand to his eyes–eyes that were warm and open and pleading, tinged with sadness and a touch of desperation.

“Sir…”

He shook his head against the honorific. “No, not ‘sir.’ Not for this, Sam.”

She stared, her tight grip on the door turning her knuckles white. “And what is ‘this’?”

And wasn’t that the question of the decade.

He drew his shoulders back, hand holding his dog tags still outstretched between them. “I can’t give you a ring, Sam. Not now and I know, I know you got tired of waiting for someday. But I can’t let you go or marry Pete without offering you this.” He pushed the tags towards her again.

He hoped she understood what he was saying; hoped that whatever connection they shared allowed her to see that he was offering everything he had ever held dear to him to her–his life wrapped up and personified by a metal plate with his name and burial preferences stamped into a tag and chain.

Sam stepped out from behind her door onto the porch in front of him, the pair of them illuminated by her porch light. Her fingers reached between them, brushing over the tags and the skin of his palm and wrist and fingers. He watched with rapt attention as she gently took the tags from his hand and pressed her thumb into the engraving of his name.

She looked up at him, eyes shining with tears and her teeth sunken into the flesh of her bottom lip. “Jack,” she said softly, voice breaking.

She pushed the tags back at him.

The air rushed from his lungs and the color drained from his face. She didn’t want him anymore–didn’t want someday. He hoped he wasn’t swaying on the spot, hoped she didn’t see the way his heart shattered in his chest and spread numbing coldness throughout his body and down his fingertips.

He had forgotten what heartbreak truly felt like.

Numbly, he took the tags from her–took his offer of a life, of a love and a future back. He wondered how much Scotch he’d have to drink tonight to forget this feeling.

And then she was there, hands ghosting over his hands and up his arms, brushing his cheek gently. “Jack.” Her voice was low and warm and the crooked finger beneath his chin lifted his gaze to hers and she was smiling–smiling–at him.

“I know it’s not a ring, but you could at least put it on me.”

His broken heart pieced itself back together in the time it took him to see her smile and warmth courtesy of Samantha Carter rushed through his body once more. He grinned at her easy acceptance and lifted the chain around her neck, deliberately trailing the backs of his fingers against her ears and neck, taking careful time to adjust the pair of tags between the valley of her breasts.

The back of his knuckles grazed the swell of her breast and she gasped, swaying forward. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to seal the deal of their facsimile of an engagement, of this promise, in the traditional way–even if nothing about this, about them, was traditional.

He stepped back, hands trailing over her arms, his eyes glued to his name resting over her heart.

“Hold on, Sam,” he said softly. “Someday is coming soon, I promise. Just–just hold on.”She pressed her hand over his heart and nodded. “Holding on, sir.”VI.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Sam rolled her eyes at her husband’s greeting, calling out from the kitchen, “In here.”

He strode in and tossed his cover onto the counter, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her softly, pressing his lips to hers lightly and then more insistently, tongue sweeping over the seam of her lips.

She hummed against him and pulled away, enjoying the way Jack’s eyes remained closed a half-second after their kiss ended, as if he was still savoring her touch.

“I have something for you,” she said, turning towards the kitchen table where a black box sat. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her again, hand palming her breast and his hips pressing into hers from behind.

His lips sucked at her pulse point and he murmured into her skin, “I bet you do.”

She swatted him away and made a grab for the box on the table, turning and pressing it into his chest.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, turning his attention to the box and missing the apprehension and nervousness on his wife’s face. “Why, Carter, it’s not even my birthday.”

He lifted the hinged lid and stared at the contents. Sam held her breath as she watched him pull out the tiny link-metal chain with three dog tags on it.

On one tag, her name was engraved: Samantha Carter-O’Neill. DOB 08/28/65.

On another, his name was engraved: Jack O’Neill. DOB 01/23/50.

And finally, on the middle tag, was engraved: Baby Carter-O’Neill. DOB: TBD.

His large hands held the tiny dog tags in his palm, cradling the cool metal, his lips forming the words silently over and over again: Baby O’Neill.

Sam twisted her hands in front of her anxiously. “Jack? Are you–Do you–”

But her question was cut off as Jack wrapped his arms around her, his face buried into her neck, shoulders shaking with tears and laughter and sobs. “We’re gonna have a baby, Sam. A baby, I–”

She sagged against him in relief and felt his hand palm her belly, searching for signs of life already, searching for changes to her body that he had somehow missed with his lips and tongue and hands last night.

Between them, their hands wrapped around the set of dog tags–the first Carter-O’Neill family portrait of sorts.

About nine months later, that set of tags hung happily above their daughter’s crib.

#mystupidumbflyboy #sam x jack #sg1 fic #stargate sg1 fic #samantha carter #jack o'neill #jack x sam

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