#it's been 6 months now and i still live in their smiles and stolen glances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

409 notes · View notes

newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

I adore all your fics but something about A Letter You Never Read is making me flail even more then usual, bravo! Amazing job and congrats on 6 months of Bridgerton and Sons :D How does the first family dinner that Anthony brings Kate to post-ALYNR go?

I am truly shocked at the response this fic has gotten tbh

This might sound ridiculous, but I genuinely didn't think anyone would care . It was, like everything I write, pure self indulgence.

Anon Also asked: I think it would be hilarious to see Kate meeting the bridgertons in a letter you never read - I can imagine violet being beside herself with joy and the boys wanting to tell her all about Anthony pining after her 😂

Okay! Let's see Kate at her first Bridgerton family event.

Anthony had tried to say it so casually, she knew he had, but Kate knew what this meant to him, knew how much he probably wanted her to say yes. "No pressure or anything, but my Mum's invited you for dinner this week." She'd stilled, Newton nipping at her fingers, sitting in her lap. She knew really, what he was asking her, three weeks into their relationship. He wanted her to meet his family, to start twining their lives more firmly together. And as much as she liked the idea, as much as she liked the idea that her boyfriend wanted to let her into his life even more than he already had, it made her nervous. Anthony ran his hand through his hair nervously. "Forget I said anything." "I would love to meet your family." She said quickly, her hand on his arm to calm him, even though her heart was pounding. "Fair warning though, next week my Dad wants to meet you." And his smile had been so beautiful it had stolen her heart from her chest.

SO here she was, standing outside certainly the biggest house she'd ever been invited into, a bouquet of flowers clenched tightly in her fist. She'd panicked on the phone to Mary last night, "Mary he wants me to meet his family. What if they absolutely can't stand me?! What if his mum thinks I'm stupid and his Dad thinks I'm trash?! He'll break up with me and this will all be a humiliating footnote on the rest of my life!" Mary had sighed, "Sweetheart, have you seen yourself? The Bridgertons are going to love you. Besides, I've met Edmund and Violet and they're lovely just be yourself." Privately Kate thought that nothing good could come from being herself. That was hw she was in this mess to begin with.

Anthony's hand was warm in hers, his smile bright when he said, "Relax, Kate, they're really excited to meet you, and they're going to love you. I think my Mum already does." and then, before she could respond, Anthony had swung open the door, and they'd nearly been swallowed whole by the chaos. A boy who would be barely older than ten was standing at the tope of the stairs screaming "Hyacinth stood on my AT-AT walker lego and wrecked it!" A girl who must be Hyacinth given the slightly smug expression was saying "It was bad anyway!" Eloise and Francesca, who Kate had already met were appearing to be placing bets on which of their siblings would prevail as the two on the stairs started wrestling.

"What the hell?!" Anthony said, a little alarmed and everyone stopped. He appeared to be shooting murderous glances at each of his siblings, before an apologetic one at Kate, who could barely hold in her laughter at the chaos unfolding before her. "Anthony?!" A woman's voice called out, "Are you here sweetheart?" Anthony barely had time to call out "Yes, Mum!" Before a woman appeared, much younger than Kate would have thought honestly, her dark hair swept back off her face, her eyes alight with excitement, followed by a man who looked so startlingly like Anthony Kate nearly dropped her flowers.

"Hyacinth, let go of your brother immediately!" Anthony's mother hissed, gesturing wildly to her husband to do something about the situation. Anthony's father's solution was to sweep towards his youngest child and lift her onto his shoulders, forcibly breaking the headlock she had her brother in. Anthony cleared his throat.

"Mum, Dad, this is Kate Sheffield." He said quietly, his hand squeezing hers tightly, a small smile on his face as he finished, "She's my girlfriend." his mother made a soft cooing noise as though the prospect delighted her "Katie, this is my Mum and Dad, Hyacinth and Gregory and Eloise and Francesca who you met the other week." Anthony finished, gesturing to everyone. "Yes, we did meet the other week, didn't we Frankie? Not that we really got a chance to speak, Anthony was rather-" Eloise had started, but Anthony's mother clearly sensing danger interrupted.

"Kate! It's so lovely to finally meet you." She said, a little too loudly, and before Kate could react she was swept into a very tight hug, the flowers she'd brought held limply behind her back. "It's lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Bridgerton." Kate said still feeling a little awkward and she pulled back. "And you, Mr. Bridgerton." She turned to his father who was looking at her with a strange mix of curiosity and pride. "Oh please, Violet's fine." Violet said taking Kate's hand and breezing from the room. "My goodness you're even more beautiful than I remember, no wonder Anthony's in such a state." Kate felt her cheeks flush. "Now we are just so so glad that you and Anthony reconnected, oh he just liked you so much in school. We all knew it but the poor boy was far too nervous to do anything about it." Kate felt her eyebrows raise, surprised that his mother would know who she was by name alone. "Mum!" Anthony said, his cheeks burning as he scampered after them, "Well, it's true, son. Vi, do you remember that time Anthony got hit in the head with a football because Katie Sheffield" he said the name in a dreamy sigh, "Walked past?"

Kate felt laughter bubble in her chest, her nerves slipping away. "Edmund, you're embarrassing him." Violet said lightly, forcing Kate into a seat at the breakfast bar in the Kitchen, Anthony plopping into the seat beside her, looking adorably petulant, She took his hand squeezing tightly and a small smile came to his face. "You're both embarrassing me." he muttered, his ears burning red, worsening as Kate kissed his cheek. "Excuse me, Kate." Gregory said politely, looking quite nervous as she turned towards him. "Anthony said that you have a puppy." "Anthony said, you have a puppy together." Hyacinth corrected eyeing Anthony who quickly said. "I didn't, I said Kate had a puppy. Katie I didn't tell them we got a dog together." He said quickly, his eyes horrified. And honestly, he needn't be so embarrassed, everything about this evening was only making her feel even closer to Anthony than she already felt, even more in love with him than she was, not that she could tell him that.

Gregory sighed, nudging his sister, "Anyway, um, me and Hyacinth were wondering if maybe we could meet the puppy?" He looked so adorably nervous to have asked, so much like a younger version of Anthony that Kate felt her stomach clench. "Mate, you can't ask people if you can meet their-" Anthony started, but Kate cut across him. "Next time I come, I'll bring him for you to see, he loves meeting new people. Maybe we can take him to the park sometime." Anthony was looking at her with such an odd expression, almost as if he were in awe of the very simple thing she'd just done. Gregory and Hyacinth high fived, tearing from the room.

"Well as I live and breathe if it isn't Katie Sheffield!" Benedict Bridgerton's voice boomed through the Kitchen, clearly just arrived. Kate smiled. "It's been a long time, Ben." She said as Benedict nudged Anthony out of the way to talk to her. "Oh too long. I had to listen to this one cry on the phone for months after you blocked him on Instagram." "I didn't block him." Kate said quickly, anxiety swirling in her stomach. Anthony swatted at his brother's ear, and just when she thought it couldn't possibly be more manic, and voice boomed. "My Lord, Anthony! Katie Sheffield's in the kitchen! The very reason you spent so much time in the shower is right here in the-" Colin's voice was cut off by a groan as Anthony's elbow connected with his stomach.

When Kate returned to the room sometime later having had to take a call she heard her boyfriend hissing. "Why can you not just be as cool as I am about this?! Why do you have to embarrass me?!" "Anthony, you look like a horny beetroot." a voice said Dryly. "Colin!" Edmund Bridgerton admonished and then, "But he isn't wrong Anthony." Kate couldn't help but Kiss Anthony very soundly when she returned to her seat next to him, unable to stop herself, affection overflowing for him, the room filled with awkward silence as soon as she appeared.

"I'm really fucking sorry about my family." Anthony groaned as they slid into the car, his forehead slumping against hers. Kate chuckled, "They love you, and they're happy that you're happy. It's nice." Anthony groaned again. "And besides, when you meet my family, it'll be way worse for you than that."

#anthony be like I AM SUPER CHILL ALL THE TIME #His family:👀👀👀👀👀 Where?!#a letter that you never read #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

78 notes · View notes

thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven, part 1

(this is the continuation of 12C!)

Tag List: @deluxewhump @whumpinggrounds @yet-another-heathen @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @killtheprotagonist @kixngiggles

Content Warnings: immortal whumpee, lady whumpee, references to captivity and lab whump, malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, escape, caretaking, implied trauma, implied nudity

Author’s Notes: I really really hope you guys enjoy this one...I hope it’s as cathartic to read as it was to write. :)

I decided to start this next bit under a new title. The parts for the last one were getting excessive, and also this way even if my plans for the rest of it don’t work out, 12C is a complete thought.

As for the ‘escape plan’, I had more details of it in my mind but as I was writing it they felt...boring? So I cut the crap and kept it simple. Just trust that there was a plan and I’m just not a good enough writer to make it interesting. Besides, I wanted to get to the cute shit. :))

----

“You’re sure you know the plan?”

“Yes.”

“And...you’re sure you’re strong enough?”

“...I have to be.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

A huff lacking any real frustration. “Yes, Liv.”

“Okay. Two nights from now. Hang in there.”

----

The wheels of Liv’s cart are loud as they roll down the empty hallway, muffling out her sneakered footsteps. The sound also muffles her half-full water bottle falling from one of the shelves with a smack, and even if it weren’t for the cart, she’s got her headphones on, music turned up loud.

Liv comes to a stop at the door to the storage room. It’s unlocked, like always. She holds the door open with one hand and pushes her cart in halfway with the other. It’s then that she ‘notices’ her bottle down the hall, several yards away. Frustrated, she leaves the cart where it is and trudges to go pick it up.

When she returns, she only spends a couple of minutes in the storage room, restocking a few cleaning supplies so she won’t have to tomorrow. As she leaves the room and continues down the hall, she gives no indication that her cart has suddenly become heavier.

She gets into the elevator and heads upstairs to finish her final tasks of the night. This includes disposing of the garbage and hazardous waste she’s gathered throughout the night, putting utensils in a machine to be sanitized, and dumping linens from a hamper down a chute into a laundry room.

“Curl up tight,” she whispers as she tips the hamper. There’s a soft thud as more than just sheets and towels slide down the chute.

Liv finishes putting her things away, puts the papers from her clipboard in a file folder outside her manager’s door, uses the bathroom, and finally clocks out and heads to the parking garage. Calm, collected, seemingly lost in her music.

Heart pounding. Thoughts racing. Hopeful and terrified.

Her old but beloved little car sits alone on this floor of the dimly lit concrete garage. She throws her things into the passenger side before sitting heavily with a sigh in the driver’s seat. After a moment she turns on the car and begins the winding path up towards the exit.

As she rounds a bend she slows down a little...and remains slow for several moments until she hears her back door open and shut and a rustling as someone lies across the seat and burrows under a waiting blanket. She picks up her speed again, rolling down her window so she can swipe her ID card to get out.

Liv drives into the dark of night. It’s just past two in the morning, the roads empty, the traffic lights in town all blinking yellow. From the back seat she can hear weak, muffled breaths. When she looks at her rearview mirror, she can just make out the bundled heap trembling by the light of street lamps.

She waits until she’s a couple miles beyond the facility’s property before speaking, her voice hoarse from how dry her throat is.

“You okay back there?”

“...not sure,” comes Emmeline’s answer, fear and exhaustion palpable in her voice. “Do you think they saw anything?”

“If we did everything right, no...but I guess we’ll find out.”

Liv puts on an air of confident nonchalance that is so far from how she feels, but it’s for Emmeline’s sake. The risks have become so much more than a slap on the wrist. If they’re caught Liv will be fired and almost certainly arrested for theft of company ‘property’. But Emmeline...not only will she have to go back there, but she’ll be kept under such tight lock and key that any second chance of escape would be impossible, and Liv would no longer be there to even try.

This was their one shot, and all Liv can do is try to keep her panic at bay and hope they didn’t screw it up.

And take care of Emmeline, she thinks, glancing again at the mirror.

The drive home takes its predictable twenty minutes, give or take a few. Liv pulls into her spot beside a nondescript brick apartment building and shuts off her car. She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment to breathe and pull her thoughts together.

It’s quiet from the back.

“Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm…”

That translates to barely.

“Not much further...then you can rest…”

The weight of that statement is too much for Liv’s tired mind to truly process, but it still briefly occurs to her just how big it is, just what it means. For the first time in months, Emmeline can finally, truly rest.

She goes to the back seat and helps Emmeline to her feet. Emmeline remains resolutely wrapped from neck to ankles in the blanket. Despite it being the old, scratchy one Liv keeps in her car in case of emergency, to Emmeline it’s so much more than she’s been allowed.

Standing there barefoot in the parking lot, Emmeline slowly looks up at Liv, strands of limp, messy hair hanging around her face. The single light on the side of the building illuminates her drawn face and although she’s weak, malnourished, exhausted...there is a grateful reverence in her eyes that no matter what happens, Liv will never forget.

Liv swallows and pushes down the lump in her throat. “Come on,” she whispers, putting her arm around Emmeline’s blanket-clad shoulders and guiding her towards the door.

----

Her apartment is tidier than usual; Liv made sure of that, even though she’s pretty sure Emmeline won’t care. Considering where she has spent the last several months, a jail cell would seem like an upgrade. But if Liv is anything, she’s self-conscious.

Emmeline looks around, blinking blearily after having barely made it up the single flight of stairs. She’s swaying on her feet and Liv ushers her to sit on the couch before she passes out right there in the middle of the living room.

Liv is running on adrenaline and fumes at this point. It’s all too surreal, like an out of body experience. Even after long hours spent thinking and planning, she never expected to get this far. But now Emmeline is here, in her apartment, sitting on her couch. Existing outside of the lab, real and tangible.

And she needs you. Get it together.

“I know you probably want to sleep,” Liv begins. Emmeline is still looking around the room like she can’t quite believe it either. “But you haven’t eaten, so...I want to get something in you first, if that’s okay?”

“Okay,” Emmeline whispers.

Liv moves slowly to the kitchen and busies herself with preparing something light and easy: canned soup, crackers, a mug of herbal tea with honey. Like in the car, she allows herself a moment to take a few deep breaths and will her hands to stop shaking before she picks up the plastic tray and carries the food back into the living room.

Emmeline hasn’t moved an inch, not even to relax back against the couch cushions. It isn’t quite what Liv expected...but then, what did she expect? For everything to be better the moment they got here? It isn’t all going to be okay overnight, she realizes. Give her time.

“Here…” Liv sets the tray on the coffee table and sits at the edge of the couch, leaving a few inches between them, not wanting to crowd Emmeline. “Um - chicken noodle soup. Saltines. Chamomile vanilla tea.”

Emmeline blinks slowly at the items before her. “I’m not dreaming. Right?”

“I hope not. Eating canned soup in my apartment isn’t a very exciting dream.”

A faint smile appears on Emmeline’s face. “To me it is…”

Liv holds the bowl of soup while Emmeline eats small spoonfuls of it and nibbles on crackers. She only eats about half before moving on to the tea, cupping the warm mug in her hands and humming with pleasure when she takes the first sip.

“Could I - “ Emmeline begins, but stops abruptly, ducking her head and taking another sip.

“Could you…?”

“Take a shower?” she asks almost inaudibly.

“Of course you can,” Liv answers automatically. “You can have whatever you need.”

Emmeline hesitates, still so frail and uncertain. “Just that is enough...thank you…”

Strengthened by her meal, Emmeline is able to make her own way to the bathroom. Beneath the blanket she is wearing a pair of nurse’s scrubs, stolen from the laundry room at the lab just in case a glimpse of her was caught on camera, though Liv meticulously designed their plan to avoid that. She sheds the clothes and Liv bundles them and the blanket into a plastic bag to discard tomorrow.

Emmeline disappears into the bathroom and a minute later the water comes on.

Liv is left sitting on the couch, finally alone with her fears and doubts.

I can’t believe I did that…

If we get caught we’re so fucked…

Does she even want to be here?

What the hell do I do now?

She grabs the tray of dishes and hurries to the kitchen, where she actually washes them instead of pushing it off to tomorrow, just to distract herself. When that task is done too soon, she goes to change into pajamas and find something for Emmeline to wear.

She’s unfolding and refolding the clothes for the third time when the water shuts off. Just as Liv is standing to bring her the clothes, the sound of the shower curtain moving aside is followed by a cry and a loud thud.

Liv darts to the bathroom, everything else forgotten. She enters without knocking, her heart in her throat.

Emmeline is sprawled on her side on the floor, grimacing. One leg is hooked over the edge of the tub and it quickly becomes apparent that she slipped.

Not attacked. Not passed out or dead. She just fell. It’s okay. It’s okay.

At the sound of Liv entering the room, she rolls onto her back with a groan, revealing a bruise on her hip that slowly starts to heal as soon as the pressure is removed from it.

“Ow…”

“Shit...I forgot to put the bath mat in,” Liv mutters, embarrassed. No wonder Emmeline slipped. She crouches beside her and offers her arms for Emmeline to hold onto.

“Not your fault,” Emmeline answers quietly as she slowly gets to her feet. “I got dizzy…”

The moment Emmeline is standing she sways into Liv, leaning heavily against her before her legs can give out again. Liv freezes, acutely aware of the pressure of Emmeline’s body draped against hers, soft and clean, so weary, so in need of comfort.

All of those evenings Liv spent watching her suffer, wishing she could hold her, touch her gently, stroke her hair...now she has the chance, not a camera or another soul in sight, and she can’t move, can barely think. Not when Emmeline has her head tucked against Liv’s shoulder, breathing soft breaths against her neck.

Liv reaches blindly to her side until she finds a towel hanging on a hook beside the shower. She puts enough space between them to wrap it around Emmeline’s shivering form but remains close enough to steady her. By now Emmeline looks like she might fall asleep where she stands.

“Sorry,” Emmeline whispers, her drooping gaze fixed on Liv’s shirt. “I got you wet…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it,” Liv answers quietly. “Come on…”

She guides her the final few feet into the bedroom and helps her into soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then she pulls back the covers - freshly washed sheets on a freshly made bed, another thing she made sure of - and motions for Emmeline to get in.

“A bed?” Emmeline breathes. She runs her fingers over the sheet with a look of wonder.

“Mmhmm,” Liv affirms, lips pressed together. She’s afraid if she opens her mouth to speak she might cry from the sudden well of emotion at finally being able to give this to Emmeline, this comfort and safety she so deserves.

Emmeline slowly lies down on the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief when her head comes to rest on the plush pillow. Liv pulls the covers over her and tucks them around her snugly. She barely resists planting a soft kiss to Emmeline’s damp hair. Barely.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

Emmeline is already fast asleep.

57 notes · View notes

sugdenlovesdingle · 3 years

Text

The Right Choice? chapter 8 (AO3)

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7

A/N: it’s a long one, grab a snack before you start reading!

-----

“Ready for your first shift?” Vic asked excitedly.

“Yeah, bring it on.” Robert replied, forcing himself to be excited too.

He’d just filled out the necessary paperwork for Jai and his probation officer, and Laurel had given him a quick tour of the place, saying Vic would show him the ropes in the café.

“You’re alright to work the bar, right?” Laurel asked suddenly, like she’d just realised he might not be. “They didn’t put any restrictions on you for that?”

“Nope, it’s fine. I just can’t work any night shifts for now because I have a 9PM curfew. But I talked about that with Jai…”

“Oh that’s alright then.” She gave him a friendly smile. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of your sister. If either of you need anything, just come find me.”

“Sure thing.” He replied and turned to Vic after she left. “Please let me do some cutting or slicing or something in the kitchen. I’m not feeling very customer friendly this morning.” He pleaded.

“But it’s still quiet now. I can show you where everything is and how everything works back here now.” Vic argued. “Nobody’s going to come in for a while now and Amy can handle things on her own for now.”

Robert sighed.

“Fine.” He knew she was right, he just didn’t want to admit it.

By lunchtime, Robert was starting to get the hang of the fancy coffee machine and the till and he actually liked being busy again.

The morning had been fairly quiet, with just a few members from the outdoor staff coming in for a coffee or juice, and a handful of villages he had the feeling had been told to come in by either Vic or Diane.

“Hiya pet.” Diane said happily as she and Bernice walked into the café. “We thought we’d treat ourselves to some lunch up here.” They sat down at a table near the one Robert was cleaning. “How is your first day going?”

“Alright.” Robert replied and looked at Vic. “The boss is a bit of a tough nut but I think she likes me.”

“Very funny.” Vic swatted at him with he cloth in her hands as she walked over to them. “You’ve got customers up at the counter, I’ll take their order.” She nodded at Diane and Bernice, while pushing Robert back to the counter.

Robert laughed as he walked up to the guy waiting to order. He didn’t know him so he figured he must be an actual customer, rather than someone sent to come get a coffee.

“Hiya mate, what can I get you?”

The guy looked him up and down and grinned.

“Well I was going to get a coffee to go… but I think I’ll have it here instead and get myself something sweet to go with. What do you recommend?” the guy asked in a heavy Scottish accent.

Robert just about stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know mate, this is my first day. You probably know the menu better than me.”

“I did wonder why I’d never seen you before…” he glanced at the name tag on Robert’s chest. “Robert.”

This time Robert did roll his eyes which only made the guy laugh.

“Look do you want to order or do you want to throw some more bad pick up lines at me to see if I’m crazy enough to fall for them?”

“He’ll have whatever is fast because he has a delivery after lunch that he can’t miss.” Charity walked in, glaring at the guy for a moment before stepping up to the counter and focusing on Robert. “I’ll have a black coffee and the cheese special sandwich. He’s paying.” She nodded at the guy.

“What? You’re my boss, you should be paying for me.”

“I do that. Every month. Via your wages. That I pay you to do work, Mackenzie. I know it’s hard concept for you to grasp but most people actually work for a living, instead of selling stolen gear on the sly, hoping their boss won’t find out.”

Robert laughed to himself as he listened to their argument while making Charity’s order.

“Enjoying being back in the haulage business then?”

“Oh yes. If only this clown wasn’t trying to ruin my business.” Charity glared at the guy. “Or lead my son astray.”

The guy rolled his eyes.

“Ryan is a grown man, Charity, if he wants to go out drinking with me, he can.”

“Yeah, yeah. If you’re not back at the office in an hour, I’m coming to get you.” She warned, slapping a tenner on the counter and leaving with her lunch.

“So you’re Mackenzie then?” Robert asked the guy who flashed him a smile.

“The one and only. But I take it my reputation proceeds me?”

“Well when Charity ranted about a Mackenzie who drove her crazy, I thought it was a little girl with blonde ringlets or pigtails to be honest. Maybe one of Moses’ little friends.”

“I could dye my hair if you like.” The guy grinned. “Not sure it’s long enough for pigtails though.”

Robert laughed.

“Nah I don’t think blond is your colour.” He leaned on the counter, pretending to think deeply about something. “But you don’t look like a Mackenzie either.”

“How about a Mack? Nobody calls me Mackenzie except my sister. And Charity… when she’s angry…”

“So that’s all the time then?” Robert joked.

“Only on days that end in y.”

“And during hours that have 60 minutes in them?”

“Exactly.”

Robert laughed again. He liked the guy.

“Thought as much.” He stood up when he saw more people coming in. “But anyway, what do you want? You’re holding up the queue.”

“I think I’ll have a latte and one of those double chocolate muffins.”

“Alright, sit down, I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

Robert took care of the other orders and got Amy to take over when he saw Ben coming in. The last thing he wanted on his first day of work was come face to face with Aaron’s new boyfriend.

Mack was still waiting for his order so Robert decided to take care of that as an excuse to get out from behind the counter.

“There you go.” He put the cup and the muffin down in front of Mack. “One coffee and one dentist’s worst nightmare and your receipt.”

Mack picked up the cup and laughed when he saw the name Robert had written on it.

“Braveheart?”

“I just think it fits you better.” Robert grinned.

“We should go out for a drink sometime. I reckon the two of us could have a lot of fun out on the town.”

“I’d love to… but I can’t.”

“Why not? Do you have a wife and eight children waiting at home?”

“Hardly.” Robert snorted. “I live with my sister.” He pointed at Vic. “And Amy… and what seems like half the village sometimes… but I can’t leave the house after 9PM or I’ll turn into a pumpkin. And orange really isn’t my colour.” He joked and turned around, coming face to face with Aaron and Ben who had just come in.

---

“Aaron, Aaron, wait a minute.” Vic called out as Aaron walked past her house a few days later.

He’d been avoiding Robert as much as possible and he had a feeling Robert had been doing the same.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Uhm… nothing in particular, why?”

“Do you mind looking after Harry for an hour for me?” she asked. “Rebecca just called me that she’s in Hotten with Seb and asking me to come pick him up because she has things to do… I don’t really know what’s going on but I just put Harry down for a nap and I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Right…. Uhm… can’t Robert look after him? Or David?”

“David is working and Theo is at nursery, but I kept Harry home because he wasn’t feeling well…. And Robert is at his first counselling session…” she trailed off, looking like she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

“He goes to counselling?”

“Court mandated… part of the conditions for his probational release.”

“Right…” Aaron replied, thinking about how it was probably for the best Robert was forced to go to counselling because he wouldn’t have gone himself.

“So can you look after Harry for a bit? I��ll be back as soon as I can and Amy should be home soon too.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Thank you.” Vic said and pulled him into a hug and the two of them went inside. “You’re a lifesaver. He’ll probably sleep the whole time… so just… watch tv and feel free to help yourself to whatever is in the fridge.” She rambled as she rushed around the living room looking for her keys and bag.

“Don’t worry, I have looked after a toddler before. We’ll be fine.” Aaron told her, handing her, her bag from the back of a chair. “Now go. Don’t keep them waiting.”

“Right. Ok. I won’t be long, I promise.” Vic said, rushing out the door.

“Just be careful. I’ve heard crazy things happen near that Hotten bypass.” Aaron joked and watched her get into her car and drive off.

He went back inside and grabbed the baby monitor from the table and listened for any sign Harry might have woken up, but everything was quiet.

He looked around for the remote control and sat down on the sofa, flicking through channels and reminding himself of the horrors of daytime tv. He settled on some kind of gameshow but barely watched it, checking his socials on his phone instead.

After a while he heard some noises coming from the baby monitor and held his breath hoping Harry would go back to sleep.

Only the little boy had a different plan and called out for his mum.

Aaron got up and went upstairs to check on him.

“Hey you.” He walked into the boy’s room and sat down next to his bed. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked about 5 seconds away from crying.

“Mummy?”

“Mummy isn’t here right now… but she’ll be back soon. We can have fun together until she’s back, can’t we?” Aaron said, lifting the boy up out of his bed and realising what the problem was when he noticed the wetness on his pyjama bottoms. “Oh we’ve got some leakage. Yeah that would upset me too. Come on, uncle Aaron to the rescue. Let’s see where your mummy keeps the nappies.”

He got Harry cleaned up and changed while trying to cheer him up. Only the boy kept giving him wary looks and didn’t seem too sure of the whole situation.

“Right. I think we did a pretty good job with that, didn’t we?” Aaron said, tickling Harry’s tummy as he pulled a shirt over his head. “I know you don’t know me very well… but I promise you, I’m one of the good guys.” He smiled at the boy and ruffled his curls. “Your mummy and your uncle Robert are very special to me.” He picked him up and put him in his hip as he heard the door open downstairs. “I bet that’s your mummy now. Come on, let’s go see her.”

Aaron carefully made his way down the stairs with Harry in his arms.

“Hey Vic, he had a little accident so I changed him but I didn’t know where you - ”

He stopped mid-sentence when he stepped off the bottom step and saw not Vic but Robert standing there.

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

“Uhm… Vic uh had some errands to run and she’d just gotten him off to sleep… so uh she asked me to keep an eye on him.” Aaron explained even though Robert hadn’t asked.

“Ok.” Robert replied and Aaron watched him put his unopened beer back in the fridge.

“So… uhm… how are you?”

Robert shrugged.

“I’m out. That’s as good as it gets for now.”

Aaron nodded and chewed his lip.

“Uhm… about the other day… with Liv…”

Robert sighed.

“I got the message, Aaron, don’t worry, I’ll stay out of everything.”

“No! I mean… I just… I… shouldn’t have been so hard on you… you were only trying to help.” Aaron said, remembering the massive fight with Liv he’d had after Robert had left.

“Yeah…” Robert nodded. “But I get it. I only heard her version of events… I don’t know what else went down or what she did to you… I shouldn’t have told you what to do.”

Aaron nodded.

“Still. Thanks for being there for her.”

“Of course. Always.” Robert vowed. “Just because I’ve been away doesn’t mean I don’t care about her anymore. How is she now?”

“Trying to stay sober. She’s signed up for this online support group and I think Laurel’s helping her. She got her a job at the Hop actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… just… cleaning and stuff. No bar work so she won’t be tempted.”

“Good. That’s good. I hope she can do it. Stay sober I mean…”

“I’ll tell her that.”

They stood in an awkward silence again, neither of them sure what to say.

Robert cleared his throat.

“Uhm… I was just going to make a brew… do you want one too or do you have to go?”

Aaron realised Robert was giving him an out.

“No, I’ve got time for a brew.”

---

“Aaron where are you?” Ben said frustrated when he got Aaron’s voicemail for the 15th time in as many minutes. “We were supposed to have lunch together remember? Because I have the afternoon off… but you never showed up? Just… call me when you get this.”

He ended the call and looked around, hoping to see Aaron walk down the street.

“Ethan! Hey. Have you seen Aaron?” He asked Ethan who seemed to be coming from the direction of Mill Cottage.

“No… sorry… but I haven’t exactly been paying attention…” Ethan replied, smiling at the guy walking next to him.

“Right… if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Isn’t he at work? Most people are this time of day.” the guy next to Ethan suggested.

“No, I already checked. There was nobody there.”

“Well if we see him, we’ll tell him to call you.” Ethan promised and the two of them walked away, leaving Ben alone with his frustrations.

Just as he was about to try Aaron’s mobile again, he saw Victoria walking down the street.

“Victoria!” he rushed over to her. “You haven’t seen Aaron, have you?”

“Oh yeah, he’s at mine, looking after Harry for me for a bit.” Vic told him, leaving out certain details.

“He is? Oh… ok… I uh… we were supposed to meet up. I took the afternoon off so we could spend some time together.”

Vic smiled.

“Must have slipped his mind. I kind of sprung Harry on him at the last second.”

“Right… so he’s still at yours then?”

“Yeah, until I come relieve him from his babysitting duties.” Vic laughed a little. “But I have to get some supplies for tea now because his lordship wants chips with dinosaur nuggets.”

“Can’t go wrong with those, I loved them as a kid.”

“Yeah me too.”

“Do you need a hand maybe? I can help carry the bags for you if you like?”

“Oh that would be great. Thank you very much.”

“So… I bet you’re happy to have your brother home again?” Ben asked casually, falling into step beside Vic.

“Yeah it’s great. He’s settling back in really well and catching up with old friends and even making new ones.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, he gets on well with Mackenzie. Moira’s brother. Do you know him?”

“I think I’ve seen him around.”

“Yeah and he likes his new job. It’s so nice to work together again. I’ve missed him.”

They walked into the shop where David attempted to have a video call with Jacob and Leanna.

“Jake mate you keep breaking up. Where are you guys now? Are you still in Greece?”

“No, Egypt! Leanna (…) pyramids.”

“Egypt? Is that safe?”

“I’m sure they’re being careful.” Vic stepped into view of the camera and waved. “Hi guys. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah it’s great! Egypt is wonderful.” Leanna gushed.

They chatted for a few minutes, with Leanna showing off some jewellery she’d bought.

“And this is for the baby. We bought it at this market yesterday. It’s so cute.” She held up a teddy bear dressed in a brightly coloured outfit and holding some kind of ball. “It doubles as a rattle so my little brother or sister can drive dad and Leyla mad with it.”

All four of them laughed until Vic remembered why she’d come into the shop in the first place.

“You two have fun out there, I have to get chips and dinosaur nuggets for the boys or I’ll have a riot on my hands at home.” She said, only half joking and said goodbye before turning back to Ben. “Sorry about the wait.”

“It’s fine.” Ben replied with a tight smile.

She quickly grabbed what she needed, with David waving her off when she wanted to pay, saying he’d put it on her tab.

“Are you coming over tonight?” she asked him.

“For chips and nuggets? Just try keeping me away.” He joked and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

“Maybe you could bring a bottle of wine… for dessert.” Vic suggested. “And your toothbrush… so we can have a sleepover.”

“Eww gross. I don’t want to know these things about my dad!” Jacob protested, making David blush and Vic laugh and kiss him again. “See you later.” She called out to him as she left the shop, followed by Ben.

“So… things are going well for the two of you then.” Ben said as they made their way over to Vic’s house.

“Yeah, we’re really happy. It’s crazy, I’ve known him for years but I never really saw him like that until we had Harry and Theo and they became friends. I guess having a child really does change you. It really changed the way I look at him. I never saw him with small children, you know… but he loves Theo so much and he’s such a good dad to him. And he and Harry adore each other too. I mean it’s early days still… but maybe Harry will end up calling him daddy and Jacob can be his big brother. We’ll be this little mix and match family.” Vic gushed, digging her keys out of her purse. “I mean, who cares about biology anymore, right? If it feels like family, it’s family.”

“Yeah… exactly…” Ben agreed somewhat distracted.

“Hi boys! I’m back!” Vic called out walking into the house, leaving the door open for Ben.

“You took your time.” Aaron’s voice came from somewhere in the house.

“Yeah I got distracted, sorry.”

“Distracted. Right. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Robert teased and Ben started to panic. “She was just snogging David.” Robert continued and started making kissing sounds.

Ben was still standing in the doorway and when he heard a child laughing, he assumed it was Harry.

“Your daddy is being silly.” Vic said, unpacking her shopping.

“No, no I reckon daddy Robert is right.” Aaron joked. “I think auntie Vic and David were all kissy, kissy, kissy.” He made kissing sounds too and this time Ben knew the laughing child was Seb.

“You three are impossible.” Vic told them. “He was talking to Jacob and Leanna and I said hello too.”

“Yeah that’s what I would say too.” Robert joked and Ben heard laughing again.

“Oh shut up you. At least Harry is still on my side, aren’t you sweetie?”

“You can’t ask him that, Vic. He can’t say anything but yes now.” Aaron protested. “Don’t worry Harry, uncle Aaron will keep your secrets.”

“What secrets?”

“Oh nothing. Just me and Harry having a catch up this afternoon.”

Ben walked further into the house and Vic turned around like she’d just remembered he was there.

“Oh Aaron, I ran into Ben, he was looking for you.”

“Right. Thanks.” Aaron said, sounding a lot more serious than he had a moment before.

“Hey…” Ben walked into the room and saw Harry in Aaron’s lap and Seb on the sofa next to him, while Robert was sat in the armchair.

Aaron sat up and moved Harry out of his lap.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. We were supposed to spend the afternoon together remember? I waited for ages at the Hop.”

“Shit. Sorry. I completely forgot. Vic needed help with Harry and it… just slipped my mind.”

“Daddy said a bad word.” Seb said softly, looking back and forth between Robert and Aaron.

“I know. But he’s sorry and he won’t do it again.” Robert told the boy.

“I called you a million times.” Ben continued.

Aaron glanced at his phone on the table.

“Oh… sorry… I put it on silent… I didn’t want to risk waking Harry up from his nap.”

Ben nodded and Robert wondered when Aaron had learnt to lie so easily. He’d seen him hit ignore at least twice before turning the ringtone off and dropping it on the table, claiming it wasn’t important and they’d leave a message.

“Well uh… I uh… should get going.” Aaron got up, ruffled Harry’s curls and kissed the top of Seb’s head. “See you soon.”

“But… daddy we have chips!”

“I know mate… but another time, yeah?”

“Are you sure? We have plenty.” Vic asked. “For you too, Ben.” She added as an afterthought.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not too keen on chips.”

“Yeah… now is not a good time Vic… but thanks for the offer.” Aaron said, walking out the door with Ben, with a quick wave goodbye to Seb before closing the door behind him.

#robron #robron fic #robert sugden #aaron dingle #victoria sugden #my writing

16 notes · View notes

accioxreparo · 4 years

Text

the Talk | g.w.

part one // baby fever | part two // the Talk

synopsis: You and George did everything young. It was only fitting that you two talk about having kids when you did.

pairing: George Weasley x reader

warnings: brief mentions of the war, a touch of angst but mostly fluff

a/n: wow this is ended up being so much longer than originally planned. I really wanted to get in more backstory though so here we are. Let me know what you guys think about the format cause...I kinda like this little hybrid thing?

~~~~~~

You and George did everything young.

You had just turned 13 years old when the two of you went on your first date.

It was the summer before your third year and the two of you snuck out one night to go to a festival happening in a neighboring muggle town. You still have the moon shaped necklace George had bought you that day. He still has the sun shaped one you bought him. The gifts weren’t planned but it was the first time you saw how truly perfect the two of you were together.

You had your first kiss a few weeks later the day you returned to Hogwarts. It was in one of the courtyards and there was nobody else around. Now the details of it were a little fuzzy but you could still remember the awkwardness of it all.

The first time you talked about getting married was at 16.

It was more playful than anything else. You’d both drunk just a bit too much firewhiskey during the post-Yule Ball party thrown in one of the abandoned rooms. You’d toppled over together on one of the couches in the common room and you found yourself giggling when you saw how George was staring at you. “What are you thinking about?”

He had pulled you on top of him, resting his hands on your hips as he peppered kisses all over your face. Finally he pressed a soft kiss on your lips and gave you a dopey sort of grin.

“About how pretty you look. And about how one day we’re going to be dancing just like we did today but you’ll be wearing this huge, puffy white dress that you can’t stand but that you wore because my mum said you looked like a princess in it. And I’ll be wearing my fanciest dress robes or maybe a normal suit. Either way it won’t matter because I won’t look anywhere near as good as you will.”

You had smiled and kissed him again, a little longer this time. When you pulled away your forehead rested on his and you both had to resist the urge to just forget the conversation and continue the kiss. “That’s a wedding you’re talking about, Georgie.”

“I know,” He had said it with complete ease. “We’re going to have one of those for us one day.”

It was only a few months later, now at the age of 17, when George decided he was going to ask you to marry him for real.

Ever since the end of the Triwizard tournament he’d been filled with this nauseating feeling that nothing, absolutely nothing at all, was guaranteed.

The events of that day were stuck in his mind. He could remember the feeling of you shaking in his arms as you cried upon finding out Cedric had died. He could remember being confused at your reaction until you told him the two of you had been friends once but you couldn’t remember the last time you had a real conversation with him

It was with a completely clear mind that he got out of bed at precisely 6:21 AM and wandered through the house until he found his mother sitting at the kitchen table reading the newest edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Can I talk to you?” George had asked before she got the chance to say anything.

Molly had immediately grown concerned by the much too serious look on his face. Not to mention the fact that he’d never once asked a question like that. Nonetheless she still put down the paper, smiled softly, and put her full attention on him. “Absolutely, dear.”

“What if I,” George had avoided all eye contact, instead focusing on fiddling with the hem of his shirt, one he’d only just stolen back from you. The thought made him smile, giving him the courage he needed to finish asking his question. “What if I asked Y/N to marry me?”

That definitely hadn’t been what Molly was expecting him to say. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t see it coming though. For six years now she’d seen the way he was around you. For four years you’d been tied at the hip, bringing out the best in each other. This felt like just the right step. “Well you’re both of age now if that’s what you want to do.”

“But what do you think about it?” That was the part he was really nervous for. “I don’t want to wait any longer. After everything that happened this year I just want something I know is good and real. Something that,” His voice is softer then, more vulnerable. It surprises even himself. “Something that nobody else can take away from me.”

And Molly understands completely. She’s been there before, seen all of this happen once already. There’s not a single part of her that wants to argue because she trusts and believes in both him and you wholeheartedly.

So she gently rests a hand on top of George’s, which are still pulling at his shirt, and he looks up to see her smiling at him. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

He asked you that same night.

He actually didn’t even make it halfway through breakfast before telling Fred, Ron, and Ginny, all of whom were completely ecstatic. They loved you after all.

The four of them had been bouncing ideas off each other all day long while Molly had disappeared into the attic to dig through a bunch of boxes, not telling any of them what she was looking for.

They’ve got no less than five different speeches and approaches planned by the time Arthur gets home from work. Nobody can get the news out fast enough and though he’s a little surprised, he expresses his own joy at the news. He helps them brainstorm and soon they have a sixth plan thought out.

“When are you gonna do it then?” Ginny is the one who asked excitedly. “Don’t know. Soon I guess,” George glances at the time and stands up. “Actually supposed to meet her at some place in London in a few.”

He disappeared up the stairs to find where he left the address you’d given him and just as he’s found it Molly walks into the room.

She hands him the object she’d been searching for. A ring with a diamond in the middle and golden flowers laced all around the band. One she says has been passed down through the Prewett family for as long as anyone can remember.

He takes it with a soft thank you and a smile telling her it’s perfect as he pockets it, too afraid to leave it lying around.

When he gets to the address you gave him he’s a little surprised when he finds you sitting on the sidewalk with a book in your hands. It’s with an amused grin that you pull out your wand and before he knows it a building is appearing out of nowhere. You tell him it’s 12 Grimmauld Place, the House of Black, and that’s where you’ve been for a few days now helping Sirius, Remus, and Tonks fix it up

The entire time he’s there, exploring the rooms and wandering the halls beside you, the ring lies in his pocket and it feels heavy, as if reminding him it’s there.

He actually didn’t mean to ask you when he did.

You were right there though and the ring was in his pocket and he couldn’t think of anything else.

You were both curled up on the couch in the living room. There was that familiar light, a glint in your eyes that he absolutely adored seeing and you were telling him a story about what had happened the day before while at Tonks place with a huge smile on your face and he just couldn’t help himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him again when you found him staring at you, much like that night just a few months ago. This time, though, you were both completely clear headed.

“About how I want to ask you to marry me.”

That caught your attention. Almost immediately you felt butterflies grow in your stomach and slowly you sat up, turning to face him. George was completely serious. You were at a strange loss for words. “You - I - what?”

He gave a soft laugh at the confused look on your face and sat up himself, pulling the ring out of his pocket as he did so.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what to feel because after the tournament it's like every moment is fleeting. Everything suddenly feels temporary and that scares me. There’s only one thing I do know and that’s that I don’t want this, us, to be temporary. Every single thing that I feel for you, that’s all real. It always has been. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me, I’ve never been more certain of anything else in my life. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“I-” You’re at a loss for words and also painfully aware of three very shocked people standing in the doorway of the room. Despite the surprise you know your answer right away. You’re absolutely positive this is what you want too. “Yes.”

George hadn’t been planning to ask then and he hadn’t really thought of how he would react. So he can’t help but be happily surprised when you agree. “What?”

“Yes, you tosser,” You laugh and happily kiss him, effectively bringing him back down to earth, though he swears he’s still dreaming. It seems too good to be true. “I’ll marry you.”

The memory of you two getting engaged isn’t just of you two in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s also of Sirius and Tonks shouting and jumping around in excitement before either of you can get another word out and of Remus scolding them both about ruining your moment.

It’s your favorite memory of them.

Especially because less than a year later, still at only 17, just a couple days before your birthday and a month before you’re to be married, Sirius died.

He was perhaps one of the only people you had never once doubted. All it took was you giving him wide, puppy dog eyes and he was immediately rendered incapable of lying to you, a fact even he found amusing.

He and Remus were both named your godfathers for a reason and you knew that very well. Even as a child you would brave the halls of Azkaban just to go see him no matter how much Remus didn’t want you to. He couldn’t argue with you, though, because he always ended up giving in much too easily.

You trusted Sirius with your life and he’d wasted too many years inside that prison and maybe that was why you had asked him to walk you down the aisle. To remind him of what was good and pure and happy.

He never got that reminder. Instead you were burying him the weekend after your birthday.

George had been at a loss about how to comfort you over Cedric’s death and he was at an even bigger loss now. He himself had grown rather close to Sirius over the last few months while spending late nights awake with the two of you and struggled to deal with the news of his death alongside you.

You guys have a strong support system though. There’s never a moment either of you is alone and you know that. It hurts to have to move on but you do.

If anything you’re more certain than ever before that this, your wedding, marrying George is exactly what you want.

So you do it. At 18, a month after the date you had originally planned, you and George get married.

It happens in the large backyard of the cottage you’d grown up in with Remus. It’s late summer and the tree in the backyard is covered in blossoms and you could not have imagined a more perfect place to have your wedding.

The ceremony and reception were meant to be small and intimate and they are but they also end up more extravagant than you could’ve imagined. You find out as all the decor and outfits and food is arriving that Sirius had taken the liberty of getting you and George only the absolute best.

You’re sure you’re handling the last surprise you have from him well until the day before the wedding. You’re in the backyard alongside Molly, Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, Fleur, and Andromeda when you get an unexpected visit from a goblin from Gringotts. He hands you an envelope and a small brown package and tells you that they were given instructions in Sirius’ will to deliver it to you.

You break down the moment you open the letter to see loopy handwriting that you recognize immediately

Y/N, I understand that you wanted your wedding to be more about the two of you and less about the decorations. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that there’s no time like the present. I like to think you’ve picked that up from me and of that I’m proud. Therefore I hope you don’t mind me spicing things up a little. Oh and these are my gift to you because my favorite goddaughter will have the best if I have anything to say about it. And her soon to be husband too I guess and I like him, I really do, but these are mostly for you. Hope you like them as much as I liked picking everything out. -Love, Sirius

Your hands shake as you open the package to find a pair of elaborately engraved wedding bands, the ones you’re to use tomorrow

And you have to laugh because even when he’s not there anymore Sirius really does just know you that well. They’re perfect and you’re positive he knew that when he picked them out. A little card falls out of the envelope and you smile through your tears at his final note to you.

You’re ready.

Everything you and George did you did young so it was tragically fitting when the war came around and you two were only 19 years old

Even now, only a year after everything ended, you remember the plots and the fights and the flashes of light coming at you from every direction.

You remember running for your life and hiding in whatever corner you could. You remember not being sure if your friends were dead or alive.

But most of all you remember everything you lost.

Remus. Tonks. Fred. Sirius. Cedric.

In just a year it seemed like everything had been torn from your hands, your world turned upside down. It took you a while to properly grieve what you lost.

You had George, though.

And yes, there were nights where neither of you could sleep, still clearly hearing the echoing of loud bangs all around you, flinching at even the smallest movements with your wand gripped tightly in your hand, but never once were you alone.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask George one night after a particularly bad nightmare. Your face was stained with dry tears, your eyes bloodshot, and when you spoke your voice was hoarse. He had wrapped you in his arms tightly and held you until you stopped crying. You felt safe with him. It made the nightmare of losing him alongside everybody else that much worse. You wanted to hear his voice. Needed to hear it. Needed to know he was still there.

“About how much I love you,” George had answered honestly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “And about how we’re going to be okay.”

You knew how to handle loss now, that was simply a side effect of the war.

Just a few months after the fight at Hogwarts you were taking a position at St. Mungo’s to help those also struggling with everything after the war

Now, a little over a year later, you were spearheading major changes in St. Mungo’s, helping to make all sorts of care more readily available. Everything from providing wolfsbane to those who couldn’t afford the ingredients on their own to support programs for everyone, adults and children alike.

You’d been busy and maybe that’s why you put off having The Talk with George at first. But eventually two weeks passed by and nothing had changed. There was still an ache that filled your body every time you dropped Teddy back off with Andromeda. That weekend when you were all at the Burrow you didn’t even realize you were practically glued to Fleur’s side.

You also don’t notice the way George is watching you every time you hold Vic in your arms. This image of a little toddler running around your apartment with his hair and your eyes keeps playing in his mind and he smiles every time.

It’s not until you two get home late that night that you try to work up the nerve to bring up the topic. You’re sitting on the couch, comfortably leaning against George while some music plays in the background

“What are you thinking about?” George asks when he sees the look on your face. He can read you inside and out and knows you’re conflicted about something. He’s just not too sure what it’s about though he has a vague idea.

You turn to look at him and figure now is as good a time as any to tell him what you’ve been thinking. “About how I want us to have a baby.”

For a second he doesn’t say anything, simply taking a moment to mull over your words. Finally he shifts a little bit so it’s easier to bring you closer. “Y/N, love -”

“I think it’s the right time,” You start talking again before George can continue. “I know you’re trying to expand the shop and I have a ton of things going on at work but I really do think we can do this. I thought it was just cause we’ve been around Teddy and Vic so much lately but it’s more than that. I think it at least warrants a conversation. I can’t imagine making a family with anybody else.”

A silence hangs in the room but its not uncomfortable. Slowly a small, partially amused smile grows on George’s face and he only stares at you as if waiting for you to say something else. “Are you done?”

He watches you nod and bite your lip, a nervous habit you’ve had for as long as he can remember. He reaches forward and gently removes your bottom lip from between your teeth, still holding your face in his hands so you’re looking right at him. Then he kisses you softly and when he pulls away he smiles at the sight of your eyes still closed, a relaxed look on your face.

“I was actually going to agree with you since I’ve been thinking the same thing.” George admits, laughing as you beam up at him excitedly. “As long as you’re ready to do this I think it’s worth trying.”

Honestly you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe a talk about how you’re both still young, some mention of the fact that you were both doing a lot at the moment. But you and George are on the same page. A baby of your own is something you both want and you suppose that’s the way it should be.

“Alright,” Your smile widens and you’re the one who kisses him again. He’s as excited about this as you are, you can tell. “Looks like we’re gonna try to have a baby.”

#oof that awkward moment when you forget to add tags #okay here we go now #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #my fics #fic: baby fever #fic: the talk

216 notes · View notes

strangerobin · 3 years

Text

Rue: Chapter 6 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

Part 6

A plan of sorts that leaves neither parties thrilled.

She was still waiting for a sign.

On occasions, Adeline felt watched and the unease in her heart refused to subside. Something was about to happen to break this faux peace, she was sure; but just what it was she had no clue. And the more time had passed, the more on edge and paranoid she got, going so far as to snapping at poor Loreen for the smallest of things. She hated herself more than ever.

In the end, the sign she had been waiting for came in the form of flowers.

Cornflowers to be exact.

A bouquet was left in the early morning on the doorsteps of their little shared house. No one had heard the deliverer. Anakin and Teddy were away, engaging in their own businesses. Loreen was still tucked safely in her little fort of plushies and rag dolls. Adeline had merely opened the door to enjoy some fresh air and was instead met with a bouquet of cornflowers arranged with utmost care.

Your eyes are the colour of cornflowers.

A man she loved once told her. So she was reminded of.

Holding the bouquet as far away from herself as possible, she chucked the bouquet straight into the trash and went about her day as if nothing happened. As if she wasn’t bouncing her leg non-stop while watching reruns on TV, or how distracted she was, or how Loreen kept shooting worried glances at her. As if she wasn’t practically vibrating anxiety off her being.

The flowers never stopped. Every morning a fresh batch was laid on the doorsteps, Loreen even managed to steal some and displayed them in a pretty little vase in her room. Out of spite, Adeline thought. She tried to stay vigilant and stand guard at the door, but then they would only appear elsewhere around the house. She knew then that there was no running from this.

Adeline would bet good money on who her secret admirer (stalker) was. She did not remember him as a stubborn man; but from the persistence of his action she had gathered what game he was playing at. This was an open challenge issued to her, a taunt, he wouldn’t confront her upfront. No, he was patient with his schemes and would strike only when the hour was ripe; he was the predator and her the prey now. And she was so so tempted to rise to the bait. But she must keep her cool, and not loose her mind. He might loose his interest in her yet.

In a century or two. Her treacherous mind taunted mercilessly.

Oh but how wrong was she.

The next taunt came the next day in the form of a book, Frankenstein.

Specifically, the exact copy of the cheap paperback edition she had left behind in Whitehorse months ago.

In a fit of hysterics, she threw open the front door and went all the way up to the front yard and bellowed into the empty countryside. “Leave me the fuck alone you sick bastard!”

Only later did she start to question.

How did he find her? How did he manage to track her down from Whitehorse to Minnesota and now Colorado? She was confident of her concealment ability.

So then, how?

From a distance, Jasper watched the girl sitting at the front porch, lacing up her roller skates. The child turned her heard, seemingly to answer someone inside the house before finishing up the rest of her laces. Then in trepidation she tested water with the first few step, before gaining confidence and propelling herself forward into the open road.

In her flowy sundress and a light cardigan, seemingly not minding the alpine chill, the child spread out her arms and laughed with her head thrown back, as if she were soaring amongst the wind instead. She seemed like any other child, if it weren’t for her scent, and that luminous skin in the morning light.

Jasper casually got out of his car and leaned against it, unsubtly observing the girl. That seemed to catch the child’s attention as she eyed him suspiciously while zipping past the first time; before turning round at the end of the drive and passing by again. If she was scared then she hardly showed it. After a few back and forth, she finally slowed a few meters from Jasper and regarded him cooly.

“Who are you?” Her asked in a sing-song voice. “If you’re here to sell cable or insurance or fire resistant something, we’re not interested.”

“Ah I see so you are the Madame of the house then, little lady.” Jasper chuckled and watched as the child pouted and crossed her arms, petulant at the name. Yes, she was like one of those children too smart for their own good, sharp witted but quick to anger. And much too trusting. “Fear not, I am only a friend. Tell me, do you live here with family?”

“Half siblings.” The child corrected.

“And is not your half-sister called Adeline?”

“And you are?”

“A long time... friend.” He hesitated after a second.

“Oh?” Now her voice was laced with suspicion.

Jasper smiled charismatically and exerted an air of reassurance over the child. “Do you think you can send a message from me to her?”

The child frowned, clearly reluctant. “Couldn’t you do it yourself? If you really are her friend. She’s in a mood these days and I don't want to cross anymore than I need to.”

“I don’t think she’d like to see me for now.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was not in fact stalking the said person, but simply had a disagreement with her over a conversation during bar night.

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

“What’s in this for me?”

Jasper bowed his head respectfully. “Of course there will be payment on my part. I shall be forever in your debt.”

She pursed her lips and pondered on the request thoughtfully. “If I am to be messenger,” She began slowly. “I’d like a year’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s. And a year’s subscription of Netflix!” She looked so haughty then, so proud of herself for striking a deal that he had to chuckle.

“Oh little lady.” He said in between laughs, somehow adoring the sweet innocence of the child. “You drive a hard bargain don’t you? Yes of course I promise.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. “Cross may heart and hope to die.”

That seemed to satisfy the child and she grinned cheekily at him, no doubt pleased with her little bargain of free ice cream and Netflix films.

“Here.” He produced from his pocket a single map. And handed it to the girl. She eyed it suspiciously before taking in gingerly, their hands briefly touching. If she noticed his ice cold skin then she did not make a remark.

Instead her eyes flickered back to him and she chewed on her lips thoughtfully before finally opening her mouth. “I hope... I hope whatever it is between the two of you, all will be well soon.”

Momentarily caught surprised, Jasper straightened his stance and looked to the house in the distance with longing and tenderness.

“Yes I hope so too.”

“Oh Lorie you’re finally back. Fun time roller skating?”

Adeline was sitting on the sofa, in a bathrobe with blankets wrapped all around herself up to her head flipping through the channels at top speed.

“I met a friend of yours down the street.” Loreen announced.

“Friend? What friend-”

“Jasper.”

She froze at the name.

“Come again?”

“Jasper was here and he wanted me to pass on a message to you.” Loreen stated as-a-matter-of-factly and handed over the old map. She scrutinised her sister; watched as her face blanched before being replaced by red hot fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Adeline bellowed, crumpling the map into a tight little wall. “Where is he? Is he still out there now?!”

Loreen shrugged, trying to convey the message that she was just as clueless as the other was. “I’m sure he’s only just left.”

Adeline bolted out of the doors at once.

“Jasper!” She yelled like a lunatic, and searched frantically, not giving a fig what the neighbours would think. She had other pressing matters to be concerned of.

How dare he! How dare he approached her family, especially her innocent sister! He had already shattered her little peaceful life! That she could tolerate, and she supposed to some extent, she was reaping what she had sowed years ago. But preying on her young sister like that! He had no right! Absolutely no right! How dare he!

Hidden under the shades of the woods she took off in a blur, trying to locate the man. But the faint smell she caught whiff of indicated that he had long since been gone.

Still livid, she stomped her way back to the house.

First the flowers, then the book and now this map. Jasper; yes she was finally going to acknowledge this, that he was the same man she had met all those years ago, and that yes he was a fucking vampire now! And one with no fucking sense of boundaries! His message was clear and simple.

Don’t think that you’ve been forgotten. I know where you are and I will find you, whatever it takes. Or you can come to me, on your terms. You know where to find me.

She spread the crumpled map out.

Washington.

It was a state map of fucking Washington!

Like a flame being doused with ice cold water, she finally realised her mistake all those months ago. The hybrid child she had met in the clearing… That was how he had come to know of her. There was no doubt of it now. The child must have told her coven of their meeting, and either he was part of the coven, or he was on intimate terms with them. Either way, she had damned herself that day when she had decided not to trust her instincts to stay inland. And like dominoes, a little push had unknowingly caused the whole system to collapse on its own, the shockwaves continuing to reverberate in the aftermath of the disastrous meeting.

Adeline cursed and screamed in frustration.

Stupid! Stupid! She was so stupid! What was she to do now?! Engage? And she would be falling right into his laps without a fight. Run? But for how long? He had proven himself more than capable of tracking her somehow, it would be all for naught. He had a coven; and she had only her siblings. Siblings whom never got involved with her affairs, nor did she wish to involve into the mess. And especially not her youngest.

Frustrated, she flipped the map to find an actual written message penned in impeccable cursive handwriting. Which got her blood boiling immediately.

Do you have what it takes?

Self-righteous bastard! Well she’ll show him!

Adeline was in and out of the house in a flash, clothes changed. “Addie where are you going?” Loreen was by the door, obviously concerned.

“I’m going.” Her reply was short, clipped.

“At least wait for Anakin or Teddy.”

“No Loreen. I have to go. You’ll be fine on your own right?” Adeline tried to smile to relieve the tension, but evidently the tight-lipped smile only succeeded in agitating her sister more.

“I suppose yes. But-"

“Stay safe dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And she was out.

She refused to address her other concerns; like what did he want by actively seeking her out, or how did he even find her when she had made sure all her tracks were concealed? What did it mean for the two of them now that the other was all along alive and well? What would it entail for either parties from here on? What would father even do should he learn of this?

All of the what ifs and hows and whys were all overshadowed by her high-strung emotions. Her action was spurred into motion and further fulled by her fury at her former lover. Really, she lacked even a concrete plan of engagement which she seemed to be forgetting repeatedly in favour of the raging anger within her.

One she had not felt in years now.

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Edward asked.

“I’m sure.” Was Jasper’s curt reply, even if the doubt was weighing heavily down on his heart. He was back in Forks, back with his family where there was still some semblance of safety and control.

For nights, he had sat outside of Adeline’s little house in his car, just thinking and formulating, the best ways to engage her. He could knock on her door right then and there, and no doubt she would lose her shit, and everything would be fucked. Or he could catch her attention and lure her out back to where he felt safest, and should she decide to come along with then he would engage accordingly. At that time it felt like a decent plan, but now that he was home, the plan seemed stupid. Either way seemed like it would end pretty badly. In the end, he had made his escape early, had not stayed to see Adeline’s reaction at his subtle message. For fear of rejection, for fear of being unable to bear the disappointment.

He was such a coward.

And now he watched as his brother grimaced and frowned, clearly hesitating whether to speak his mind out or not, before finally making his mind up. “It’s just… are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Jasper said feigning ignorance.

“You’re taunting her.” Edward stared him straight in the eye, somewhat sternly. “Is this any way to court the girl you like?”

“Well, says the man who stalked his then classmate in her bedroom every night.” He shot back with barb, clearly annoyed.

Edward’s face soured and immediately stalked off the other way.

Offended.

Jasper sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his tangled hair, emotions all over the place. He knew he was an unwelcome presence in the house lately, practically vibrating off anxiety within a mile radius and affecting anyone within. It made the others nervous, stressed even. And everyone avoided him like the plague.

Bella and Edward had taken Renesmee to their little cottage so that the little one would not be affected. Carlisle had taken to working long hour shifts at the hospital and God knows where Rose and Emmett were.

And Alice... Alice was distancing herself from him.

She had taken to avoiding him, bluntly. She was never in the same room as he was. Had stopped being affectionate like she used to. Their interactions were reduced to light pats on his shoulder, fleeting hand touches, tight-lipped smiles that never quite reached her eyes. She was clearly hurting regardless of what she proclaimed. And to make matters worse, it was fracturing the family.

Emmett’s the-devil-may-care attitude can be reassuring, but Rosalie’s disdain at him was dully noted. Bella was torn and Edward was still suspicious of Adeline but somewhat more understanding of his predicament, although apparently he had just pissed off his last comrade. Carlisle and Esme were only concerned for the two of them, no doubt wanting the best for the pair of them.

And there was nothing he could do.

Alice had made the decision for the two of them.

But it tortured him as much as it killed her. She was the light in his pitiful life for years, his beacon in the dark night. She would never forgive him for all his betrayals just as he could never forgive himself for being the one to hurt her,

And now it pained him just as much to think of Adeline, of his plan to lure her out. He had known her like the back of his own hand then. Though what an irony that felt now. The one he had meant to share his life with, ended up being the one he had known the least.

While she can be sweet and lively, her temper seemed to have a mind of its own. And her heart always dominated in any decisions she made. She was open to persuasion, but would never bend to anyone’s will by force. Would react badly and lash out if forced.

And he had forced her hand.

Adeline would come, she must. Because if she did not, what then? He could go back to Alice and begged for her to take him back or he could continue hunting Adeline down, but then what? He could not force her into anything against her will, he would not. While he was no saint, he certainly was no monster to force himself onto her. She had only need to say the words, with steel in her resolve and he would begone as she requested, forever.

And should she have changed?

It had been more one and a half century since their parting, he had changed much. How did he expect her to remain the same? How did he expect her to remain steadfast in their love? Or its lack thereof?

He was torn between being content with simple ordinariness, or pursuing something more, something all encompassing and consuming, but also elusive which might end up being a gamble for nothing.

Either required him to make a blind leap of faith, though one was certainly more perilous than the other.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." He finally admitted aloud to Edward's retreating form, watched as the man turned to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "I have the choice... I have the choice to move on like she did, or I can continue to pursue her to the ends of the world, like some psychopathic stalker vampire..."

"But you don't want to be neither." Edward sighed sympathetically.

"No."

"And yet you don't want to let her go either."

"No, I don't either."

Jasper shot his brother a bittersweet smile before lapsing into silence. It felt embarrassing to tell Edward of his inner most thoughts, but at the same time there was something cathartic in finally sharing with someone what he thought.

"If there's anything I learnt from being with Bella," Edward said after a moment of thought. "It's that every relationship requires the investment of both parties. It's useless if she doesn't reciprocate your feeling."

Jasper quirked his lips ruefully. "Alice seems to think otherwise."

"Alice can't see the hybrid's future."

"No but I told her we might be soulmates."

"Well are you?"

"I don't know... I think so."

Jasper looked up to see Edward with a smug smirk aimed at him. "Well what do we have here? The cold and calculating Major Whitlock stumped for once because he's confused what to do with his lover-"

"Edward!" He protested loudly.

Ed laughed with mirth before holding up his hands in surrender. "I digress." Then his demeanor turned serious again. "Like I said, it requires two people to be in love. A soulmate bond doesn't automatically make her fall in love with you and vice versa. At the end of the day, it's just a bond. It ties the two of you together in this life, you can feel her, might even need her. But at the end of the day, it's for the both of you to decide if the both of you want to purse a more serious relationship, no?"

Jasper looked away, not wanting to meet his brother's intense gaze.

Had he considered what she wanted?

He loved her, still. But did she want him in the same way?

"I... tell me what I should do then?"

The proposition pained him physically and mentally and Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.

But Edward only looked at him with a tenderness and pity in his eyes.

"Do what's right, brother. Don't make it a regret of yours for eternity."

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #twilight #twilight imagine

20 notes · View notes

sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

peter learns to shut the fuck up challenge

oh my god hi okay i’m (kind of) freshly back to tumblr and haven’t written content like this in over half a decade please be nice to me i am a broken 21 year old who can’t take criticism for shit

marvel cinematic universe: peter!centric, eventually starker

content: graphic depictions of violence, extremis!flash, selective mutism, brief talks of dying but it’s not that bad tbh, slightly aged up peter (he’s 18), use of slurs and derogatory terms, both in reference to self and someone else

summary: peter’s taken enough shit in his life. he lost his parents, he lost ben, he’s dealt with the number of shitty men may brought home - flash was like the cherry on top of the shit sundae. after a particularly bad day of taunting, peter is fed up, and decides to teach flash a lesson - but our baby boy is in for a big surprise when he discovers he isn’t the only freak kid at midtown tech.

............................................................................................................................

Peter'd been categorized as a loudmouth for years - by May, his friends at school, the Avengers he fought (and fought beside) in Berlin.

Never able to stop his nervous ramblings, his mouth tended to run away with him. He somehow never developed a filter, often getting himself into quite a bit of trouble. Usually his pretty face and quick thinking kept him from any real repercussions.

But there was one such instance he... couldn’t exactly get out of.

He'd been struggling with Flash's bullying for years. He'd called Peter names, hurled slurs, spat out indecencies - normally, Peter could take it. But after the bite... they all landed so much harder.

Peter didn't understand it - spiders didn't have emotions, did they?? Even if they did, that doesn't explain why he's so sensitive. If anything, you'd think the bite would make him aggressive, or argumentative, or angry - spiders were predators, not pussies. What was his problem?

He'd finally had enough one day at the end of his senior year. Flash was being particularly snide - excitement from graduation pushing his normal antics into overdrive.

"Oh come on, Penis. You gonna fight back one of these days or are you just gonna keep hanging your sad faggot head around town?" Flash followed him out of the school building, laughing at his own "joke".

What he wasn't prepared for was an actual answer to his question.

"Yeah, actually. I will."

Peter turned around, grabbing Flash by the straps of his backpack. He glanced around, checking for spectators, before shoving his bully into a secluded alley just ahead of them.

Flash, surprised (but not entirely put off), worked himself free of the backpack and slid behind the smaller boy. Sure, Peter was enhanced, but Flash still had a good head on him height wise.

"Finally decide to manhandle me back, huh Parker? That's so cute." Flash smirked, looking him up and down as he crowded Peter into the corner. "If you're feeling so big and brave, go ahead."

Peter looked up, confusion warping his soft features. Flash... wanted Peter to hit him? Why?

Before he could actually ask, he found himself collapsing on the ground, gasping for air. Flash drew his fist back, shaking off the punch he'd just thrown into Peter's side. He snatched his bag off the ground, tossing it away from Peter & beside a nearby dumpster.

"Christ, you look so pathetic down there! I almost forgot how small you were for a second," he laughed, taking a second to gloat. "Come on, Parker. What happened to finally fighting back?"

Peter'd always been a bit overzealous - I mean, c’mon, the kid grew up listening to stories about Steve Rogers for fucks sake, how could he not develop an underdog complex? He'd spent his childhood defending his family name, his teens protecting May from overzealous asshole boyfriends, and the most recent few watching over all of Queens.

So yeah, of course Peter was going to take this opportunity to kick some ass if he could.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled forward, regaining his balance and breath as he met Flash's eyes. The tiny success was short lived, though, as he felt himself flying backward and up into the brick wall behind him. What the actual fuck?

Peter's senses never failed him - and yet, they just had, twice in the last five minutes! What the fuck? How was Flash able to hit him without warning? How was Flash able to throw him?

The confusion must've been all over his face - Flash laughed as Peter crumpled & didn't attempt to get up again. He crowded into Peter's space, getting close to the little spider's ear.

"You really think you're the only special one in Queens, don't you Penis? You think you're the only one that can break a grown man in half?" Peter groaned, wincing at the pain behind his eyes. "Newsflash, freak. You're not special, you're not important, and you're not leaving this alley alive."

It was then, as Peter glanced back up, that Flash's eyes were glowing a sick green-grey unlike anything he'd ever seem. The senses that'd previously failed him so tragically now did a full 180, sending a wave of cortisol through his system. The need to runclimbswingescapego washed over him, the spider inside completely overriding the human.

As if he'd read Peter's mind, Flash quickly grabbed him by the throat, cutting off both his airway and any potential escape route. He squeezed hard, dragging Peter up the wall until they could look each other in the eye. He crowded closer, setting Peter's skin on fire in the worst way possible.

Peter was choking, clawing at the hand on his throat and trying to kick the monster in front of him away. Flash, annoyed, tightened his grip until Peter's hands dropped and his face turned purple.

Flash chuckled, dropping a now barely conscious Peter into a puddle on the rocky ground. He opted to trade his hands for the steel toed boots he'd so carefully laced up that morning, lips curling as the idea took shape in his head.

The first kicks landed on Peter's stomach, forcing air and blood from his mouth. The next were more stomps than anything, not aimed with any thought or finesse. Each landed heavier than the first, quickly pushing Peter toward a complete blackout. The spider was still screaming, but Peter couldn't do jack shit about it.

He lay back, resigned to his fate. I'm going to die here, he thought, desperately wishing he'd just kept his fucking mouth shut. A little bit of bullying was so much better than dying a week before graduation.

But, somehow, he didn't. Sure, Flash beat him all to shit - May had the hospital bill and the new grey hairs to prove it. But Peter lived.

It took Flash a while to get it all out of his system. The more pain he inflicted, the brighter his eyes got, slowly taking over any illusion of empathy his once brown irises had. He did, eventually, tire, and grow bored of kicking the same stunned spider. When he’d had his fill, he reached down for his backpack, hooking it onto his shoulder and smiling to himself.

Before leaving, though, he turned back to Peter, crouching down and settling mere inches from his face.

“Looks like I got Peter Parker to finally shut the fuck up.” Flash looked down at him as he rose, spitting on Peter’s face as a last hurrah before ditching him and the alley completely.

Peter crawled his way out of the alley after Flash left, blood soaking his shirt and face so swollen he was nearly unrecognizable. He dragged himself to the nearest shop, the kind (and very distraught) owner calling an ambulance the second she'd seen him.

............................................................................................................................

6 weeks later he was back to 100%, diploma in hand, ready to get the fuck out of Queens and up to Cambridge. He'd spent enough time being coddled, people hovering over him and tending to wounds he knew would take care of themselves. These took significantly longer, the extent of the damage worse than anyone thought - but he still healed, and was ready to stretch all eight of his metaphorical legs and get back to school.

The only problem? He couldn't speak.

Okay okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic - his vocal cords and tongue and everything still worked perfectly fine. But every time Peter opened his mouth, words failed him.

It was like Flash's hand was back around his throat, forcing air out of him and the words back inside. How the fuck was he supposed to go to school if he was effectively mute? Peter’d learned Italian in school, not ASL (a choice he was quickly regretting), but even if he had, he wasn't sure his hands would be willing to speak for him either. All forms of effective communication were stolen from him.

He had less than a month before he was supposed to be in the MIT dorms and starting class. 90% of his prereqs required group discussion and verbal participation, so Peter was well and truly fucked if he couldn't figure this out.

Besides, what superhero couldn't talk? How lame was that? Half of his whole schtick was sassy one-liners. At this point, Spiderman was becoming synonymous with snark!

His first night back in May's apartment, he cried himself to sleep thinking about it. This sudden feeling - all grief and loss and shattered expectations he didn't even know he had... his whole world was suddenly gone, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.

The worst part?

He didn't even have the words to ask for help.

19 notes · View notes

annewritesfic · 3 years

Text

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

i sat down and worked on this for the last FIVE HOURS y’all better appreciate it

based on chapters 4, 6, 9, and 10 of scarlet by marissa meyer

tw: mentions of gun, knives, blood, attempted murder... i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed anything

word count: 7266

The incarceration of Captain Farrah Thorne had gotten off to a rocky start.

(Farrah was fully aware, of course, that technically she’d been only a cadet when she’d gone on the run, but captain just sounded better.)

After the soap rebellion, Farrah had been put in solitary confinement, but she’d managed to sweet talk one of the guards into giving her their port screen. It was honestly probably because the guard thought Farrah was an idiot and wouldn’t be able to do anything with it, but no matter the reason, Farrah was now sitting cross-legged on her bed, fidgeting with the port screen.

Of course, the guard was right about Farrah not being able to do anything with the port screen.

She’d had it for several hours now and still hadn’t accessed her comms, any news feeds, or anything else useful. Looking up “how to break out of a high-security prison using only a port screen” probably wouldn’t get her anywhere, so now she was just absentmindedly entering the names of people she used to know, wondering where they were now.

The cell was painfully, obviously quiet, but slowly, Farrah noticed the sound of what almost seemed like a drill, coming from the ceiling. She looked up and briefly scanned the room, but there wasn’t much to see - the same plain, shiny white walls. If the prison was remodeling, Farrah hoped her cell was next.

The drill noise suddenly came louder, clearly directly above Farrah’s cell, and she watched curiously as one of the ceiling tiles was removed and someone jumped down, landing in a crouch and facing the wall opposite Farrah. The someone had messy brown hair tied in a ponytail, a crumpled white prison uniform, and one bare foot… and one metal foot. In fact, Farrah realized that the person’s left hand was plated with metal, too, and one finger had a screwdriver sticking out of the tip.

“Hello,” she said pleasantly. The cyborg jumped and slipped, turning to look at Farrah. “It seems you’ve stumbled into the wrong jail cell. Do you need directions to get back to yours?”

The cyborg narrowed her eyes at Farrah. “What…?”

Farrah smiled charmingly.

“These cells aren’t supposed to be occupied,” the cyborg said. Her voice was a little bit hoarse, like they hadn’t spoken in awhile.

“Special circumstances.”

“You’re not a murderer, are you?”

“Stars, no.” Farrah popped her collar proudly. “I started a riot in the yard. We were protesting the soap.”

The cyborg stared at her.

“The soap,” Farrah said again. “It’s way too drying. I have sensitive skin.”

“Huh,” the cyborg said, turning away. They stood up and kicked the fallen floor tile to the side, looking around, then knocked the side of her head with the heel of their human hand. “Stupid, stupid… one room off.”

Farrah watched them press a hand against the wall and blink a few times, like there was something stuck in their eye. “You’re escaping, aren’t you?”

“Not at this very moment, but that is the general idea, yes.” The cyborg sighed frustratedly, then spotted the port screen in Farrah’s hand. “Hey, what model is that?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Farrah said honestly.

The cyborg crossed the room and snatched it out of her hand. “I need your vid cable.”

“My what?”

“Your vid cable. Mine’s on the fritz.” The cyborg sat cross-legged in the center of the room, port screen in her lap. Farrah realized that the screwdriver in their metal hand was a drill, and she watched curiously as the cyborg used it to remove the back panel and pulled out a yellow wire. She kicked the port screen aside and reached up to the back of their neck, unlatching a panel there. After a moment of fidgeting, the cyborg pulled out a blackened wire and then replaced it with the yellow one from Farrah’s port screen. She tossed the blackened wire aside and sighed, a brief smile crossing their lips. “Ugh, that’s so much better.”

Farrah picked up the port screen, mind whirling. “You have a port screen in your head?”

“Something like that.” The cyborg began running a hand across the wall. Farrah watched her pry one of the panels off the wall, and tried to make small talk, but the cyborg ignored her.

“When they locked you up, didn’t they think that maybe there were some… security weaknesses with you?” Farrah asked.

The cyborg sighed, sitting back on their heels and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “There weren’t. The hand is new.” They stared at the open wall for a moment, thinking.

“You wouldn’t happen to be convicted of breaking and entering?” Farrah said, only half joking.

The cyborg rolled her eyes. “If you really have to know, two counts of treason, resisting arrest, and unlawful use of biolectricity. Oh, and illegal immigration, but I kind of think that’s a little excessive.”

Farrah squinted at her. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“How the hell-”

“It’s really complicated and I don’t wanna talk about it,” the cyborg snapped.

“O-kay.” Farrah sat back. “By the way, what’s your name?”

No response. The cyborg kept doing… whatever they were doing behind the panel.

“I’m Captain Farrah Thorne,” she said. “Most people call me Thorne, though. Or Captain. Or Captain Thorne-”

“Kate,” the cyborg said. “Just Kate.”

“Wonderful to make your acquaintance!” Farrah smiled brightly. “Are you in need of an accomplice? Because I happen to be a criminal mastermind-”

“Go away.”

“Um.” Farrah looked around the small, one-room cell. “Where?”

Kate closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then kept working.

“What’s your plan for when you get out?” Farrah asked.

“The most direct route out of the city is north,” Kate muttered. White flecks of plastic from the wall dusted their dark hair, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, my poor, sweet, naive little convict,” Farrah tutted. “That’s exactly what they’ll be expecting from you!”

“Please stop distracting me.”

“We might be able to help each other!”

“Leave me alone.”

“I have a ship.”

Kate actually looked at her.

“A spaceship,” Farrah said in a sing-song voice.

“A spaceship,” Kate repeated doubtfully.

“Yep!”

The cyborg paused, as if reading something on the wall behind Farrah. “It wouldn’t happen to be a stolen ship from the American Republic?”

“Yeah, how did you…” Farrah trailed off, then grinned and tapped the side of her head. “Port screen in the head?”

“The Republic hasn’t found the ship yet?”

“Nope. At least, I hope not. Stripped the tracking equipment, and it’s hiding in a warehouse over by the plague quarantines.” Farrah raised an eyebrow. “So? Need that accomplice?”

Kate said nothing and turned back to the wall.

“You look exhausted,” Farrah commented. “Need a back rub?”

Kate jolted upwards with a growl and whipped around to face Farrah. “Please, just-- just stop talking. Leave me alone.”

Farrah gasped a little and fell back against the wall, mind whirling. Kate’s image wavered just a bit, like heat in a desert, and Farrah’s heartbeat sped up, her head filling with thoughts of worship and devotion and surrender.

She was beautiful. Divine. Perfect.

“All right,” Farrah said slowly. “Anything you’d like.” She turned to face away from Kate, eyes watering, and the silence settled over both of them. Farrah and the cyborg, prison mate, goddess.

FARRAH THORNE

ID #0082688359

BORN 4 JUNE 106 T.E., AMERICAN REPUBLIC

FF 437 MEDIA HITS, REVERSE CHRON

POSTED 12 JAN 126 T.E.: EX-AIR FORCE CADET, FARRAH THORNE, HAS BEEN CONVICTED AND SENTENCED TO A SIX-YEAR PRISON SENTENCE AT THE END OF A SPEEDY TWO-WEEK TRIAL…

The green text scrolled across Kate’s vision without prompting, showing them a detailed record of the crimes of the annoying convict sitting just ten feet away. Despite only having turned twenty a few months ago, Farrah Thorne was guilty of one count of military desertion, two counts of international theft, one count of attempted theft, six counts of handling stolen goods, and one count of theft of government property.

“Government property” didn’t seem to do justice to the fact that Farrah Thorne had stolen a spaceship from the American Republic military. The spaceship she was so proud of.

She was currently about six months into her six year sentence in the Eastern Commonwealth (for attempted theft of a second-era jade necklace), but she was also wanted in Australia and, of course, America, and after this sentence was completed, would be standing trial and serving time in those countries as well.

Kate didn’t pause their work to think, even though her mind was racing. Escaping from prison was one thing, but could she really aid the escape of this actual, real criminal, in a stolen spaceship?

It’s a whole lot harder to find a criminal in space than on Earth, their mind tempted. Kate scowled and shoved away the thought.

Behind them, Farrah Thorne sat on the little white cot, chin resting in both hands, staring at the wall. Kate only risked half a glance back every few minutes - just looking at her made them feel guilty.

Leave me alone.

The words had tasted like fire, like ashes and burning and smoke. That heat had spread through Kate’s veins again - not as painful as it had been at the ball, but still not comfortable, either. She was pretty sure that using her gift - a genetic trait Lunars were born with that allowed them to sense and manipulate the biolectricity of other living creatures - wasn’t supposed to burn like that, but it was probably just a side effect of using it again for the first time in years. Probably for the first time ever, really. Kate didn’t know much about the Lunar gift, but it seemed unlikely that a three year old would be able to control it, and she’d only lived on Luna until they were that old.

Thirteen years ago, though, Queen Levana had tried to murder Princess Selene.

She’d tried to murder Kate.

By some miracle, Kate had survived and was smuggled down to Earth, and now thirteen years later, the lost Lunar princess was kneeling in a jail cell, white flakes of plastic decorating her white prison jumpsuit, the drill implanted in their metal hand helping her break out of New Beijing prison.

Literally, what the fuck?

Dr Erland had figured it out weeks ago, but had only decided to tell them less than twenty four hours ago, after Levana had recognized them at the annual peace ball and threatened war if Kate wasn’t immediately thrown in jail for being an illegal Lunar emigrant. Dr Erland had decided that was the perfect time to pay Kate a visit, give her a new foot (seeing as theirs had fallen off on the palace steps), a fancy new cyborg hand with the latest attachments, the biggest shock of her entire life, and instructions to meet him in Africa. Right. Easy-peasy. Break out of a high-security prison and meet a crazy doctor in Africa.

Kate risked another glance back at Farrah, still sitting on the cot with that dazed smile. A spaceship would make it easier to get to Africa…

Still, just looking at Farrah brought back that flash of guilt, and Kate had to turn away.

She hadn’t meant to use their gift on Farrah. They were still learning how to use it. It took three tries to convince a guard to move her to a more convenient cell, and shutting Farrah up had been completely on accident - she’d just wanted Farrah to stop talking for ten seconds, and the heat of their gift had surged from the base of her neck and spread to her fingertips and leaked into her voice, prompting Farrah to do…

To do exactly what Kate wanted her to do.

It hadn’t felt good. It made Kate feel awful and guilty and like the worst person on Earth - stars, how could Lunars stand having this gift, let alone love it the way they did?

I don’t want to have this gift. I don’t want to be Lunar.

I just… wanna be the old me again.

Kate pushed away their spiraling thoughts and stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Farrah looked up at them with wide eyes, sitting up eagerly.

“I’m sorry I manipulated you,” Kate said, the words coming out a little bit jumbled. They tried again, slower this time. “It was an abuse of power and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

Farrah frowned. “Are you the same person who was just here?”

“Yeah…?”

“Oh.” Farrah looked her up and down. “You seemed a whole lot prettier before.”

A little bit of Kate’s guilt faded away. “Listen, Cadet-”

“Captain,” Farrah corrected.

“Cadet,” Kate repeated forcefully. “You can come with me if we make it to your ship, and if you try not to talk so much.”

Farrah eagerly stood up, almost losing her balance for a moment. “Sick!”

Kate glanced back at the hole they’d created, having found the entrance to the air ducts. “So this ship of yours is the one you stole from the American Republic, right?”

“I prefer borrowed. They didn’t exactly have proof I wasn’t gonna give it back.”

Kate immediately began to regret this.

“And you’re sure the ship isn’t traceable?” they asked.

“Of course I’m sure.” Farrah tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I told you, I removed all the tracking equipment immediately.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Kate held up her left hand and ejected the stiletto knife in the thumb. “We need to remove your ID chip. Hope you’re not squeamish.”

Farrah’s eyes widened, but she closed her eyes and held her wrist out. “Please try not to hit anything important, okay?”

Kate quickly removed the ID chip and tossed it aside, then cut a strip of cloth from Farrah’s sleeve for her to wrap around the wound. There was already a scar there, probably from where she’d cut out her ID chip the last time she’d been on the run.

Farrah pressed the cloth against the cut on her wrist and grinned at Kate. “Is it just me, or is this a big moment in our relationship?”

Kate glared at her. “Do not make me regret this.”

The air duct was cramped and hot and uncomfortable. Kate’s metal leg scraped against the bottom of it every time they crawled forward. Farrah, to her credit, stayed quiet, but Kate was so agitated that even just her breathing was annoying. Any sound ran the risk of getting them caught. Honestly, it was a surprise they hadn’t already been caught.

Kate checked the clock in her head. She’d left their cell thirty two minutes ago.

The prison blueprint glowed brightly on the retina display over the dark air duct, a tiny blue dot representing Kate and displaying where exactly they were - and with Farrah in tow.

Stars, Kate had to sneak both of them out safely. This was going to be hard enough on their own, how was she supposed to get both of them out?

You could glamour her.

Kate bit their lip. That was true… she could convince Farrah that she wanted to tell them exactly where her ship was, then make her decide that she didn’t want to come after all. Farrah wouldn’t have a choice but to listen.

“You good?” Farrah asked softly.

Kate shook her head just a tiny bit. No, they wouldn’t glamour her. Not again. She’d made it sixteen years just fine without a Lunar gift, and they’d be fine without it now.

“I’m fine, just… checking the blueprint,” she whispered back to Farrah. “Almost there.”

“Bluepri- ohhh, port screen-”

“In my head, yes.” Kate rounded the corner and saw a grate just a few feet ahead, casting a checkered square of light into the duct. “Okay, that’s it.”

Slowly, carefully, Kate crawled over the grate and then awkwardly turned around so both of them could look down. Below was a loading dock, where food and other supplies were brought in for the prisoners, and almost directly below the grate, a storm drain, exactly where Kate’s blueprint promised it would be. The drop was a full story, and there was concrete below, but besides that, this was almost going to be easy.

“The exit ramp should be that way,” Farrah whispered, pointing.

Kate shook their head. “No, we’ve got to get into that storm drain.”

“We’re going through the sewer?”

“What, did you think we’d just walk to your ship in broad daylight wearing bright white prison uniforms?” Kate rolled their eyes. “The sewer is our only way out.”

Farrah started to reply, but the sound of voices below made both of them duck away from the grate, out of sight.

“I didn’t see her dancing with the cyborg, my sister did. Her dress was soaking wet and wrinkled like a garbage bag.”

“But why would the empress dance with a cyborg? And then for them to go off and attack the Lunar queen like that… no way. Your sister was seeing things. I bet she was just some crazy who wandered in off the street, bitter over some cyborg injustice or whatever.”

The conversation cut off at the sound of a delivery ship. Kate bit their tongue at the voices shit-talking them and dared to peek over the grate again. The delivery ship passed by below, backing towards the loading bay and coming to a stop directly below where Kate and Farrah crouched in the duct. Kate took advantage of the noise and unscrewed the grate’s screws, then Farrah carefully lifted it up and to the side. Kate ignored the way their heart was thundering and carefully moved lower, looking down to get a better view, and saw, just a foot away, a rotating camera.

Kate jerked back up and crouched lower automatically, her retina display recommending deep breaths to calm down. The camera wasn’t facing their direction, thank God, but between the camera and the delivery workers unloading below, there was no way they’d make it to the storm drain undetected. And every second brought the risk of a guard discovering their empty cells - twice as many empty cells as Kate had planned to leave behind.

They made a decision and, without leaving time to question it, slowly and carefully reached their cyborg hand out, palm flat against the ceiling, and felt around for a moment before finding the camera’s lens. The plastic crushed easily in her bionic fist, the crunching noise terrifyingly loud.

“What the hell was that?” Farrah hissed.

“Camera.” Kate listened for a moment, but none of the workers below seemed to have noticed. “Time to go. We probably only have a few seconds before they realize they’re missing a camera.” Kate took a deep breath, pulled herself over the edge, and dropped down onto the roof of the delivery ship. Farrah followed.

Kate’s metal leg clanged loudly against the roof of the ship, and the whole thing shook on both impacts, immediately drawing the attention of all three workers. For a moment, the five of them just stared at each other, but then one of the workers reached for the port screen on his belt.

Kate focused for a moment, and the man’s hand never reached his port screen, hovering in the air just above it instead.

“Don’t,” they hissed, pushing away the guilt. The fire began to spread through her body again, but they ignored it, mind whirling.

Turn around.

They did.

Close your eyes.

They did.

Cover your ears.

They did.

Hum.

They did.

Farrah gaped at Kate. “What are they doing?”

“Obeying,” Kate muttered over the buzz of the humming. Hopefully that would keep them from hearing the storm drain open and realizing where the two escaping convicts had gone, and that was the only thought that kept Kate from releasing them, even as the guilt and the hatred of this stupid goddamn gift began to spread alongside the fire.

The fall into the storm drain was about as far as the fall onto the ship, but this time, Kate almost gagged at the sensation of the oily water against their bare foot. She envied Farrah’s shoes as she landed beside them, replacing the grate, and then they both turned to the round concrete tunnel beside them. It was only waist height and stunk like garbage and mildew, but Kate set their jaw and crawled into it.

“Ew, oh my God, that’s disgusting! Get it off me!”

Kate nearly slipped in their haste to turn around and look back at Farrah, who was jumping and squirming in the cramped tunnel, shrieking. Kate’s embedded flashlight flicked upward to the ceiling, and the cluster of cockroaches made her shudder, but they turned away and kept going.

“A cockroach won’t kill you,” they called.

“It’s in my fucking uniform-”

“Be quiet, there’s a manhole up ahead.”

“And we’re exiting through that manhole, right?”

Kate scoffed.

The idea of a cockroach in their shirt did make her shiver a bit, but Farrah’s squeamishness wasn’t as important as the map of the sewer system overlaid on top of their vision, guiding her to the warehouse where Farrah swore her ship was.

Plus, Kate was walking through ankle-deep sludge with one bare foot. That was easily worse than a thousand cockroaches.

“Wait, what's that noise?” Farrah asked.

“The combined main line,” Kate answered just as the worst stench Kate had ever had the displeasure of experiencing reached them.

“Aces and spades,” Farrah said, choking. “That had better not be what I think it is.”

“We’re not just gonna be walking through surface water runoff soon,” Kate said simply.

“You’re joking. For the love of fuck, tell me you’re joking.”

Despite the stench, Kate smirked.

That smirk didn’t last long as the stink got worse. They both took shallow breaths, but Farrah had her shirt over her nose by the time they reached the sewer connection. Kate’s flashlight washed across the edge of a concrete wall, then against the metal grate on the far edge. It was stable enough for maintenance workers, although unfortunately covered in rat droppings - although the rat droppings were easily preferable to the churning, brown, two-meter river of sludge between them and the grate. Kate hadn’t eaten since before leaving the apartment building before the ball, which was the only reason she didn’t vomit from the stench.

“Alright, ready?” She inched closer to the edge. “The faster we do this, the faster it’s over with.”

“Wait- no, no, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

Farrah almost backed up against the wall, but thought better of it when she felt the slime there. “I’m not walking through that. Don’t you have some sort of gadget in that fancy hand of yours that could get us across?”

Kate rolled their eyes and glared. “Oh, wow, thanks for reminding me about my grappling hook.”

The water, thankfully, only went up to their thighs, but Kate still barely managed not to gag as they crossed, the current surprisingly strong against her legs. Something squished under her foot, and Kate almost screamed. Thankful for the weight of her metal leg keeping them from losing her balance, Kate made it to the other side and crawled up onto the grate, still taking shallow breaths even as they began to get light headed.

“Okay,” they shouted across to Farrah. “You either cross, or you can go back and serve the rest of your sentence, but you have to decide right now.”

Farrah gulped, staring at Kate’s legs. They risked a glance down and pushed away the wave of nausea at the way the stark white pants now clung, greenish-brown and sopping wet, to their legs.

“Are you coming?” Kate shouted.

Farrah scrunched her face up and muttered a series of creative curses, then lowered herself into the sewage and trudged across, still muttering curses the entire time. She finally made it to the grate and heaved herself up beside Kate, glaring daggers. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“That’s what you get for complaining about the soap,” Kate said lightly. “Which way?”

Farrah pressed her lips together, thinking. “It was near the old Beihai Park, whichever way that was.”

“You mean we didn’t have to cross that river?”

Farrah’s eyes widened. “What?”

Kate smirked again. “Only messing with you. C’mon, this way.”

“How long have we been walking?” Farrah asked as they started down the tunnel. “Feels like hours.”

Kate checked her internal clock. “Twelve minutes.”

“Bullshit.”

Kate saved their breath and didn’t answer. To Farrah’s credit, it did sort of feel like they’d been walking for a few lifetimes, hearing the sounds of rats skittering past and water dripping from the ceiling. Kate’s flashlight glistened on the slimy walls, and they passed another manhole before finally making it to the one by Beihai Park.

“We’re about a block away from the park,” Kate said, putting a hand and a foot on the ladder. “Does West Yunxin sound familiar?”

Farrah squinted. “I think?”

Kate rolled their eyes and started to climb. She pushed the manhole cover up and to the side, almost gasping at the sudden gust of fresh air, before a hover glided overhead. Kate ducked down below the manhole, heart pounding at the lights atop the vehicle, but then it turned a corner and the red cross painted on the side revealed itself as a medical hover, not a police one, easing Kate’s fearful vision of androids with cold, emotionless voices and brain-interface-overriding tasers. The old warehouse district was near the plague quarantines, so it made sense that there were medical hovers.

Kate glanced to make sure the road was deserted before pulling themself up and into the sun, uniform glaringly bright against the pavement. Farrah followed and replaced the manhole cover, and Kate crossed her arms, pushing down the worry about being caught. “Okay, which way?”

Farrah squinted. Turned in a circle. Twisted her lips to the side thoughtfully.

Kate resisted the urge to scream.

“You have to recognize something, right?” they asked desperately.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just been awhile,” Farrah said quickly. She turned to face down the street. “This way!” She walked five steps, then stopped and looked around again. “Or, um… maybe this way?”

“Do you have an address?” Kate demanded.

“A captain always knows where her ship is! It’s like a psychic bond,” Farrah protested.

Kate glared. “If only we had a captain, cadet.”

Farrah rolled her eyes and marched down the street with spectacular confidence, and Kate followed, jumping at every sound and hugging themself nervously. They walked for three blocks without seeing anyone, and Kate started trying to think of a backup plan as Farrah slowed and began scanning the nearby buildings.

“There!” Farrah said, pointing. “That one, I’m sure of it!” She walked up to the warehouse, which looked the same as every other warehouse within a mile, and tried the door. “Goddamnit, it’s locked.”

“D’you have a key?”

Farrah glared at Kate. “Yep, let me just pull it out of my prison issued pocket.”

She’s got your escape ship, Kate reminded themself, teeth grit. You can’t hit her.

They kneeled down besides the ID scanner, examining it. “D’you think it’s alarmed?”

“It had better be! I’ve been paying rent this whole time, and it wasn’t for my darling to be sitting in an unprotected warehouse.”

Kate was beginning to wonder if one punch would really be so bad when the door swung open.

“Thorne!” the strange man said loudly. “I just saw the news, thought you’d be showing up here soon!”

Farrah’s eyes lit up. “Hey, Alak, what’s up? I’m on the news? How do I look?”

Alak’s attention flitted over to Kate, and the smile slipped from his face. Kate kept her expression neutral (mostly, but a glare was part of their resting expression anyways) and took a second to check the newsfeeds. Sure enough: ESCAPED CONVICT. CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS. IF SEEN, COMM THIS LINK IMMEDIATELY.

“Saw you on the news, too,” Alak said flatly.

Farrah coughed a little. “Hey, I need to pick up my ship. We’re kind of in a hurry.”

Alak shook his head. “Sorry, Thorne. The feds already watch me close enough. I can always claim ignorance to storing a stolen ship, but assisting a felon, and assisting… one of them-” Kate wondered if he was referring to their Lunar heritage or cyborg limbs- “If they track you here, I’m toast. I won’t tell anyone I saw you, but I can’t let you take your ship ‘till this all blows over. You understand, yeah?”

Farrah made an extremely offended face. “But she’s my ship! I pay you a lot of goddamn money, Alak, you can’t keep her from me!”

“Every man for himself, you know how it is.” Alak looked back at Kate with an expression of revulsion. “If you leave now, I won’t comm the police. And if they show up here, I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you since last year when you dropped off the ship. But if you stay a minute longer, I swear to fuck, I will comm them myself.”

Kate glanced down the street, and their heart leaped into her throat at the sight of an emergency hover without the red cross on the side. “Look, we need that ship. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Alak sneered and stepped back into the doorway. “I’m trying to help you out, ‘cause Thorne’s been a good customer for awhile, and I don’t rat out my customers, but it isn’t a favor to you. I wouldn’t blink twice about sending you off to rot. It’s the best you freaks deserve. Now fuck off, before I change my mind.”

Kate clenched her fists, barely containing a cry of pain as the burning returned, white hot as it spread from the base of her neck. They managed to stop the burst of electricity, white spots blinking in their vision, just in time to see Alak’s eyes roll back as he passed out.

Farrah caught him, groaning. “Aces, he weighs a ton!”

Kate fell back against the wall, suddenly dizzy. “He’s not- fuck, he’s not dead, is he?”

“No, I think he’s fine.” Farrah groaned again under the weight. “Ugh, help me, will you?”

Kate reached for Alak’s feet, and they tugged him into the building. The office to the left had two net screens with security footage on one side and a newsfeed on the other.

“He’s a selfish ass, but he’s got good taste in jewelry,” Farrah murmured, holding up his limp wrist with a golden watch.

Kate slapped her hand. “Can you focus?” They both turned and scanned the warehouse, packed with all sorts of ships - cargo ships, podships, personal flyers, raceships, ferries, cruisers-

“Hey, look, there was another jailbreak.”

Kate looked back at the netscreen, reading the words that scrolled across the bottom. LUNAR ESCAPES FROM NEW BEIJING PRISON. CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. Wonderful.

“This is awesome!” Farrah said with a laugh. “If they’re tracking down a Lunar, they won’t think twice about us!”

Kate pressed her lips together and looked back at the array of ships.

“Wait… you’re Lunar?!”

“Yes, dumbass, I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.” Kate put their hands on their hips and raised an eyebrow, hiding the way she wanted to curl up under the desk and hide until the world forgot Kate Dalton had ever existed. “Which ship is yours?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Assisting a crazy Lunar is a bit out of my league-”

Kate laughed sharply, humorlessly, throwing their hands in the air. “If it wasn’t be me, you’d still be rotting in that fucking jail cell, so you owe me. And you’re already on the news as my accomplice, so it’s a bit too late to go back. You look stupid in that picture, by the way.”

Farrah looked at the screen that showed her own prison picture besides Kate. “I think I look pretty good.”

Kate took a deep, shaky breath. “Farrah, please.”

Farrah thought for a moment, then sighed heavily. “Fine, let’s go.”

Kate managed a sigh of relief and followed Farrah into the mess of ships. “I hope it isn’t one in the middle.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Farrah pointed up. “The roof opens.”

“Huh.” Kate looked where Farrah was pointing, at the seam across the ceiling. “Convenient.”

“Here she is!”

Kate’s retina display automatically began downloading the ship’s information as Farrah proudly pointed to it. It was larger than they’d anticipated - way larger. A 214 Rampion, Class 11.3 cargo ship. Two satellite podships, six crew quarters, a galley and a washroom… definitely enough room to avoid each other.

“You know, there was a time when she housed a crew of twelve men,” Farrah said, patting the side of the ship.

Kate walked around to the main entry hatch, noticing that the seal of the American Republic had been hastily painted over with the silhouette of a lounging woman. “What the hell?”

“Painted it myself,” Farrah said.

Kate sighed.

“Over here!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from across the warehouse. Kate glanced back and saw a man in the uniform of the Eastern Commonwealth’s military crouched over Alak’s unconscious body.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” they muttered and shoved Farrah’s shoulder. “C’mon, time to get out of here, let’s go.”

Farrah turned to the hatch and cleared her throat. “Alright, Rampion. Code word: Captain is queen. Open hatch.”

Nothing happened. The hatch stayed stubbornly closed. Kate started to panic.

“Captain is queen,” Farrah said again. “Captain is queen! Rampion, it’s me! Captain Thorne! What the hell-”

“Shh,” Kate said quickly, pressing up against the hull of the ship. Just on the other side, soldiers with searchlights had begun making their way through the warehouse, combing it for them.

“Maybe the power cell is dead,” Kate thought aloud.

“But it’s just been sitting here-” Farrah cursed. “I left the headlights on, didn’t I?”

Kate ignored their rising panic. “Maybe it’s the auto-control system? I’ve never worked on anything bigger than a podship, but I doubt it’s that different.” They put a hand on Farrah’s shoulder. “Stay here and keep trying to get in, okay?”

“Where are you-”

Kate snuck around the side of the ship, moving as quickly as possible, the blueprint she’d downloaded a few minutes earlier glowing over their vision. She found the access hatch easily and got it open even easier, and crawled into the undercarriage of the ship, barely avoiding the wires that criss-crossed in her way. The second interior door was more of a challenge, but with their flashlight and screwdriver, Kate was in the engine room within a minute.

The engine was bigger than she was, looming against the opposite wall. Kate brushed past it and found the computer motherboard, pulling the universal connector cable from their hand as they went, and snapped it into place. The flashlight dimmed, and Kate turned it off as her power was diverted, reading the pale green text that took over her retina display.

DIAGNOSING COMPUTER SYSTEM. MODEL 135v8.2

5% … 12% … 16% …

Farrah pressed herself behind the landing gear, heart pounding in her ears. “Captain is queen, captain is queen,” she hissed, even though she was pretty sure it was useless.

A subtle hum started up over her head, and she looked up at the running lights flickering on near the ship’s nose with a spark of hope. Gears started to rumble, and Farrah rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being squashed beneath the ramp.

“There!” shouted one of the soldiers.

Farrah swung herself up onto the ramp. “Rampion, close hatch!”

Nothing happened.

A bullet pinged off the overhead light. Farrah swore and ducked behind a plastic crate. “Rampion, I said close hatch!”

“I’m working on it!” said a voice overhead.

Farrah froze and nervously glanced up. “Rampion…?”

No response.

Just before the soldiers could follow Farrah onto the ship, the ramp creaked and began to rise, blocking more and more bullets as it went. Once it was safe, she rushed to the cockpit, keeping her balance with a hand against the wall as she slid into the pilot seat. The windows were filthy, but she didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

“Rampion, ready for liftoff!” she ordered.

The dash lit up - only the most important controls and screens.

That same cold feminine voice rang over the speakers. “Farrah, I can’t set the automatic lift, so you’ll have to take off manually.”

“Why is my ship talking back to me?!” Farrah yelled, panicked.

“It’s me, dumbass!”

Farrah furrowed her eyebrows. “Kate?”

“The auto-control system has a bug, and the power cell is weird, too. I think it’ll make it, but you have to take off without computer assistance.”

Farrah gulped. “Without- are you sure?”

“You know how to fly, right?”

“Y-yeah, of course!” Farrah scanned the controls.

“We’re fucked.”

Farrah reached for the controller on the ceiling and blinked as the warehouse doors opened, smacking her in the face with a bright beam of sunlight. She jabbed at the ignition and engaged hover mode, smoothly easing the ship off the ground with the help of the magnets beneath the city. Farrah’s breathing began to steady.

Then the ship began to tilt to the left.

“Woah- hey, stop that!” Farrah shouted, leveling the ship.

“The power cell is going to die. You’ve got to engage the backup thrusters.”

“The wha- wait, no, I found them.”

The sudden jolt of power made the ship lurch to the right, and Farrah winced as she slammed into the ship beside her. A wave of bullets slammed into the starboard side. Farrah shivered.

“What’s going on? What the hell are you doing?”

“Stop distracting me!” she shouted through gritted teeth. She tried to right the ship, but overcompensated and they tilted too far to the right.

“We’re gonna fucking die.”

“This isn’t as easy as it looks! Normally I have an automated stabilizer to take care of this for me!”

Oddly enough, she received no sarcastic reply.

Another panel lit up to her right. MAGNETIC CONDUCTORS STABILIZING. POWER OUTPUT: 37/63 … 38/62 … 42/58 …

The ship settled and once again began to hover evenly.

Farrah grinned. “Exactly like that!”

The engine roared as the ship soared upwards, a last wave of bullets sending them away as they broke free from the warehouse.

“C’mon, darling,” Farrah said softly, as the ship easily broke through the magnetic field of the city and speared through the clouds of the morning sky. The skyscrapers of New Beijing were only visible for a moment before they dropped away, and then it was just Farrah and the ship and the open starry sky ahead of them.

Farrah’s knuckles were white around the controls until the ship made it to neutral orbit, then she slumped back into the chair, shaking. She forgot to speak for several minutes, her heart too loud to hear anything else, before she said “hey, if you want a permanent position on the crew, you’re hired.”

No response.

“And I don’t mean, like, the lowest rank,” she continued. “First mate? I mean, everything’s available. Mechanic… cook… a pilot would be nice.” She waited. “Kate?”

Nothing.

Farrah sighed and pulled herself to her feet, leaning against the wall as she walked along the hallway that was as familiar to her as her cell in the prison had eventually become, down to the engine room. The screen by the door didn’t say anything about space vacuums, or about a living cyborg inside.

Farrah unlocked the door and shoved it open. The engine room was loud, hot, and stank of melted rubber. It was too dark to see, but Farrah squinted anyway, a bit terrified of what she’d see.

“Cyborg? Are you in there?”

Nothing.

Farrah squeezed her eyes shut. “Lights, on.”

A red emergency light was the only one that turned on, casting a sinister light over the revolving engine and masses of cords.

Farrah spotted something white.

“Kate?” she called again, getting closer. Kate didn’t move. As Farrah got closer, she saw them on their back, dark hair fanned over the steel floor, eyes closed and bionic hand plugged into a computer panel.

“Hey,” Farrah said nervously. She put a hand on Kate’s shoulder and gently shook, but got no response. Farrah pressed an ear against her chest, but the engine was too loud to hear a heartbeat.

Farrah reached and unplugged Kate’s hand from the computer panel, and a robotic voice came overhead, the same one Kate had used to talk to Farrah during takeoff. “Auto-control system disconnected,” it said. “Engaging default system procedures.”

“Cool, you do that,” Farrah said, dragging Kate into the hallway. God, whatever the hell those cyborg limbs were made out of, it was way heavier than a normal human limb.

Farrah propped Kate up against the wall and frowned. At least in this brightness, it was obvious that they were breathing. “Do you have, like, a power button or whatever?”

Her gaze fell to the hand, a cord still dangling from her pinky.

“Aha!” Farrah leaped to her feet and opened the podship dock, then tugged Kate in between the two small podships. She grabbed for the podship’s charging cord from the wall, then paused, looking back and forth between the charging cord and Kate’s cord. Dammit, two males. They’d never connect.

Farrah glanced down and saw the small latch on the back of Kate’s head.

“Aces and spades,” she groaned. “Tell me it’s not…”

But all signs pointed to yes.

Farrah kneeled next to Kate and looked away as she opened the panel, then snuck a glance and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized Kate’s control panel hid any brain tissue from view. The compartment was shallow enough that the ship’s lights were enough to see by, and she quickly spotted a small outlet, the same size as the plugs.

“Gotcha,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t about to majorly fuck up as she plugged it in and leaned Kate back against the wall.

For a moment, nothing happened, but about a minute later, something hummed inside their skull. It got louder and louder, but then stopped, and Farrah gulped, tucking her knees up to her chest.

Kate’s eyes flew open, and she gasped, looking up at Farrah.

“Kate…?” Farrah said nervously. “Are you dead?”

Kate took a moment to speak, and when they did, the words were slurred. “Auto-control defaults… almost drained my power system…”

“Uh, I think it did.”

Kate stared at her for a moment with a confused expression, but then reached up for the cord still plugged into the back of their head and yanked it out, slamming the panel shut. “You opened my control panel?” they demanded harshly.

“I didn’t want to! And I saved your life!” Farrah pointed out.

Kate paused and thought for a moment.

“Well… I guess that was quick thinking,” Kate finally assented.

Farrah grinned. “Are we having another moment?”

Kate slumped back on the floor. “I guess. If you consider another moment to be me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met - although maybe I’m just too exhausted.”

“I’ll take it!” Farrah stretched out on the floor beside Kate, enjoying the coolness of the steel, the humming engine next door, the smell of sewage still wafting from their clothes, and the sensation of freedom.

#we are the tigers #the lunar chronicles #kate dalton #farrah watt #blood tw #gun tw #knife tw #ask to tag #holy shit this took forever #this is probably going to be the longest installment of this whole series #enjoy

18 notes · View notes

nanoland · 3 years

Text

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

5 notes · View notes

words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

Happier (9) | T.H

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N & Tom seem to be in the process of rebuilding their relationship. Natalie is up to no good. How much more can Y/N & Tom take?

Masterlist

A/N: Ive been reading all your responses lately and I appreciate them so much! Im so glad you’re all still on this crazy dramatic ride! Thank you so much for reading and supporting!

Spontaneity

There are certain moments in your life where things go according to plan, and others when they dont...but those are the best kinds. The moments that happen because it feels right and everything just falls into place. After all, everything happens for a reason.

It had been three weeks since Tom and Y/N had their heart to heart, promising to find Unknown together along with Harrison and Harry. While there were no threats taking place, one could never be too careful. The more they waited, the more vulnerable they became, letting down their guard ever so slightly.

Everyone kept a close eye on Natalie, but she convinced them enough to think she was on their side and the PR had nothing to do with Unknown. Show the boys one made up threat message from Unknown and you gained most of their trust. Tom had asked Natalie to stop the PR for the sake of mending his broken relationship with Y/N. She told him that her and her publicist agreed to put it on hold...but kept no promise of stopping it forever.

Natalie’s mother was getting furious, not happy with how her daughter handled the situation. “I told you to keep Y/N away, you insolent girl. You are ruining everything and your chance with Tom.”, she spat through the phone.

Natalie listened to her mother’s rant, rolling her eyes. “Relax mother.” She says sourily. “This is just the beginning. Y/N wont know what hit her and after this...She’s going to wish she never came back to London.” She hangs up the phone smirking as she goes through fan accounts that continued to spark the PR flame.

Meanwhile as the three weeks passed Tom & Y/N had slowly rebuilt their relationship. Occasional glances and banters left their tongue, subtle compliments were thrown out, and it almost seemed as if things would be back just the way they were. Even more so, one day in the kitchen. Y/N was making dinner the for the group as she took the time to cut the asparagus and broccoli. Tom passed by her, as he saw her lose herself in the soft music playing in the background, singing to herself all while still being focused on the food.

He leaned against the doorway and continued to observe her, admiring how cute she looked with her hair up and how sweet her voice sounded with the music. It almost made him think why she didn’t pursue a career in music instead of business. “Wow.” Tom muttered under his breath.

His voice must have been too loud, since Y/N looked up startled, but all the more happy to see the man she once loved..and still does deep down. “Oh..I didn’t see you there.” She giggles. “Don’t worry I’ll stop singing in the kitchen. I know how you guys are when I get into it.”

Tom quickly shook his head as he came closer to her, smiling back. “No. You don’t have to. I think your voice sounds lovely. I mean the kitchen’s got great acoustics.” He laughs nervously. Tom can’t remember the last time he felt so nervous with her, but in the good type of nervous. The type of feeling, one gets when they’re in front of their crush and all the butterlies in their stomach start fluttering. “You just sound and look so beautiful.” He admits, sheepishly.

“Thomas Stanley Holland are you trying to flirt with me?” She asks amused at his attempt pointing the knife at him from a safe distance.

“Am not.” He dramatically answers. “I can’t compliment a friend, who happens to be really beautiful.” Y/N shies away hiding her face, by looking down at the cutting board. “I mean it. I really do think you’re beautiful, even if you dont think like that.”

“Well..I’m definitely no model or Natalie, since the people say you both are London’s to die for couple.” She says bitterly.

Tom rolls his eyes as he takes her hand. “Hey..I told you we stopped it for now and Natalie agreed. You know, I get that we all have our suspicions of her after everything, but she said and proved she was a victim herself. Plus Unknown’s been quiet for the past three weeks.” Y/N scoffs at his defense for Natalie as she heads to the stove with Tom following right behind her. He taps on her should as she reluctantly turns to look at him. “I am only ever going to have feelings for you.” Tom confesses. In this moment their faces are inches apart, eyes are slowing moving down to their lips and back up to their eyes, breaths slowing, and just when it seemed like everything would fall into place, both quickly turn away clearing their throats

Y/N calms her heartbeat as she stirs the pasta while Tom helps stir the sauce. The room was quiet only the sound of bubbling from the pots filling the room. It only took five seconds before they both turned back to each other quickly connecting their lips. The fever and the passion increasing rapidly with every touch and pull. The warmth coming from their breaths and the tingling feeling everytime their lips touched. It was like coming back from an addicition you had quit for so long but craved every single time. They couldn’t stop no matter how wrong this was right now, but it felt so right so spontaneous, so in the moment.

Tom quickly signaled her to jump and did as she told, wrapping her legs around his toned torso, cupping her hands under his jaw. He pushed her back against the kitchen wall, as he slow let on of his hands linger under her shirt. It may have been months apart, but both knew exactly what the other needed and how to handle it. Almost as if it were instinctive. They were in complete bliss, forgetting the world around them. Until, the pasta water started overflowing on the stove.

Y/N opened her eyes and quickly pushed Tom away. “Shit. The food.” She yells out, jumping from Tom’s embrace. Both of them tried to calm their heart rate and Tom stood their watching Y/N, smiling at what had just happened. For once he had his girl back, and everything felt normal. Y/N looks at him, giggling. “What?” She asks.

“Nothing.” He replies, grinning like a little boy. “I’ve waited to do that for so long.”

Y/N blushes at his statement, as she sets up the table with the food. “Come on. It’s time to eat.”

Life seemed surreal after her encounter with Tom. Y/N told herself that it was a one time thing until they found Unknown. She didnt want to put anyone at risk especially both her’s and Tom’s heart. But everytime she told herself, the more she got lost in Tom. Every stolen moment, stolen kisses, stolen touch...he always had a way of making her forget. So while she vowed to herself that it would stop, her heart simply couldn’t. Tom was right, there was no PR, no text messages, no insane fan account rumor. Natalie hadn’t even bothered either of them, always focused on her own thing, and truthfully seemed a lot nicer when she came forth about being a victim of Unknown. The questions came to Y/N’s mind. Why should she have to live in fear? Why not just live in the moment?

It was a slow night. Harrison had spent the weekend at his mother’s while Harry did the same. Tom and Y/N were the only ones that roamed aroundthe house. While Natalie spent her time contemplating everything. Her initial plan to crush Y/N when she least expected was approaching ever so quickly after all the time it took to set up. Within that time, she had gotten to know Y/N and Tom even more so a part from the hatred and the jealousy. For a second...just a second, she considered not to follow through. But her mother’s words and the thought of losing her chances with Tom overtook her the moment she saw the two fall in love all over again. Her suspicions only became worse when she recirved a text from her mother.

Unknown

Just remember, your acting career and your dreams depend on Tom. If you want Tom to choose you, you better get rid of the girl stealing your chances.

Filled with worry, Natalie quickly grabbed her things and made her way out the door.

Meanwhile, Tom and Y/N continued to spend time in each others arms everywhere they went in the house. They settled on the couch, Tom’s stong hands wrapping around her torso as Y/N curled herself into Tom. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” She whispers to him.

Tom hums at the idea, smiling wide. “Me too.” He brings her soft lips to his, letting them linger for a couple seconds more. “Do you really enjoy staying in the guest room?” Tom asks.

Y/N looks up at him, with curious eyes. “I mean yeah it’s okay. Why?”

Tom takes a deep breath before asking, “Well...I was uh wondering, if you didn’t like it as much there, you could..maybe stay with me...again.” He suggested muttering the last word. Tom smiled nervously, as he observes Y/N’s emotions. She was calm like the sea before a storm.

Y/N smiles at his offer, but shakes her head. “Mmm..it’s okay. Im fine where I am, but thank you for the generous offer.” She responds, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah...I guess I should have seen that coming.” Tom admits, his face showing signs of disappointment.

Y/N pouts her lips, and lifts her small hand to move a piece of his hair. “Hey..believe me. I want to but nows the not the time..at least not yet. One day, I promise.” She whispers leaving a chaste kiss on his lips. “C’mon we got another day tomorrow. I’m gonna head into my room for a bit.”

“I’ll come up later just wanna make a call to Harrison.” Tom replies. Y/N looks at him and smiles as she nods and heads back up to her room.

As the night came to an end, Y/N took the time to unwind with a book in hand when her phone went off. Her face dropped when she saw the messages.

Pictures of Natalie out and about wearing Tom’s clothes and jewlery, smiling into the sun and enjoying her day out with friends. Gossips left and right from fans and media, talking about how adorable it was that Natalie was the type of girlfriend to steal her boyfriends clothes because it looks cuter on her. Y/N knew deep down it wasn’t true but the words and pictures taunted her. Slowly and surely, she started to get mad, furious that Natalie would start the flame again out of nowhere when she promised Tom they would stopped. Another message popped up for Y/N, and it was from someone she so willingly prayed it wouldnt be who she thought.

Unknown

Doesn’t she look cute in his clothes. Probably better than you ever could. BTW..where is lover boy? 😉

Y/N throws her phone against the wall, pissed more than ever. She should have known this was going to happen. Y/N contemplated the message, she wondered what the text meant. After all Unknown seeemed to know more about everyone here better than they knew themselves. Y/N slowly went downstairs only to hear whispering coming from the kitchen. She couldn’t make out the exact words but she could identify the voice. It was Tom and Natalie? She took a peak at the kitchen where the two stood facing each other. Y/N couldn’t make out Tom’s face but she could see Natalie’s very clearly. “Kiss me.” Natalie whispers, as she quickly places her lips on Tom’s cradling his neck, but Tom didn’t stop. The moment his eyes opened up to see Y/N’s he pushed Natalie off with all his might.

Y/N standing there in shock and sadness. Her eyes tearing up, her breaths shortening. She shakes her head, as she replays the disturbing image in her mind. “Y/N... it’s not what it looks like.” Tom quickly defends, trying to reach for Y/N as she steps back. Natalie observing the two, a slight smirk forming across her face. “I swear it was for the PR and movie.” He yells out, trying to chase her.

Y/N whips back as she faces Tom, the angriest she has ever been with him. “Who are you putting a show for in this house? Me? Because I sure as hell didn’t fucking like it one bit. I should have known better.” She spits out, heading up the stairs with Tom following.

“Y/N..please. It didn’t mean anything. I swear. I was put in a compromising position. Please listen to me.” Tom pleads. The door to her room is shut locked, but he stays there waiting and knocking at the door. “Y/N. Don’t do this. Dont walk away. Please just let me explain. You know what we have is special and the moment at the kitchen and everything this past month...”

“Was ruined and a complete and utter mistake. Leave me alone and I swear Tom you even try to get near me I will make sure you never see the light of day. I should have fucking stayed back.” Y/N yells out, sobbing against the door. It was a nightmare, and this time she couldn’t get out. She sat there now realizing, her heart had broken completely for the second time.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave @ifntelyinspirit @trumpettay @astridcommings @parkershoco @racewife2004 @sleepybesson @greatpizzascissorstaco @andievgs @joyleenl @holland-bowen @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @viwihere @marvelobsessedteenager @panicattheeverywherekid @oswinO5 @jillanaholland

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

131 notes · View notes

chaotic-noceur · 4 years

Text

but your lies were so sweet

[ day 6 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x reader

summary: In his time with Statesman, Jack has gone by many names. In your experience, they were all just aliases for the same liar.

warnings: false identities, lying, no fluff all angst

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm for beta reading and nudging me back into writing this! Also, some inspiration was taken from Headspace by Lewis Capaldi.

a/n: ahhh we’re almost at the end of this week of pain 😭To those of you who have been reading these every day, I applaud you for sticking with us through it all, and thank you for all the love and support! To those of you who have just found this, welcome to the angst! Once again, i apologise for the pain but this ones pretty gentle considering Javi’s....

gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

“Just tell me why!” you begged, grabbing his hand harshly. “I just want to know why Alex.” He tugs his arm free from your grasp as he spins round to meet your gaze. “Just tell me that and I’ll-” you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat, “tell me why and I’ll let you go.” He clenches his jaw.

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far, hadn’t meant to hurt you. But one thing had led to another and before he knew it… he’d found himself living the life that he had always wanted. Except it wasn’t real. It wasn’t really his. Worst of all, he’d dragged you so far into his fantasy that you were bound to get caught in the crossfire when it inevitably came crashing down around him.

“Look, sweetheart,” his shoulders drop with a sigh. “There’s something you should know.” His voice is hushed, tired. You fold your arms in an attempt to not lose your patience. “That night you and I met? That wasn’t any mistake.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you take a step towards him and he eyes the closing of space between you. You ignore the frown forming on his face. “It’s like the stars had aligned and you waltzed into my life and I was falling for you befor-”

“No, sweetheart. You’re not hearing me.” His duffle bag falls onto the floor with a loud thump as he grasps you by the shoulders. “Our ‘accidental meeting’ was no accident.”

“Wha-”

“The night we met, the thoughtful dates, the entirety of our relationship-” he lets go of you to wave his arm out for emphasis, “it was all one big set up t’ get you t’ fall for me. It ain’t nothing personal darlin’,” he shrugs cooly, “it’s just the job.”

The nonchalant tone in his voice makes your blood boil and you clench your fists at your sides. “What are you talking about?”

He deliberates keeping the act up, or spinning up a new lie. Either way, the damage has been done. But the dejected look on your face, the innocent glimmer in your eyes… it stirs something in him that he doesn’t want to address. Not now. Not while he had a mission to complete.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that urges him to tell you the truth. To give you some semblance of closure. You deserved that much.

He sighs before he speaks. “My name isn’t Alex, it’s Jack.” He watches as confusion blooms across your features. “Now I can’t in good faith tell you what it is I do for a living but I sure as hell ain’t no pilot. I don’t li-”

“No.” You bring a hand up to stop him as the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place. “You told me- you- you were so-” you shake your head in disbelief as you stumble back, strings of mumbled ‘no’s falling from your lips. Your hand clutches the door handle for support. He watches as you inhale shallow breaths, your eyes darting across the floor.

“I thought you loved me,” you whisper finally. He would’ve missed it had he not been paying you so much attention.

“I only told you what you wanted to hear darlin’.” The weight of his words crash into you with full force and you struggle to breathe. You clutch a hand to your chest, clawing at the invisible knife that’s stabbing at your heart. “You don’t know anything about me, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!” You throw yourself at him and shove him hard. He stumbles into the hallway until his back hits the wall. “You have no right to call me that!” You sneer. Turning away from him, you shake your head in disgust. You pace across the walkway as you compose your thoughts.

Eventually, you stop in front of your open door as you turn your head to look at him. When you speak, there’s a calmness to your voice that makes his stomach lurch in disgust. “You talked about wanting a love that lasts. A love so strong that you would do anything to keep it but you know what?” You raise your eyebrow at him tauntingly. “A man like you?” You scoff. “You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.”

You step over his discarded duffle bag before slamming the door shut behind you. Tears well in your eyes as you lean your back against the stained wood. Your shoulders drop in defeat as you slide to the ground, silent sobs wracking through your body. You’d fallen for the ghost of a man, a creation of your imagination—of his. But why did the pain feel so real?

Through clouded eyes, the photo frame sitting on your shared bookshelf catches your attention and something in you snaps.

You storm across the room and hurl the offensive object at the wall. The shattering of glass rings out in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the pain in your chest. Your glare fixes onto the collection of books the pair of you had started and you grit your teeth at the sight. Angry sobs echo across your empty apartment as you yank books of the shelf.

You want every trace of him gone.

●●●●

When Jack gets back to headquarters, he’s greeted with proud smiles and shoulder clasps. Champagne gives his usual debriefing speech but Jack can’t stop your words from echoing through his mind.

You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.

Deep down, he understands that they were words said out of anger. He wants to believe that you didn’t mean them. But a small part of him can’t help but wonder… maybe you were right. No matter what he did, he never seems to be able to save the people he loved from getting hurt.

The truth is, he’d never meant to fall for you or to have his affections returned. But the longer his little charade went on, the more he felt himself losing himself in the make believe of it all. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed the feeling of redamancy until you started loving him back.

The thrill that had shot through his body with every gentle touch you gave him. The warmth that filled his chest with every smile you sent his way. It felt like the first balmy sunbeams of spring thawing the frozen ground after a long, icy winter. He had relished in the feeling - the relief of knowing he hadn’t gone completely numb to all emotion. He got so caught up in the bliss that he almost forgot about the hurricane of deceit that loomed over his head, threatening to make landfall at any moment.

●●●●

Years later, when his muscles are stiff and his mind heavy with the burden of past missions, he’s finally ready to surrender his code name. He’s helped bring down countless criminal organisations and he was done. He was tired of the continual fighting; tired of the secrets and lies.

He loved his job, don’t get him wrong. The Statesman gave him a home when his had been so cruelly stolen from him. They gave him a purpose when he felt nothing more than blind rage.

But he never quite managed to quench the tiny fragment of him that longed for a normal life. A life free from the looming threat of violence and death. A life where he has a local bar & grill and they know his order off by heart. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He hopes he still has the chance to find out.

The months with you feel like a distant memory now, but the emotions remain. At times, he thinks he sees your face amongst a sea of strangers. He thinks he hears your voice, lulling him to the land of dreams. He thinks he remembers the taste of your lips against his, but he can’t be sure.

●●●●

Glancing to the numbers by the door as he crumples the sheet of paper in his grip. He straightens the leather jacket before delivering three firm knocks against the door. The silence that he’s met with allows for the doubt to sink in.

Did you even want to see him? What could he possibly say to you to make up for the hurt? What if you’ve moved on? What if this just stands to cause you more pain? What if you hate him? You have every right to hate him. He hates himself for what he did to you.

A metallic clinking jolts him from his thoughts and he reaches instinctively for the ghost of his lasso as he turns. His breath hitches when his gaze falls on you. The expression you wear is somewhere between anger and hurt and he doesn’t know which one he hates more.

You stare at each other for a quiet moment before both attempting to speak at once. Your overlapping voices form an abrupt dissonance that startles even yourselves.

“I wanted to-”

“What are you-” He clears his throat awkwardly and you bring your arm up, gesturing for him to continue.

“I owe you a formal explanation,” he states. You scoff quietly. He owes you a lot more than that. “Perhaps we could talk in a more… private setting” He eyes the neighbouring doors suspiciously. A raised, unimpressed eyebrow is your only response. “The things I need to say… they aren’t for the public ear.” You roll your eyes at him. There was always some secret with him. When you fold your arms across your chest, he softens. “Please.”

A part of you hates him. It wants to scream and hurl insults at him until your throat is raw. But a bigger part of you needs to know why he had left. What he’d meant when he said it was ‘just the job’. Why he’d lied to you the whole time.

There’s a slight downturn in his lips that makes the rope around your heart tighten its grip and you want nothing more than to cut yourself free. But there’s a sliver of vulnerability in his eyes that makes it difficult to hold your anger.

With a sigh, you pick your dropped keys off the floor, step around him and key the door open with more force than necessary. You hold it open for him before leaning against the other side.

Jack looks around awkwardly as he takes in the signs of you that are scattered throughout the space. He notes the distinctive lack of him. All remnants of him had been wiped clean. Although, he supposes they weren’t really parts of him to begin with. They were parts of the man he wanted to be. The man he will never be.

The sound of you clearing your throat jolts him from his spiralling thoughts. There’s a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before and he shrinks back slightly, feeling painfully out of place. He can’t recall the last time he was this nervous and he shifts his weight uncomfortably. You drum your fingers impatiently across your folded arm and he inhales deeply before beginning. Come hell or high water, there was no going back now.

“M’ real name is Jack, Jack Daniels.” The drumming stops. You stare at him, dumbfounded. An incredulous laugh threatens to leave your lips - he honestly expected you to believe that that is his name? But there’s no trace of humour in his eyes so you clamp your mouth shut. “I was an agent for a secret intelligence agency known as Statesman. Now, Alex was-” he pauses as he grapples for the right words, “a made-up persona, designed to capture your interest, so to speak.” You inhale sharply, though you hide it well. He continues. “You should know, it wasn’t you that we were after. Your friends were involved with some… suspicious people and we needed t-” you hold out a hand to stop him.

“What do you mean ‘suspicious’?” You push off the door to step toward him. “My friends aren’t criminals!” He holds his arms up in defence.

“No, they weren’t. But they were involved with some. It made them suspects. But you…” he looks to you for permission to proceed. You nod stiffly. “You were a tough nut t’ crack. Not even our finest agents could find a damn thing about you and that made you peculiar- an anomaly.” He tilts his head towards you as if congratulating you on a feat. His voice deepens when he says, “we don’t like anomalies,” and you scoff at the tone.

“So they sent you,” you sneered, failing to mask your appalled tone.

“There ain’t nothing better than live intel swe-” he stops himself short. He sees the way you start recoiling from him but he keeps going. “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it had and I truly do apologise for fooling you but we had to know you weren’t a threat.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. Blank pieces start to fill themselves with vivid colours of truth. You were nothing but a pawn on a chessboard being manipulated. Your legs feel weak and you move to sit against the arm of the couch. He follows your movement, turning to you as you walk. There’s a distant look in your eyes and he gives you a moment for the words to sink in.

“While the night we met may have been a setup-” he takes a hesitant step towards you and your eyes snap up to meet his, “my feelings for you were not.” You narrow your eyes at him and he stops pacing. He observes the subtle clenching of your jaw and he decides to crack open the box that he’d buried a long time ago. He needs you to see there’s a real bleeding heart beneath the facade he’d been forced to weave for you.

“I lost someone very dear to me once, a long time ago.” His gaze dances between you and the objects in the room. “I never thought I’d find someone after her. But then you-“ He stops short. Sighs. Worries his lip between his teeth for a moment before speaking. This all seems so far-fetched now.

“You were never meant to get caught in the crossfire of all this.” His voice is but a whisper, like he was speaking a sacred confession. There’s a new note to his voice as his eyes flit back and forth between your own, as though studying them for any kind of reaction he could get. “I love you.”

The room falls silent. Jack swears he can hear the distant ticking on a clock from deeper within your home. His heart hammers in his chest, the resonant beating echoes into his ears.

Finally, you smile. “You wanna know something?” There’s a sinister tone lacing your voice and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I never thought that a lie could sound so sweet,” you chuckle lowly, “until you opened your mouth and said you loved me.”

Jack feels his stomach lurch in response to your words. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He supposes he’ll never know.

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @hillarymurray4 @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @cryptkeepersoul @agirllovespasta @wickedfrsgrl @dindisneydjarin @opheliaelysia @aeryntheofficial @adikaofmandalore @goldafterglow @yespolkadotkitty @chibi-liz05 @scarlettvonsass @rpcvliz @cinewhore @basura2319 @theravenreads @mxndoscyarika @jaime1110 @f0rever15elf @pancakepike @phoenixhalliwell @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @apunkpascal

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman: the golden circle #angstageddon #kay writes

85 notes · View notes

amythedvdhoarder · 4 years

Text

Undercover

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard

26th of June prompt: Please shut the…

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: You and Bucky have to act as a couple during a mission

Warnings: Swearing and Pure fluff

Authors notes: GIF not mine. Another Bucky one-shot for you. I am trying to keep the plots interesting I think. Thanks to those of you reading this, I am really enjoying the comments from some of you. Please let me know what you think! X

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

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

“Please shut the door Y/N” Steve and Fury watched you as you sat down in the unoccupied chair next to Bucky. “We won’t take up too much of your time. So …” Fury cut Steve off. “Well get straight to the damn point rather than apologising Cap, they know that this is obviously about a mission.” Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Bucky relax slightly and quickly glance across at you. You ignored this and crossed your legs, waiting for someone to explain what was happening. “We need you to go to a party in Berlin for some recon work.” Steve looked worried but you couldn’t understand why. Recon missions were simple enough. “What’s the catch?” Bucky interjected. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “We need you to act as a couple.” You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to show any emotion. “Why us? Nat is best at recon.” Fury stood up now. “Because Y/N you two aren’t as well-known as everyone else. Everyone else would get made within the first 5 minutes. You and Barnes are more invisible.” It would be easy to take offence at this but you knew it was true. Fury was starting to get impatient. “Party is tomorrow so you will fly out in the morning. We think they are an involved in dealing some stolen weapons. Find out everything you can.” With that he left the room. Steve handed over the information jackets for you to study and dismissed you both.

You and Bucky walked to the corridor in silence. A small smile played over Bucky’s lips as he stopped outside your room. “Do you want to go over it tonight?” As you reached for your door handle you turned to look at him. “Yeah sure, see you later Bucky.” Closing the door behind softly you let out a relieved sigh. You threw the file onto your coffee, raked your hair up into a messy bun before flopping down on the sofa. It took less than an hour to read the file over twice. It seemed pretty straight forward. Try and gather as much information at the party and if all else failed then search the house once everyone had gone to bed. The guest list was made up of the rich and powerful from across the world, some with backgrounds in organised crime. Bucky was fluent in many languages and you were good at reading body language and a dab hand at lipreading. Really you were going to make an incredible team and acting as a couple wasn’t going to be as difficult as Steve thought.

It was 2 in the morning when Bucky knocked quietly on your door. You padded over the door and opened it. Bucky stepped in and waited for the door to close before sweeping you up in his arms and capturing your lips with his. “Hey, put me down you moron” you grumbled against his mouth. He slid you down his body until your feet hit the floor, his hands on your hips. “I thought Fury and Steve had found out about us when you walked into the office this morning.” You rolled your eyes as he tucked a lose strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you believe we actually get to act like a couple whilst being undercover? It’s going to be so easy” You frowned slightly. “Not sure about easy but it’s going to be less acting than our everyday lives.” You took Bucky’s hand and dragged him towards the sofa. Bucky laid down in the sofa his head resting on your lap, your fingers running through his hair. “We are going to have to tell them about us you know, it’s been 6 months.” Bucky tilted his head back his blue eyes fixed on yours. “I know Y/N, we will, but I just want to stay in the bubble a little longer.” Leaning down you pressed a kiss to his lips. After discussing the finer details of the mission Bucky reluctantly headed back to his own room. Part of hiding your relationship relied on you not waking up with one another, it was something that was starting to bother you. That’s why you were excited for the mission tomorrow. For once you and Bucky could hold hands, whisper to each other, kiss one another, hell just be yourselves for a change. Well, whilst pretending to be a completely different couple.

The mission went down without a hitch. Between you and Bucky you found out the host was in fact an arms dealer and who he was supplying. No one ever suspected either of you. Bucky clung to you the whole night as you both mingled, danced and despite working managed to have an enjoyable night. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as Bucky flew you both back to New York the next morning. As you looked across at him you could see he was feeling the exact same thing. You were both going back undercover; hiding your true selves from the rest of your teammates.

An hour or so into the flight Bucky let out a loud sigh. “Doll, I’m not sure I can do this anymore.” Panic flooded through your body. “Buck, what do you mean?” Bucky glanced over and noticed how your eyes had widened and the colour had drained from your face. “Shit Y/N, I didn’t mean us.” He turned the jet onto autopilot and come to kneel in front of you. He took your hands in his and pressed kissed to each of your knuckles before holding them in your lap. “Doll, look at me.” You were still unsure where this was going but met his gaze. “I love you Y/N, I don’t want to hide anymore. The bubble was nice but after last night I don’t think I can go back to hiding.” Bucky was caught off guard when you began to attack his lips. After getting over the initial shock he responded with the same fiery passion. Your tongue glided over his bottom lip and he opened up, releasing a moan into your mouth as your tongue danced with his. Minutes later you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your forehead rested against his. “I love you Buck” you panted in between breaths. He chuckled “I kinda gathered that from your sudden attack.” You shoved him playfully back towards the pilot’s seat.

Bucky woke you from your nap when you landed. “Steve wants to meet us for a debrief straight away” You yawned and stood up, stretching out your limbs after the long flight. Bucky intertwined his fingers with your and led the way to the briefing room. Steve was waiting for you when you arrived. He raised his eyebrow when you and Bucky entered holding hands. “You two know you’re not undercover now don’t you?” Both of you sat down in the same chairs you were in only a couple of days ago, not letting go of one another. “Yeah we’re not idiots’ punk.” Steve alternated his gaze between you still utterly confused. “Then why are you still holding hands?” You stifled a laugh as Bucky continued to torment Steve. “Considering you’re America’s hero you can be quite thick sometimes punk.” Steve folded his arms across his chest. You took pity on the disgruntle super soldier who was none the wiser. “Steve, me and Buck have been seeing each other in secret for the last 6 months.” You braced yourself for a lecture but it never came. Instead Steve was grinning. “I knew it.” He said quietly. Bucky scoffed at this. “You didn’t have a clue pal. I thought you didn’t lie?” Steve’s cheeks went a little pink. “Fine, I didn’t know exactly what had been going on but I noticed how much happier you seemed Buck.” You shot a smile at Bucky who squeezed your hand in return. “Did you want to debrief Steve or interrogate us about our relationship? Me and my girl have got six months of PDA to catch up on.” Bucky winked at you and you giggled watching as Steve tried to work out exactly what his best friend meant.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm, @alexa-lightwood-blog

#flex your writing muscles challenge #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky #bucky barnes #buck fluff #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel fanfics #avengers #writing challenge

167 notes · View notes

mell-bell · 4 years

Text

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part III

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 5135

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 3/8

Author’s notes: You guys are seriously the best thank you for reading!!! I love you all. When I first wrote this I thought it was gonna be short but once again it kinda imploded and thus 5000 but such is life. So sorry if there are spelling mistakes or such I’ve edited so many times I’m going crosseyed. I think I tagged everyone who asked, if not please just drop me a message! Hope you guys enjoy!!!!!

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

“Hey, no! Put that down!”

A gruff shout pulled you from sleep.

With a groan, you rolled over burrowing back into the warm blanket, pulling the long sleeves of the shirt you had stolen over your frozen fingers.

That infuriating man refused to pay for any type of heating system on this ship, claiming his armor and your clothes would be enough to keep you both warm.

“Stop!”

A crash echoed from the front of the ship as if something had slammed into the front window.

Your eyes shot open, squinting against the sun shining into the room. You focused your eyes at the clock, groaning at the blinking numbers. You had only slept for two hours.

Ever since you had escaped from the Imperials and Stormtroopers almost a month ago, you had been jumping from planet to planet.

Two weeks ago, you had thought you found a safe place. But four days after your arrival, a mercenary had broken onto the ship, slipping through a panel in the dead of night. Mercifully, the Mandalorian had dealt with him quickly before any harm could be done. But when he showed you the fob, you knew they were still tracking the little green child.

It was then that you both decided someone should guard the ship at night. At first, the Mandalorian had claimed he would take every night and even though you knew better, you let him try. It wasn’t until two days later when he fell asleep in the middle of eating lunch that you told him you would be alternating nights.

And you had been on guard duty last night. The man and child sound asleep inside while you froze your ass off sitting outside the ship staring into the dark forest.

You landed here three days ago and although everything seemed quiet, you both knew not to risk it now.

Risk wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. Your Mandalorian had basically become your shadow. Anytime you left the ship, he would be at your back.

At first, you found it annoying, but one day in a market, a stranger had grabbed onto your arm. And you almost snapped. If he hadn’t stepped between the two of you, you would have shot the innocent man. Now knowing that he was always just a step behind you was a weight off your chest.

Rolling out of bed, you pulled on some heavy socks grumbling at the fact that he had picked the one planet where it was heavily snowing. Running your hands over your eyes trying to rub the sleep from them, you began to make your way through the ship. As you grew closer to the cockpit you could hear muffled curses and continuous bangs.

“What on Hoth is all this racket-“ You froze, the words catching in your throat at the sight before you.

The Mandalorian was sprawled on the ground, tangled up in a net, his finger pointed sternly at the little green child perched on the pilot’s seat, who chirped excitedly when he saw you.

Your face broke out into a wide smile but before you could make a noise, the warrior moved his gaze toward you.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You nodded solemnly fighting back laughter, a small snort escaping before you turned on your heel and left the room.

Stepping to the side, out of sight, you listened quietly as the man continued to reprimand the little child quietly before explaining how to be safe around his weapons.

Still chuckling quietly to yourself, you made your way to the back of the ship where you had created a makeshift kitchen and dining area.

There was no way you were going back to bed now.

Life together had become somewhat of a domestic thing. This ship had become home. You had argued with the Mandalorian for days when he stated he was giving you his room. You had even slept in the cockpit one night just to spite him. But when he promised to build himself his own room, you finally relented.

Things between the two of you had taken some time to get back to normal. The guilt that had been eating away at the Mandalorian had faded. He didn’t tiptoe around you anymore. But you could see it in his movements and actions. He purposefully alerted you when he was around or how he never let you out of his sight. You were slowly moving on from what had happened to you. And for the most part, you had. But the lingering trauma was still there.

A quiet shuffle sounded behind you, alerting you to the child who waddled through the door. You reached down, passing him a bowl of soup. The child began to slurp happily, as you grabbed him placing him up on a chair at the table before turning back to finish cooking.

The little child had become a fixture in both of your lives. The child loved to hear you babble on about nothing. So, when you would work around the ship you would tell him what you were doing. Even the quiet warrior had begun to talk to him. Though it seemed like most of the time he was reprimanding him for touching things he shouldn’t.

“…Is that my shirt?” You heard a soft voice behind you.

Throwing a glance over your shoulder at the Mandalorian in the doorway, you chuckled, “That it is.”

“Why?”

Your brows furrowed confused at his statement, “What?”

“The shirt. Why are you wearing it?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

After a beat of silence and a slight tilt of the man’s head, you realized what you had said.

Stumbling over your words, you frantically sputtered out, “Nope, I mean the cold- uh, do you want some soup?”

You continued to babble about random things, making the small child chitter, all while ignoring the man who hadn’t moved an inch since you had spoken to him.

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

“I need you to spar with me.”

You leaned against the opening of the back of the ship, looking down the ramp as the Mandalorian tinkered on an outdoor panel. He turned around and slowly looked you up and down. Instinctively, you stood up straighter.

He nodded, “Get dressed and let’s go.”

You had healed nicely. Your hands had healed rather quickly, barely scarred, the salve the Mandalorian rubbed on it each night saw to that. The scar on your stomach was no more than a fleeting memory. Your ribs, on the other hand, still tweaked here and there. But after a month of rest, you were getting antsy.

You hadn’t been able to keep up with your usual regime without injuring yourself further. You had ripped your stitches more than once lifting something too heavy. And you had even tried to do some pushups one day, but when the Mandalorian walked past just in time, he lifted your whole body up and placed you back on the bed with a stern warning to rest and heal.

But it had only been a month. You should be back in fighting shape in no time.

Five minutes later, you hit the ground with a thud and groaned. The Mandalorian gently kicked your side, prompting you to get up.

He held out his hand and you raised yours to his. But when you saw it shaking, you curled your fingers into a tight fist trying to brush it off and instead reached down to the ground to push yourself up.

As the Mandalorian put you through the motions, he did so slowly. You expected your muscles to do what they were used to. But your body was stiff and too slow.

As you tripped, and fell, and missed, you grew frustrated. You slammed to the ground again and again. Your body was screaming and when the man before you asked if you wanted to stop, you ignored him. You got to your feet, wiped the blood from your nose, and raised your arms to start again.

He hesitated.

But when he saw the determination in your eyes, he sighed and started back up.

He reached out to help every time you fell, but when you didn’t take his hand, he pulled back with a sigh and continued to attack you knocking you down over and over.

After completing the first few exercises, he chucked you a baton as he held out his own.

You started slowly as you felt your muscles begin to remember the exercises that had been drilled into your head. But you could feel him holding back. He wasn’t hitting you hard. And you purposefully gave him opportunities to take you down. But he didn’t.

You pushed him, “Come on, hit me. I can take it.”

“Stop.” He warned as you swung out at him wildly.

“I can take it.” You growled.

He shook his head, taking a step back as he dodged your aggressive attacks, “You just started training. You need to take it easy.”

You let out a grunt of annoyance as he easily ducked your baton again.

“You never had problems attacking me before. Don’t go easy on me now, I’m not gonna break.”

He shook his head as he slammed the baton down at you again. Your arm screamed under the pressure but you still pushed back at him.

“Come on.” You shouted, reaching out and shoving him back.

He swung out and soon you were going faster and hitting harder. Right. Left. Right. Duck. Jump.

You smiled as you landed a blow. And then another. But you had been overconfident. Without warning, just like he had done before, he kicked out your legs from beneath you.

You slammed to the ground and looked up just in time to see the baton coming down at your head.

Only you didn’t see the baton. You saw a stormtrooper’s gun. Your eyes slammed shut, and you flinched back, as you tried to sink into the ground. When nothing hit you, you relaxed minutely.

A gentle hand touched your arm and you shot to your feet, quickly backing away from the Mandalorian. He held out his hands in a peace offering, gently placing the baton on the ground.

“I don’t need your pity.” You spit out.

He took a step forward reaching out, but you pulled away and took off down the hall.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were lying on the roof of the ship, looking at the stars, that he came to you.

He laid silently next to you, giving you the choice to start the conversation for yourself.

“I thought I was ready.” You whispered so quietly that when he didn’t respond you thought he hadn’t heard you. You sat up pulling your legs into your body, holding you shaking hands in tight fists.

“It’s going to take time.”

You pressed your shaking hands to your face, “We don’t have time. I need to be strong, not weak.”

He reached out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, covering your smaller ones in his, “You will be.”

You smiled, “Stronger than you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled.

“You know one of these days I want to spar you without your armor and see how you hold up.” You teased pulling a hand back to poke at his chest plate.

“You couldn’t handle me.”

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

As the month drew to a close, you sat down to shift through the food and supply rations you had left. Jumping from planet to planet this past month, you hadn’t had time to check what you were low on.

You sat propped against the wall as you checked off the last box of supplies. Frowning down at the numbers in front of you, you quickly counted and rechecked finding that it hadn’t been an error on your part.

Dropping the pad to the ground, you groaned closing your eyes.

A soft coo sounded next to you, and you peeked, seeing the green child chittering in front of you.

“Hey, go get your dad will you?”

The green child chirped as he began to waddle away.

A few minutes later, footsteps echoed in the ship as they grew closer. You were still leaning against the ship, your eyes closed.

You didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“We need money. One of us needs to take a client on.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“We’re running low on food. And supplies. We’re not going to last another month. I know it’s a risk but it’s one we have to take.”

The man sighed. And you opened your eyes, smiling when you saw the child resting happily in his arms.

“Fine.”

“Great!” You smiled jumping up, “I know just the place to go.”

A few hours later, the Mandalorian landed the ship on the outskirts of a forest.

Pulling on your red cape, you skipped happily past the warrior and child on the way down the ramp, “It’s nice to be back.”

This planet was a happy reprieve to the desolate snow planet you had just been on. The forest was in bloom in colorful flowers, the green of the trees brightening up the world around you. Taking a deep breath, you walked slowly along the trail, smiling at the chirping animals in the trees. The Mandalorian was on edge as he followed behind you, looking left and right as if he expected an enemy to come flying out of the trees.

“You said you had contacts here.” His voice steady, but you know he was wary of trusting anyone.

You nodded, “When I worked with Commander Trax, she sent me here for a long mission, I lived here for a month helping the citizens.”

Stopping at a tree abloom with bright yellow flowers, you smiled pulling a few off the twigs. You turned with a smile and bent down passing one to the little green child, motioning that he could eat it. And soon he was chomping down making happy little sounds, as you all continued along through the forest.

“Where are we going?”

“The cantina. If there’s any work under the table, it will be there. And hopefully, we’ll find my contact there. Easier than having to knock on every single door in town.”

As you reached the end of the tree line, the Mandalorian passed you one of his blasters. You rolled your eyes but shoved it in the back of your pants before you took off down the street.

It looked exactly the same. The town was small but homely. The market place bustling with merchants and buyers. You had loved living here.

As you continued down the street, you waved at the citizens you passed by. A few recognized you and greeted you by name, welcoming you back.

The Mandalorian walked slowly behind you, the child at his side. People passing by said hello and he offered each of them a solemn nod.

When you reached the door to the cantina, you waved back at the warrior silently telling him to remain behind. But when you walked through the door and all the blasters went up, you sighed.

The Mandalorian stepped in front of the small child and pushed you behind him, his own blaster raising as his gaze scanned the bar.

You moved around him, pushing his blaster down, “He’s a friend. I promise. I’m looking for Nyko.”

Murmurs echoed through the crowd of people before suddenly everyone parted and a woman walked toward you.

You smiled and the older woman smiled widely in return, “Well look who it is!”

She waved at the other’s to drop their weapons. Everybody obeyed and immediately turned back to their own conversations, though they were still throwing wary glances at the Mandalorian, who had moved to stand silently in the corner.

The woman walked right up to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Long time no see. What are you doing here? With a Mandalorian no less.”

You nodded toward the back corner, and she responded by placing her arm around your shoulders leading you to the furthest table in the back. Your Mandalorian followed behind you like a shadow.

“We’re looking for work under the table.”

Nyko nodded solemnly, this was business, “I’m assuming it has to do with that little green fellow.”

The Mandalorian started forward but you held up a hand.

“Yes.”

Nyko nodded, “I can probably find you something, but I’ll warn you things in the underworld work differently then you’re used to around here. You’re going to need to Compete if you want to work.”

You stiffened slightly and the Mandalorian stepped closer to you.

“Got yourself a watchdog here.”

“More like a partner.”

Nyko eyed the man curiously before she waved her hand, and people appeared out of the woodwork, joining you at the table.

Papers were passed around and introductions were made.

The Mandalorian watched in amazement as all the citizens looked and talked to you with respect.

You seemed to fit in nicely here. You looked happy.

You nodded one more time and gathered all the intel of the table, holding out your arm you waited and Nyko grabbed yours.

“Don’t wait five years next time you stop by to say hello. I wish you luck in the Competition.”

You smirked and her eyes glinted as she knew it was all but a joke to you.

Stepping out of the cantina, you began to walk back toward the ship, the Mandalorian and green child following behind. As you walked, you passed him the map Nyko had given you.

“We’re going to meet here. Gather your weapons. I will meet you once I stop by a few places to grab some supplies.”

You went to step away but a hand grabbed onto you.

“Be careful.” His voice was deep with worry.

You knew he had heard Nyko mention the Competition.

“You don’t need to worry about me here.” You offered him a sad smile.

You walked down the street missing the soft, “But I do” that fell from his lips.

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

You hadn’t been out of sight from your Mandalorian since you got back, and it put you on edge. Although you knew this was a safe town you couldn’t help the lingering feeling that someone was going to come out of the shadows.

As you reached the outskirts of town, you reached back making sure your blaster was easily accessible. With a deep breath, you followed Nyko’s directions through the trees. Left. Left. Right. Over the bridge. Right at the yellow tree.

The Competition was infamous around here. Hunters would step forward to compete. To decide who would be given the bounty. The winner’s reward was the puck.

Your red cape swept behind you as you pushed your way through the crowds of people. There was a reason you didn’t want him here with you. Didn’t want him to see you this way.

You shouldered another person out of the way, growling when they turned around to look at you. This was a big event. Bets were placed. Winners were rigged.

But you were here to win.

You stalked up to the table in the center, people moving out of your way when they saw your red cape float out behind you.

With a grin, you shoved your way to the front of the line, pushing the man in front out of the way you slammed your hand down on the table, “I’d like to enter.”

The man behind the desk sneered at you, but that quickly changed when you placed a heavy bag of coins in front of him.

Passing you a number, he took your coins testing the weight in his hand, “Good luck.”

“I won’t need it.”

You had only competed in a Competition once before, but this one was different. There weren’t any rules. People died here. You could kill, maim, and still win.

As you stood in line with the nine other contestants, you found maybe one or two that would cause you some trouble. A man twice your size, with a knife peeking out from his sleeve. And a woman small and slim, with a wicked grin on her face, you knew a mercenary when you saw one.

The first task was easy enough. Target practice.

Top five moved on.

You took your turns throwing well, until the last shot when you purposefully missed a target.

The man next to you snorted and you feigned defeat.

Next was an agility competition.

You had never jumped on these so-called agility poles before, but your quick footwork from the workouts the Mandalorian put you through helped you fly through.

It was down to two.

You and the man with the knife.

The last task. The cage fight.

You swallowed as the mixture of cheers and boos echoed throughout the cold room, the cage closing in around the two of you.

Pulling off your cape, you quickly wrapped your hands before facing the man who stood in the way of your bounty puck.

The bell rang and with a feral grin, you launched yourself at your opponent.

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

You arrived back at the ship, limping slightly, sporting a wide grin on your face.

The Mandalorian looked up and when he caught sight of you, stood quickly walking over, lifting your chin so he could see the growing bruise on your cheek.

You waved him off, “I’m fine.” You pressed the puck in his hand. “I’m gonna go clean up, you look into that.”

The man watched worriedly as you limped your way up the ramp.

After cleaning up, you met the warrior at the base of the ramp, he was packed and ready to go. Grabbing your pack from him, you swung it over your shoulder before following him back into town.

He worked quickly. In the few minutes you had taken to get ready, he had already scouted out where your bounty was located.

Motioning for you to do the honors, you kicked in the door. The dozen people in the room began to scatter, tripping over each other to reach the door. Pulling out your baton \, you began to knock their legs out from beneath them, only moving on when you didn’t see the face from the puck.

You grabbed the shirt of a man, hauling him to his feet, “Where is the man named Ronzan?”

The man frantically motioned to the back door. The Mandalorian shuffled over silently, his blaster raised as he kicked open the door. A scream sounded from inside and you grinned, letting the man from your grip go.

The man, known as Ronzan, was on the ground pleading with the Mandalorian standing over him.

Ronzan froze when he saw you, “I have money please.” He begged.

You rolled your eyes before reaching out and shocking the man, who fell back to the ground unconscious.

“You’re carrying him.” The Mandalorian stated, prodding the man’s body with his boot.

You looked down at the man and sighed. Reaching down you were about to haul him up when you heard a whimper echo in the room.

Furrowing your brow you began to look around the room. Pushing a desk against the wall, you pulled back the rug to find a hatch in the ground. With a quick whistle, you motioned to the Mandalorian in the corner to help you pry up the hatch.

The hole that opened up was dark and deep, the whimpers you had heard echoing from below. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the Mandalorian’s hand before stepping over the edge. The man slowly lowered you down into the dark hole. When your feet still didn’t touch the ground, you braced yourself. You squeezed his hand once and he let you drop.

You fell far, rolling once, twice, before pushing yourself to your feet. Reaching for the walls, you began to walk slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness around you.

“Hello?” You called out.

You continued walking when you suddenly tripped over a chain on the ground. Reaching out to grab it, you held it as you followed it. And at the end, you found a young girl.

“Hey...”

The girl flinched backward as you reached out. You hesitated. Reaching down you pulled a tool from your pack using it to snap the chain off.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. We need to go.” You pulled the girl up, she was freezing. She wrapped her arms around you and you held her close as you led her down the cold hall.

When you made it back to the hole above, you saw the Mandalorian looking down. He vanished from view and a second later, dropped down a rope that had knots tied in it.

Placing the young girl's hands on it, you prompted her to start climbing.

When she was close enough to the top, the Mandalorian above reached down grabbing onto the girl, pulling her up easily.

The young girl looked up at the warrior in awe, her hands hesitantly reaching out to touch the cool metal of his armor.

You pulled yourself to the surface just in time to see the young girl reach up to touch the Mandalorian’s helmet. The man flinched back and the girl shot back cowering in on herself.

You rushed forward, pulling the girl over to a bench, where you kneeled down in front of her.

“He’s a friend. A Mandalorian. Do you know what that is?” You prompted.

The girl shook her head, throwing a nervous gaze at the armored man.

You offered her a smile, “Well, he’s one of the best warriors in the galaxy. He can’t take off his helmet because if he does he won’t be allowed to put it back on. And doesn’t he just look dashing in it?”

You waited for the girl to nod her head.

“Alright, well I think it’s time to go.” You held out your hand, waiting for the girl to take it.

You motioned to the man in the corner, and you could feel the glare the Mandalorian gave you underneath his helmet as he lifted up throwing the unconscious man over his shoulder.

The trek back to the underworld was long. But a little less than an hour later, you had dropped off the unconscious male and received notice that the credits would be transferred to you.

On the way back to town through the forest, the young girl began to chitter on in a different language, you nodded your head along with her every time she looked at you.

When you reached the bustling town, you leaned down to the girl, “Do you recognize this place? Does your family live here?”

The girl nodded and began to drag you through the crowds. When she reached a small hut at the edge of town, she burst through the door. Inside you heard the clatter of objects and multiple gasps and shouts.

You cautiously stepped through the doorway to find the young girl in the arms of an older woman. You stepped forward, startling the woman, but when the younger girl began to speak in a different language to her mother, she relaxed.

Reaching out, she grabbed your hand tight, “Thank you, for saving my daughter.”

You offered her a smile, as you gazed around the small hut, the open room scarce of belongings, a cluster of young children crowded together on a bed in the corner.

Clearing your throat, you motioned to the older woman, “If you wouldn’t mind, I have something I would like to show you.”

The woman nodded slowly confused, but quickly gathered her children and followed you out the door.

On the other side of town, you unlocked the door to a small house that had long since been boarded up. The woman and her children stepped through the doorway. The youngest took a step forward, throwing a glance back at you, but when you just nodded at him he smiled before taking off to explore the new house.

“What is this place?” The Mandalorian wandered around the room, his hands drifting over knickknacks on the tables. He stopped in front of the fireplace when something caught his gaze. He stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing a photo propped on the mantel. It was you.

“This is where I used to live.”

You looked down at the key in your hand before turning to the young girl beside you, “This is yours now.”

The girl wrapped herself around you thanking you profusely. Her mother tried to resist but you assured her that you knew it would be in good hands. She promised to keep the door open if you ever wanted to come back.

You nodded as you slipped a piece of paper with your contact information into her hand, “If you ever need anything.”

She nodded tears in her eyes.

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

“How did- why-“ The man was at a loss for words as you walked back to the ship.

“After my parents died, before I worked for Commander Trax, a man like that owned me. I got hired to do some work at a young age and got in too deep before I realized he had complete control of me. Commander Trax saved me.”

The man nodded, “You changed their lives.”

You knew.

“I never told you about my helmet, how did-?”

You cut him off, “I worked with a Mandalorian in the past. I learned a lot from him. He told me about many of your beliefs. That’s why I never pried. It’s your right.”

The rest of the walk was made in silence.

When you finally made it back to ship, you paid the woman Nyko had hired to watch the little green child.

She happily passed him over, claiming he had caused too much chaos and that she was sorry for the mess he had caused on the ship.

The child settled comfortably in your arms as he chittered excitedly. You spoke softly to him in return.

As you began to climb the ramp, the Mandalorian reached out grabbing your arm, “Thank you.”

You shot him a smile.

Later that night, you were lying on the top of the ship staring at the stars. The transfer had gone through, the credits now officially yours. You had been paid handsomely.

Soft footsteps vibrated against the metal of the ship as the man settled beside you, “You could be happy here.”

“I could.” You agreed.

“You could s-“

You sat up abruptly before he could finish his sentence and he followed. Turning to look at him, you leaned over pressing your lips to the cold metal of his helmet.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere.”

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

Tagged: @sargesbestgirl @abysswhiskey11 @yourfavoritearchangel @pedro-pascal-online @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @damnittjim @trickei @countessren @fun-sized-widow-bites @thefandomzoneisdangerous @ichigomiluku @bakerstreethound @clonesdeservelovetoo @bananyaaa @loveleah @javert-delacour @zoogrl05 @live-the-beautiful-game @maryan028 @ignimbritetcax @kaidad @kaimoar @yana-versio @peitromoximaff @alittleraincloud @fuckhead-writer @dottie-witch @nowheredreamer @pandalandalopalis @loveharrington @sw0rd-girlfriend @lex0h @piquantbarnes @go-commander-kim @finefangirl @lmao5sosimagines @bandofmarvels @nayploonthedoon @tchallaudakux @allthosepacheeks @i-think-of-dean-moriarty @otherthingsinhead @songofcosplay @cloudykooks @spooky-nob @takemebillyhargrove @flyingowls @funkygreensucculent @andromeda-sighs @audiblesmirk @out-worn @lessthancooljay @whtvrwhizzer @banana-batman @panic-monsters @vamprlestat @clevervast @ghelp0 @just-another-fangirls-posts @jinthusiastsss @c1996 @maldo559 @yelenasnatashas @chewymoustachio @heyo--its--mo @hexqueensupreme @ozzy-bozzy @spideydobrik @t-rexmoreliket-flex @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @teenagememetonight @salted-barbed-wire

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars #dyn jarren #mando ff #my fanfic #Star Wars fanfic #mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #mando is love mando is life #fight so dirty #fight so dirty ff

1K notes · View notes

freshouttaparsnips · 3 years

Photo

Stretch is healing, getting over the hurts of the past. Until they come literally knocking at his front door.

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

this is a sad fic ya’ll, no happy endings yet but there will be a continuation! (if anyone wants to fund a chapter or two, it’ll be sooner rather than later XD)

tags: Hurt/Comfort, minor fluff, Angst, relationship angst, this is basically just sad, no happy endings here, at least not yet, fluff in the future!

read it on Ao3

or read it below!

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

They were all having fun, for once. Blue had dragged him out of bed a few hours before to get a shower and get dressed, which was a lot easier these days than it had been. It’d only been a few days since his last shower, this time, which made it easier to step inside the little glass box and scrub down until his bones tingled.

Stepping up to his closet, towel around his waist and water droplets shining under the titty light on the ceiling. He could wear the “Bad to the BONE” shirt today, Papyrus would get a kick out of it and it’d make his brother smile, at least a little.

Or the “I make science puns periodically”, that was a favorite, and the texture of the shirt was nice and soft after repeated washes. His decision having been made, his bones were succinctly dried and the shirt was pulled on, as well as a pair of soft boxers and one of his pairs of light blue sweats.

It’d warmed up outside significantly, enough that the sweats might have been a little bit of overkill, but it was a party. He wanted to at least be comfortable in his own home. He hadn’t gotten a lot of that until a month or two ago, so it was a nice sensation to have back.

Blue was waiting downstairs when he tromped down them, holding the handle to the vacuum cleaner and grinning wide as Stretch took it without a word. He’d partially made the mess in the living room over the past week, and it looked like Blue had already taken all the extra dishes and trash out, so the least he could do was clean the floor a little.

The whir of the vacuum was soothing, at least until he hit a few things it didn’t want to suck up, that was always a fun mini heart attack. They were all easily taken care of though, so he let his mind wander as he went about the floor.

Blue must have started cooking that morning, seeing as how there were already a couple cheese trays sitting out on the tables in the living room. Monster cheese, so it wouldn’t spoil being out, but Stretch had almost preferred dairy cheese; he hoped Blue had another tray of it in the fridge or something.

He could smell the rich scents of something chocolate and something fruity coming from where Blue had disappeared in the kitchen, making his stomach grumble. He’d have to get some breakfast after this, maybe some toast with a nice piece of american cheese sandwiched between the bread.

He hoped Red actually came this time. Stretch had taken the whole thing pretty hard, but Red had taken it the hardest. Hadn’t left his house for weeks, hadn’t come to join them for a movie night for at least a year.

He still didn’t come every time, and always had a vague vibe of guilt whenever he looked at Stretch, not that he cared.

What happened, happened. There wasn’t anything anyone could have done differently. And it’d been three years, so it wasn’t like it really mattered that much anymore either way.

The vacuum clicking off, the glorious white noise gone, Stretch noticed a faint hint of sinatra playing in the kitchen, and for a moment more, he was taken back.

Back to warm hands holding his own, the music turned loud as he laughed and swayed with his soon to be husband. Red eyelights staring at him in adoration, a small, secret grin stolen from the music that danced with them both.

Shaking himself out of it, Stretch wiped at his face with his sleeve until the wayward tears were gone. He wasn’t going to ruin today.

Blue smiled softly at him as he walked into the kitchen, taking a large loaf of what looked and smelled like banana bread out of the oven. Stretch went to pinch a piece, laughing as he was smacked away before grabbing the bread and popping two pieces in the toaster.

Blue set about icing the tray of cookies he’d been letting cool, studiously not looking up at Stretch.

“Red said he’d come this time. He’s been busy at the Embassy, but he needed the break.”

Stretch nodded, watching the toaster rather than look at the despondency of his brother. He and Red, at one point, had been thick as thieves. Stretch would have believed it fully if they’d ever gotten serious, but as time went on… well. Things happen, and you lose sight of what used to be important, but wasn’t anymore.

The pop of the toaster startled him, a small laugh forced out as he grabbed a slice and began buttering.

“I just wanted you to know, in case he brings anything with him. I know the last couple times he hid a few bottles of whiskey in his damn coat, so I told him to at least bring a case to share if he was going to bring alcohol.”

Stretch paused, trying not to outwardly wince.

Blue was many things… and frugal with alcohol when he was depressed was not one of them.

“Just…” Stretch started, but closed his mouth. Blue was an adult, older than him even. If he wanted to spend a night getting drunk with his friends, when he’d done so well recently, then Stretch wouldn’t say anything.

He’d worry from the sidelines, but he wouldn’t say anything.

“Just be careful, yeah?” he finally settled on, and Blue chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent making the actual food they’d be eating; a whole platter of nachos that would do actual restaurants proud, as well as several servings of rice and beans and homemade quesos.

All of it made Stretch’s mouth water; his bro was no slouch when it came to cooking mexican food.

But he waited diligently, snacking on a sandwich just before the first guests were set to arrive.

Blue had told everyone to come around 6, which meant that just about now…

The knock at the door, hard and unrelenting, was almost comically on time, Stretch letting his brother have the option to go answer it. He did, letting Red in with a small smile that Red returned.

There might be something more there, someday. Stretch hoped so, they both deserved it.

“‘Ey Stretch, how’s it shakin’?” Red asked, setting two boxes of beer on the side table Blue had directed him to. Stretch tried not to glare at it all, instead focusing on Red.

“Its been fine. Better.”

Red nodded, seemingly pleased. “Good to hear.” And with that he settled on the floor, pulling an X Box out of his inventory and setting it up to their jacked up TV. Stretch left him to it; he’d get a chance to play something later. Right now he was waiting on their second batch of guests, which… also were the last, but that was okay.

It took another half hour for the customary shake and a haircut to sound at the door, and this time Stretch answered, finishing the song and letting Papyrus and Sans inside. They were both carrying tupperware of what looked and smelled like more food… they were having a real feast that night, huh?

Blue greeted Papyrus warmly, the two of them taking off to the kitchen to unpack, leaving Stretch with Sans.

Sans was giving him that searching look that he honestly hated, but there was also really nothing to do but stand there and bear it. Let the old man get his reassurance that Stretch wasn’t about to fall down… it was worth it so they wouldn’t all worry.

“Lookin’ better today, bro.” Sans finally said, satisfied with whatever he saw, and Stretch grinned, nodding.

“Yeah, and you’re looking old as ever.”

Flopping back on the couch, Sans raised a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, kiddo, how could you do me this way.”

“He could be a lot worse and call you an old fartin’ bastard, like yer are.” Red piped up, playing some kind of platformer while he waited. Stretch and Sans both snickered, but Sans glanced up at Stretch, looking him up and down before patting the couch cushion he wasn’t taking up.

“Park it, kid, the food’ll be done soon and Paps wanted to say somethin’ before we all ate.”

Stretch glanced to the kitchen, but after looking down at an earnest Sans, he did as told, flopping on the opposite end of the couch so he could stretch (heh) his legs out.

Things were quiet, the only sounds coming from Red’s game, which was turned down, and Blue and Papyrus talking in the kitchen.

At least until they started moving the food into the living room on the fold out table Blue had set up, the smells and sights mouthwatering.

It all looked delicious, Stretch saying so and relishing in the pride it brought on their faces.

But before they all got up, Papyrus stood tall, ready to say whatever it was he needed to say, Stretch waiting with an open mind to listen… when a final knock came at the door.

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else coming… so Stretch stood, walking past confused and wary guests alike, walking to the door and unlocking it before opening… only to find Edge standing there.

He looked. Tired. Worn down. His thick leather jacket looked like it’d seen better days, and Stretch would know, seeing as how it’d been an anniversary present.

His eyelights were smaller, less bright red. He had a few more scars on the bones that Stretch could see, and all in all, he no longer had any of that pride about him that had bugged Stretch so much.

It threw him back, back to the day that he’d proposed to Edge. They’d both been happy, crying and kissing each other as Edge slipped the ring on his own finger and Stretch had gotten up, to go take a shower.

Just a shower. Just to get clean, so they could go out of their little shared apartment and tell their brothers.

It’d been silent, the whole time he’d been inside, so Stretch had called for Edge a few times, but nothing had been answered.

When he got out, it was like a silent storm had blown through, clothes strewn everywhere, one of their suitcases missing and most of Edge’s favorite clothes gone as well.

He’d left. Without saying a word, without even taking his phone. Without saying goodbye.

And here he stood, three years later, looking like a kicked puppy and if that didn’t piss Stretch off more than nothing else had, he wasn’t sure he would ever be this angry again.

“You left.”

The words hung in the air between them, seeming almost like a physical blow to Edge’s soul, seeing as how his HP dropped a few digits hearing it.

“I know.” was the whispered reply. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Just “I know.”

“Then you know where you belong. And its not here.” Stretch answered, shutting the door with a click.

He knew everyone behind him was waiting, waiting for the answers he needed to give them about who was at the door.

By the way Red was standing, stock still in the middle of the room, Stretch had a feeling he already knew.

But he couldn’t do this. Taking a short cut up to his room, he listened as pandemonium broke out downstairs, his door locked as Blue tried to come up and ask him what the hell was going on, but Stretch just said a simple “Go answer the door.” and left it at that.

He felt… numb. Emotionless would have been incorrect, because on the inside he was furious. Seething, he sat up, wrapping his arms around himself.

Edge didn’t care about him. That was the bottom line. If he had, he never would have left.

And as far as Stretch was concerned? He never came back.

#fresh writes #undertale #papcest #spicyhoney #angst #relationship angst #hurt/comfort

11 notes · View notes