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hangovercurse · 3 years

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Stay With You

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I have been following every update from Rook and his Dad bc I have been so worried. It looks like he’s finally able to go home tonight but I’m still going out of my mind. I tried my best to do what happened justice (without being too depressing) and ended up needing a part 2. I had to reread what happened like 30 times so y’all better enjoy this just for my heartbreak alone.

Word Count: 3409

part ii

You were always scared when you got a phone call from an unknown number when Rook was out for the night. You’d gotten calls from the police station and hospital more than once, so you’d learn to expect trouble when your phone rang.

But this was not what you were expecting.

“Excuse me, is this Y/N Y/L/N, the emergency contact for JP Cappelletty?” A female’s voice rang out through the line. You rolled your eyes.

“This is her, what did he do this time?” You smiled, figuring he’d gotten hurt doing something stupid and just needed stiches.

She cleared her throat, “Mr. Cappelletty has been involved in a serious accident. He’s currently at Southern California Hospital awaiting treatment.”

You felt like your entire body stopped working. Your throat closed up and you started shaking. A normal phone call wouldn’t use the words “serious accident,” they would just say he’d been admitted for “minor treatment.”

“Can I come see him?” You barely got the words out, mind spinning in a million directions. The lady on the end of the phone gave you an affirmation and you thanked her, hanging up quickly and packing a small bag for you and Rook. You threw some of his clothes in, some hygiene supplies for you both, and anything else you could think he’d want. You texted your boss a quick explanation and asked for the next few days off before grabbing your keys, wallet, mask, and Rook’s insurance cards, and heading out the door.

You drove to the hospital, calling Colson on your way, on speaker, of course. “Whaddup?”

“Rook is in the hospital.” You rushed out, still in a bit of a panicked mode.

You could hear his breathing pause before he continued, “it’s probably nothing, you know Rook. He probably just punched a guy or something stupid.”

You had tried to convince yourself of that, but something felt wrong about it. “I know, but the hospital said he was in a serious accident.” You emphasized the word “serious.” “Maybe I’m overreacting but I have this really bad feeling right now.”

Colson’s voice held more worry after your statement, too. “Okay. Just get there and figure out what’s going on and then call me. What hospital is he at?”

“Southern California.”

“That’s like 10 minutes away from me. If it is serious, just call me back and I can be there.” His voice was much calmer than yours, which you were thankful for.”

“Okay.”

“And Y/N,” He paused, “try to stay calm. If it is bad, he’s gonna need you to take care of him.”

You took in a deep breath, trying to slow your heartrate. “Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks.”

“Let me know what’s going on.”

“I will. Thank you, Kells.” You hung up the phone, pulling into the hospital parking garage and turning your car off. You sat in the dark for a few moments, gathering your thoughts, before heading towards the hospital. When you reached the front desk, you gave them Rook’s name and waited as they read your temperature from the touchless thermometer. You had to stop yourself from groaning as she started reading the Covid questionnaire, answering no to every question.

The lady gave you directions to his room, telling you they’ll take your ID once you get up to the fourth floor. Your hands were shaking as you rode the elevator up, and you tried to calm yourself down before you saw your boyfriend. Colson was right, you worrying wouldn’t do anything but make him nervous.

You gave your ID to the security guard on the fourth floor, impatiently waiting for him to print out your visitor’s sticker. Once you had put it on, you walked down the hallway, counting the room numbers to find his. Once you reached the door, you took a deep breath, unsure what you would find beyond it.

You opened it slowly, a sigh of relief when you saw him sitting on the bed, an ice pack pressed against his face. “Babe!” His face lit up when he saw you. He tried to lean forward on his own, but his grimace told you that it hurt him too much.

You smiled, setting the bag in your hands on the floor and adjusting the bed so he didn’t have to lean. “What happened?” You whispered, taking in his state, and pulling down your mask. He had a small bruise under his left eye and there were wires and tubes running up his left arm. His right arm was wrapped in layers of hospital bandage.

He frowned at you, left hand reaching for your hand and motioned you to sit down beside him, so you did, gently. You wanted to hold his hand, but you were worried it would hurt him more, so you settled to rubbing his thigh gently. “I was walking around in the hills, and then these two guys came out of fucking nowhere. They jumped me and my friend and took a bunch of our shit. I punched one of them but the other one ran to his car and said he had a gun.” Your eyes went wide. “He didn’t have a gun, but he did have a car. And he literally came full speed at me and his partner.”

You tried to stay calm, but his recount of the night made you want to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him in your house forever. “That sounds so scary, love.” You whispered, your free hand reaching out and stroking his right cheek. He leaned his head into your touch, a small smile on his face. “Did anyone see anything? Or does anyone know who they were?”

He shook his head lightly, “the guy in the car got away, but the other dude got hit too. Pretty sure he’s in this hospital. The cops came in and asked about it earlier, but I’d never seen those guys before.”

You nodded, leaning in, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m very glad you’re okay.” You moved the ice pack from his face, observing the purple mark on his face. You may not know how to take care of broken bones, but you’d been with Rook through more than a few bruises and busted lips. You peppered kisses over the skin lightly, making him smile, which was the best thing you could do at the moment.

“The doctors are supposed to come back in soon. They did some X-Rays earlier to figure out exactly what’s broken, but my hand is definitely fucked up, and my legs.” He raised his right arm, showing you the cuts that ran along it. You frowned. “They said I’ll probably need surgery, which sucks.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Your voice was soft. You reached your hand to move his braids out of his face, something you’d gotten in the habit of doing quite often.

He shrugged, “I’m fine with it, you’re the one who has to take care of me afterwards.” You smiled and shook your head teasingly.

“I do that anyways, loser.” You chuckled, before a thought popped into your head. “Should I call your dad? I told Colson but I didn’t think to call your dad.”

He shook his head lightly, “Once they told me they’d called you I texted him. He said he’d be here in an hour or so.” You nodded, moving to sit in the chair beside the hospital bed so you could be at eye level with your boyfriend instead of leaning down uncomfortably. “What did Kells say?”

You chuckled, “he said you’d probably just gotten in a fight or did something stupid.” Rook pouted dramatically. “I told him we’d let him know what was going on later and he could come to the hospital if you were up for it.”

He smiled at you as you leaned your head onto the bed, near his abdomen, and looked up at him. He reached to rest his hand on top of yours, even though you could tell it hurt him to do so. You sat in silence for a few moments until you heard a small knock on the door. “Come in.” Rook called, and you sat up, putting on your mask and turning to see who was coming in.

A woman in her early 40s walked in, followed by two younger men. “Hello again, Mr. Cappelletty. I’ve got the results from your scans.” She spoke as the other two placed X-Ray films onto a small lightboard in the room. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She said as she noticed you.

“Oh, it’s okay Dr. Tambi, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He smiled, looking towards you. You smiled kindly at the doctor. “She can stay, right?” He asked, his hand curling around yours lightly, you could feel the motion straining him and you flipped your hand around, holding his in yours lightly. You hoped it would hurt him less.

Dr. Tambi gave a nod and flashed you a smile, “of course.” She turned back to the films, pointing at the first one. “This is your left hand. If you look at this part right here, you can see where your second metacarpal fractured at the bottom near the carpal.” She raised her right hand, pointing to the bottom of her pointer finger near the knuckle. “So, we’re going to need to do a minor surgery to fix that up a little bit.” Rook nodded and you ran your hand up and down his arm gently. “Your right hand got off a bit easier,” she pointed to the next X-Ray. “No surgery, we’re gonna put it in a cast for a little while just in case but it might be off before you even leave the hospital.” You could feel him relax under your touch at that.

“But then your legs,” she pointed to the next images, “are a bit more complicated. I would imagine they took a brunt of the hit, correct?” She asked. He nodded again and you bit your lip, trying not to cringe at the image of your boyfriend being hit by a car. “The lower portion of your right tibia shattered into 3 pieces.” She pointed to the bone fragments in the X-ray, and this time a shiver physically went through your body. “So, we’ll need to do surgery to fix that up, too. And your left ankle has a hairline fracture that won’t need surgery, but you will have to stay off of it for a while.”

You looked at Rook, taking in the clench of his jaw. He was trying to look tough, but you could see through him, you always could. You knew he wouldn’t ask, so you did. “How long will they take to heal?”

He turned towards you, a soft smile on his face. You two worked so well because you balanced him out. Whenever he would almost get into a fight at a bar, you would be the rational one to pull him away. When you got too stressed out or uptight, he knew just how to get you to relax. When he was too nervous to think straight, you were there to ask all the right questions. You took care of each other, and you could read him like an open book.

“The left hand won’t need to stay in a cast for very long if the surgery goes well, but the left leg might be in a boot for 6 to 8 weeks, and the right leg will probably be a little bit longer, closer to 8 to 12 weeks.” Rook took in a deep breath, and the hand on his arm squeezed lightly, subtly telling him that you were there for him, and he would be okay. “Once we get the surgeries out of the way we can talk more about the treatment plan going forward, so try not to worry about it too much.” She smiled.

One of the men stepped forward, “I’m Dr. Stenson, I’ll be the anesthesiologist working with you.” Rook nodded towards the man, who continued to go over what Rook could and couldn’t do before the surgery. “How often do you drink or smoke?” He asked, and you let out a small chuckle.

Rook shoved you lightly, a small smile on his face. “Often.” He said, and you tried not to laugh.

“And what do you smoke?” He asked.

You mumbled under your breath, “what doesn’t he smoke is the better question.” Rook heard you, sending you a glare and you giggled quietly.

“Weed and cigarettes.” He said, trying to hide laughter as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. The man nodded and soon after the doctors left, leaving you and Rook alone again. “You’re so mean to me sometimes.” He pouted.

You laughed, “If it wasn’t so easy to make fun of you, I wouldn’t be so mean.”

“I got hit by a car, you have to be nice to me.” He whined and you rolled your eyes jokingly. “That’s a law.” He stated.

“Oh, is it?” You smiled, leaning forward, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I guess I can be a little nice to you. For now.”

Rook’s expression turned serious, his eyes gazing into yours. “I’m kind of freaking out right now.” He whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not gonna be able to play for at least 8 weeks. What if I forget how to? Or what if they get into surgery and find out that it’s worse than they thought and I can never play again?”

You sighed, knowing these thoughts had been festering in him since the accident. You brought your hand up to his face, your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek. “Babe listen to me. You are the best drummer I know; you’ve been drumming for what, your entire life? You’re not gonna forget how to drum from 8 weeks off. And even if they get in there and find out its worse than they thought, which they won’t, we’ll figure it out. Everything is gonna be okay. They’ve seen worse fractures than these, trust me, they know what they’re doing.”

He nodded, letting out air through his nose. “But what if I could never drum again? I dropped out of high school. I’ve literally never done anything else except drum. I wouldn’t have money, I wouldn’t have friends because they would be touring all the time, I would lose everything.”

“You’d have me.” You whispered, “You would have me, and your dad, and all the people who really matter, even if they go on tour.”

“You would stay with me even if I was broke?” He sounded so small, so scared, and yet so amazed that you would even hint at the idea.

You frowned, confusion on your face. “I would stay with you if we were living on the streets and eating out of trash cans. But we wouldn’t be, because I also have a job and you’re going to be able to drum in no time.”

You simultaneously loved and hated this side of Rook. He never showed anyone how insecure he could be, and he was so insecure sometimes. You hated seeing him so sad. But you loved it, because you were one of the only people who did see it, because he trusted you enough to let you.

You guys had been friends for years and started dating 3 years ago after he kissed you, completely sober, in the studio while he thought the other guys were taking a break (they were really spying on you two the whole time). In those three years you’d come to know just about everything about each other. You trusted him with every piece of you, and he trusted you. You’d moved in together 2 years ago, and now everyone seemed to be waiting for a ring.

You didn’t mind waiting, you didn’t need to get married to know that Rook loved you or to know that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. It was clear in the way you looked at each other that there would never be anyone else for either of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I love you too.” You pressed another slow kiss to his soft lips. He closed his eyes as you did so, relaxing into it. You realized how tired he must be. “Why don’t you take a nap, J?” You whispered, and he mumbled a sound of protest, but you could already see him struggling against his sleepiness. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You ran your free hand over his forehead, his braids having fallen into his face again, before adjusting his bed so he was laying down more.

It only took you 15 minutes before you fell asleep, your head resting against his stomach and hand still in his.

A little while later, Johnny rushed in the room, worry on his face until he saw the two of you. He smiled, taking a quick picture that he would definitely be showing on your wedding day. You got a good one, son. He thought to himself, feeling a sense of his pride that JP had finally found someone as good as you who would put up with his shit.

He took the seat on the wall opposite of the hospital bed. You came to consciousness 20 minutes later, finding the older man and smiling. “Hi Mr. Cappelletty.” You whispered, not wanting to wake Rook up.

“Hey, darlin’. How’s he doing?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, a soft smile on your face as you took in his peaceful features. “He’s doing good, a little freaked out, I think, but he’s good.” The man nodded, and you continued. “They’re doing surgery on his hand tomorrow and then on his leg a few days from now.”

“Damn. Did he tell you what happened? All I got was a very vague text.”

You nodded, the smile falling. “I guess these guys jumped him while he was out and one of them got in a car and hit him.” Your breathing got heavy thinking about it and you could see Johnny’s eyes widen.

He took in a deep breath, processing what you told him. “Jesus, I just thought he’d got his ass kicked at some bar.”

“So did Colson.” You let out a short laugh, your heart not in it. Your hand moved up to run over his arm again. “He’s scared he’s not gonna be able to drum again.” You whispered, tears coming to your eyes as you took in Rook’s sleeping state. For the first time since you’d gotten the call you allowed your emotions to hit you fully, thoughts of how much worse it could’ve been and how scared he must’ve felt floating through your mind.

Johnny could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he walked over to where you were sitting, pulling you into his stomach. “He’ll be okay.” He whispered, “I raised a strong kid.”

You nodded, trying to hide your sniffles. “I know, I just- I can’t stop thinking about how much worse it could’ve been. If he-.” You bit your lip, not wanting to voice the thought out loud. “I can’t lose him.” Your voice was weak, and you weren’t even sure that the words came out.

Johnny pulled you closer, “I know, sweetheart. But you have to remember that he’s okay, it wasn’t worse.” You nodded. “You’re allowed to want him to stay inside for the next few months out of fear, that’s natural. You just gotta remember how lucky we are.”

You wiped your eyes gently, smiling up at the father of your soulmate. “Thank you.” You whispered.

He nodded, “He needs to remember how lucky he is to have you. There’re not many people who would stick around with him for 3 years. Not people like you.”

You smiled softly, looking at Rook with fondness in your eyes, “I’m lucky to have him, too.”

Johnny patted your shoulder, going back to where he was sitting. You grabbed a spare pillow from the table next to you and propped it on the bed , slightly on Rook’s lap. You laid your head on it, making sure Rook’s hand was in a comfortable position in your own, and drifted off to sleep.

#Rook #rook cappelletty #Rook Cappelletty imagine #Rook Cappelletty x reader #rook angst #rook fluff

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

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Fic: Family Matters

Summary: Belle and Gold spring into action after Neal calls them in an emergency, and Belle reflects on the meaning of family.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling January non-smut prompt: Dealing with a family crisis.

Rated: T

CW: Medical themes, pregnancy loss.

Family Matters

It was a perfectly normal Friday night when they got the call. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Belle was curled up on the chaise longue with a book, and Gold was sitting in his armchair browsing the catalogue for the auction he was going to in Boston the next week.

His phone ringing wasn’t normally a cause for alarm, but it was rare enough for someone to call him at eleven o’clock at night that it sent a current of worry through his veins, and the current of worry increased when he looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Neal.

Belle looked up, her brow furrowing in concern. “Who is it?”

“It’s Neal.”

“Strange for him to be calling so late.”

“Very.” He answered, and almost immediately, the current of worry turned into a full torrent.

“Dad, Emma’s in the hospital and I don’t know what to do.”

Neal's voice was choked, on the verge of tears, and Gold took a deep breath, trying to calm the torrent. Neal was an adult now and a father himself, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t also still need his own father to rescue him every now and then.

“Ok, what happened?” He beckoned Belle over so that she could hear as well.

“She’s had really bad stomach pains all day, she thought it was just something she ate. It just kept getting worse and worse until she passed out… I saw her drop, I barely caught her in time… I called 911 and they took her into the hospital, they think she’s got some internal bleeding somewhere…”

“OK. We’re coming. How’s Henry doing?”

“He’s ok, just a bit shaken, he doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”

“Just hold on for a little while. Belle and I are coming.”

“Thanks Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

Belle was already in the hallway pulling on her coat and boots, and Gold took a few moments to check that the house was secure and grab the insurance paperwork from his office - Emma should have been covered by the Sheriff’s office but it paid to be prepared. The drive across town to Neal and Emma’s apartment did not take long, but every moment of it was spent in tense silence. Neal was standing on the doorstep waiting for them, an anxious-looking Henry balanced on his hip, aware that something bad was happening but that it was too much for his one-year-old brain to try and comprehend.

“Hey Henry,” Belle cooed, taking him out of Neal’s arms and giving her stepson a little peck on the cheek, whispering it’ll be ok, I promise in his ear. “Why don’t you come with Nana Belle and we’ll let Daddy and Grandpa get everything sorted out, eh? You should be in bed, it’s very late. I guess all the commotion woke you up.”

Belle took Henry back into the apartment and Neal, no longer having to worry about staying calm and focussed on his son, crumpled against Gold’s shoulder. Neal had never been the most physically affectionate of people, not really a hugger, and the fact he was crying on his father’s shoulder stood as testament to just how scared he was for Emma.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” Gold said. “I think you need to be there. I can always come back and get anything that Emma might need.”

“I’ll be ok, I just needed someone to come watch Henry, I can go…”

“Neal, I don’t want you ending up in the hospital as well.” He held up Neal’s hand, which was still shaking. “I’ll drive. Belle’s got Henry. We’re all here.”

Neal nodded, going back inside to grab his things before following Gold out to the Cadillac.

“Thanks for dropping everything,” he murmured as they set off towards the hospital.

“It’s what families do. You’d have done the same if it was Belle.”

Neal nodded. “Yeah, I would.”

The rest of the drive to the hospital was made in silence. As worried as he was about Emma, Neal gave Gold something to focus on, knowing that he had to be strong so that Neal could be afraid. He thought back over all the family crises that they had lived through so far; mercifully, there were few of them. This was certainly the first time any of them had been in the hospital since Henry was born, and whilst Neal had done his fair share of panicking at the time, that had ultimately been a joyous occasion rather than a crisis.

Gold could only hope that the outcome here would be a good one in the long run.

Belle settled herself in the armchair in the corner of Henry’s room, cradling the tired toddler on her lap. She opened the picture book that she had selected to try and get him back to sleep, but she didn’t start reading it for a few minutes, wondering what could have happened and hoping against hope that Emma would be ok. She was certainly in the best hands, but that didn’t stop Belle from worrying.

Still, there was nothing she could do to help Neal and Gold and Emma, and the most useful thing she could do was to stay here with Henry. The poor boy could obviously tell that something dreadful was going on, and if she could reassure him and get him off to sleep so that his parents didn’t have to worry about him as well as everything else that was happening, then that was what she would do.

She knew that children were far more intuitive than everyone gave them credit for, so Henry would probably be picking up on her unease even if he couldn’t actually give voice to that, so she took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice nice and even and sing-song.

“Ok Henry. Let’s see what Spot the Dog is up to tonight.”

By the time they finished with Spot, Henry was asleep again, curled up against Belle’s chest, and she sighed, deciding to sit with him for a while instead of putting him back to bed. His warm weight was a comfort to her, keeping her grounded and reminding her that there was a little human relying on her to keep him safe whilst his parents were dealing with other horrors. As long as she was holding Henry, Belle knew that she wouldn’t go to pieces.

She didn’t know how long she sat there in the dim light, listening to Henry’s soft breathing as she wondered what was happening in the hospital, looking at her phone every couple of seconds. It was on silent to avoid disturbing Henry, and she was nervous of somehow missing a call from Gold or Neal. The hours kept ticking by until she finally heard a key in the lock and someone tiptoe into the apartment.

“Belle?”

It was Gold’s whispered voice, and a moment later, he stepped into Henry’s room. He looked dead on his feet, but he smiled when he saw her sitting with Henry, and Belle took that to be a good sign.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “How’s Emma? Do they know what’s wrong?”

Gold nodded, coming over and leaning against the chair.

“It was an ectopic pregnancy.” He sighed. “Emma didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

“Is she going to be ok?”

“Yeah. She’s stable and on painkillers and they’ll operate in the morning. The doctors are quite confident.”

“How’s Neal holding up?”

“Well, he’s just about holding it together. He calmed down a lot after we could get in to see her. We both did. I forgot how much I hate hospital waiting rooms. He’s still there; I just came back to get a few things for Emma, I’ll bring him back later.” He was unable to stifle a yawn. “Sorry. The adrenaline’s wearing off now and I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling. Still, at least it looks like the worst is over.”

They stayed there in silence for a while until Henry shifted in Belle’s arms and she decided that it would probably be a good idea to put him back in his bed so that he could get some better sleep. Hearing the news had lifted a great weight of uncertainty off her mind. Of course, they weren’t out of the woods just yet, there was still the operation in the morning, and it would take time for Emma to recover, but for now the crisis was, if not over completely, then at least manageable now.

She followed Gold out of Henry’s room, helping him pack bits and bobs for Emma’s stay in the hospital. It was one of the marks of what made a family a family, she thought, the way that they all acted in a situation like this. Belle would be the first to admit that theirs was not exactly the most conventional of families, since she was less than ten years older than her stepson and already happy to be an honorary grandmother, but she and Gold had swept in to help without a second thought. It was just what families did for each other.

In the hallway, as Gold was getting ready to make the trip back to the hospital, Belle slipped her arms around his middle, going up on her toes to kiss him.

“Thank you for making me part of this family,” she said.

Gold gave a soft laugh. “Even when you end up staying up half the night watching your step-grandson in the middle of a medical emergency?”

“Even then. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Me neither.” Gold kissed her again, and Belle closed the door after him with a little wave.

As long as they had each other, they’d weather any storm that life threw at them.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Floof Family #background swanfire #toddler!Henry #Fic: Family Matters

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banshee-cheekbones · 3 years

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i loved your recent fic about snyder cut!barry allen, would you ever write a shipfic with that barry allen/iris west? their meetcute in the snyder cut was soooo cute

hey nonny! I loved this prompt and took a crack at it! I ended up going with nonbinary Barry again, using they/them pronouns. please enjoy!

also used for the fluff square on my @transbingo card.

~1800 words, on ao3 here.

second chance at a first impression.

At first, when Barry steps into the coffee shop at the edge of campus, they don’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

It’s just a normal coffee shop, part of a chain with two dozen locations spread across the city. Most of the tables are occupied by students, surrounded by textbooks and papers and laptops. While most of the customers are wearing headphones, there’s still a steady murmur of conversation filling the air, weaving perfectly with the lo-fi music playing over the speakers. The place smells absolutely decadent, like fresh roasted beans and sugar and chocolate, and even though they ate a full pizza for breakfast (after going for a quick run to Gotham and back in the hopes of burning off some of the nervous energy fluttering through their body), Barry's stomach still rumbles loudly.

It’s unlikely that eating anything other than the full contents of the glass display case lining the counter is going to have any impact on their hunger, but at the very least, maybe it’ll keep them satiated long enough to keep their stomach from interrupting their first class of the semester.

They get into line, absently glancing down at the time on their phone, only barely aware that there are a handful of people queued up in front of them. They still have half an hour before they have to get to class – plenty of time to get some coffee and enjoy a muffin (or three). Realistically, it could be a minute before class and they’d still have time to eat and end up in a front row seat, but they want to avoid using their powers on campus if possible. It’s probably not completely possible to keep their two identities separate, to keep The Flash from bleeding into Barry Allen, college student, but if they don’t try, then they’ll regret it.

They make a note to ask Clark about it, the next time they have a League meeting. They’re closest with Arthur, but seeing as he doesn’t give two shits about his secret identity being known, Barry doesn’t think he’s the best person to consult in this case.

Once they’ve decided on which three muffins to get, they turn their attention to the intimidating drink menu hanging above the counter. By the time they parse through the options and settle on something that sounds packed to the gills with sugar, they’re second in line, and they lower their eyes from the menu just in time for the person standing directly in front of them to turn around.

Barry’s stomach drops to the floor, but this time, it has nothing to do with hunger.

Standing in front of them, eyes wide, mouth partially open, dark curls spiraling away from her face, is the woman. The one that they saved a mere month ago (although, with everything that happened after that, with them resurrecting Clark and saving the world from Steppenwolf and discovering that, if they run enough, they can completely destroy the flow of time, it feels more like a year has passed since that day). The one that Barry has thought about almost every day. The one that they thought they would never see again – Central City may be small compared to Gotham or Metropolis, but it’s still a damn city, big enough that Barry has a hard enough time running into people they actually know, let alone people they’ve encountered for a handful of seconds.

They were long seconds, though. Long enough that Barry noticed how beautiful the woman’s dark eyes were, noticed how the smile that spread across her mouth once she was out of harm’s way lit up her round face, noticed how soft her hair was when they moved it away from her eyes.

They may have been mere seconds, and Barry may not have found out her name, but that hasn’t stopped them from thinking about her.

And now, here she is. Standing right in front of them.

Barry is faintly aware of the barista speaking to them, probably asking them to move forward and order, but for the first time in years, even though their brain is screaming at them to do something, to move, they feel physically rooted to the spot.

They don’t know what the chances of meeting like this are, but they’re sure that, if they asked Vic to run the math, his answer would be something like astronomically low.

They need to move. Not only because they’re holding up the line, but because this has to be weird for the woman. They only had a few seconds together, and Barry would be surprised if she remembers them in any real detail, which means that she’s probably wondering why she’s being openly stared at by some weirdo when she just wanted to get some breakfast.

And yet, despite the energy they can feel flickering through their body, Barry can’t move. They can’t get over the sheer unlikeliness of the situation, can’t stop themselves from flicking from one what-if situation to the next.

If they had decided to skip coffee and a snack, if they had decided to wait until the last minute and then bolt across the city straight to class, if they had been delayed for any reason, then this wouldn’t be happening.

Why is the universe so unfathomably strange?

Just when they think that the only way to move forward is to give into the Speed Force, shoot through the plate glass window at the front of the shop and hope that the crash causes enough of a distraction that everyone in the nearby vicinity forgets that they were there in the first place, the woman speaks.

“It’s you.” Her voice is soft, influenced by the smile curling her mouth, nearly as bright as the gold, silk scarf tied around her neck. She steps away from the line, over to the small counter stocked with sweeteners and lids and stir sticks, and Barry automatically follows her. Even though they're definitely moving, it still feels like they’re walking through molasses, like time hasn’t fallen back to its regular pace yet.

“You remember me?” they ask, still not entirely convinced that this isn’t some wild kind of fever dream or vision. Maybe they lost their concentration on the way to campus and got mowed down by a truck, and this is a last gift from their brain to make up for the whole dying thing.

If that’s the case, it might be the nicest gift Barry has ever received.

The woman nods. “I do. You saved my life.”

She’s right – Barry may be full of self-deprecation, but even they know that their abilities are the only thing that saved her from certain death. But still, hearing her say it so frankly, so gratefully, makes them feel off-balance, like the world is tilting right underneath their normally so sure feet.

“I was just in the right place at the right time,” they manage to stammer, seizing one of the pronoun pins decorating the front of their black denim jacket and twisting it back and forth, trying to keep their fingers moving at normal human speed. It’s a poor substitution for running, but for the time being, it’ll have to do. “Sorry I couldn’t save your car. It, um, looked like a nice one. I think. I don’t really know much about cars.” Instinctively, they wince at their own words – it may be a true statement (they've never been a car person, even before they gained their powers), but still, it being the truth doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Thankfully, the woman just shrugs.

“It was a nice car. But that’s what insurance is for. I have a better one now.” She waves out the window at a yellow convertible, long and blocky and definitely older than Barry is, parked outside the shop, before she says, “I looked for you, afterwards.” As someone approaches the counter, she takes a step forward, so that she’s out of their way. It puts her close enough to Barry that they can smell her citrus perfume, see the flecks of gold glitter mixed into her burgundy eye shadow. “I wanted to thank you. But it was like you disappeared into thin air.”

Close enough, Barry thinks.

“Sorry about that. I… I had to run.” It’s a lame excuse, but it’s not an entirely inaccurate one - they had unfinished business with the dog groomer after all.

(Even if their business didn’t end with a job offer, they got to feed the dogs some sausage from the vendor whose cart got destroyed, which was, frankly, almost as good as landing a job.)

“Well, it’s not too late.” The woman’s full lips turn up into another smile. “Could I buy you a drink? If you have time, I mean. I don’t want to keep you if there’s somewhere you need to be.”

Barry’s heart stutters as they glance at the clock behind the barista counter and confirm that there’s still plenty of time until they’re supposed to get to class. Not that it matters, really - even if they’re late, it’s only the first class. They probably aren’t going to miss anything more exciting than the instructor reading through the syllabus, which is something they can do later (not to mention faster.

They don’t intend on slacking off on their degree – they want to make their dad proud – but they’re pretty sure that the universe has given them a pass for today.

“Okay,” they say, feeling their own lips curl up into a smile that mirrors her. “Yeah, I’d, um, I’d really like that.”

“Me too,” she replies. Waving at the lineup, she says, “After you.”

The line has grown while they were talking, reaches almost all the way to the entrance now, but Barry is more than happy to wait – not only because they’ve completely forgotten what drink they planned on ordering and need to look at the menu again, but also because it means they get to spend a few more minutes with the woman.

Whose name they still don’t know.

“Hey,” they say, looking away from the menu, all thoughts of coffee forgotten for the time being. She’s a few inches shorter than they are, and when she tilts her head up to look at them, they lose their train of thought for a few seconds. Thankfully, they’re able to snatch the train before it completely leaves the station and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Iris.” She shifts her coffee and the bag containing a muffin into one hand and holds out the other. “And you?”

“Barry.” They take her hand and quickly shake it, trying not to notice how soft her skin is, how glossy her deep orange nail polish is.

“It’s nice to properly meet you.” Fingers trailing across their palm as she lets go, she says, with a teasing glint in her eyes, “Don’t run off on me again. Not before I can buy you a coffee at least.”

“Don’t worry,” they reply. Their stomach is fluttering again, but this time, it’s less from hunger and more from the butterflies swarming through it, butterflies that aren’t going to go away anytime soon. “I won’t.”

#transbingo #barry x iris #dc fanfiction #justice league fanfiction #mine #mine: fic #thank you so much for this prompt!

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imagining-supernatural · 4 years

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The Thanksgiving Party

Part 22 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: It’s Thanksgiving day and you spend it with Sebastian and his friends

Word Count: 1,927

The door closed with a soft click and you made your way through the unfamiliar room to ungracefully collapse on the bed. Three hours into the Thanksgiving celebration and you were ready for a nap.

Surprisingly enough, you hadn’t wanted to leave the group. If it hadn’t been for your body warning you to take a break, you would have still been socializing with Seb and all of his friends. Large groups were never your thing. The nine other people in the apartment would normally be enough to spin your mental wheel of excuses to leave early.

I’m sorry. I have to go. My (spin wheel) chipmunk just (spin another wheel) gave birth and I obviously have to go help.

But your mental wheel was becoming dusty with disuse.

It was strange.

You settled on the bed with some pillows to prop you up into a lounging position and pulled out your phone to call Jasmin. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey Y/N! Great timing. You just saved me from having to change Zander’s diaper.”

The cry of her nephew came through her phone and you smiled. “You’re welcome. How’s he doing? And the rest of your family?”

“They’re great. Well, not my dad. I think he’s finally going to have to change a diaper. First diaper he’s changed since… well probably since I was out of diapers.”

“It’s his grandson. He should change a diaper.”

Jasmin laughed and the sound was immediately followed by the slam of a door. “Sheesh, that was a doozy. I don’t think I’ve seen that much poop since… I don’t think I’ve seen that much poop ever.”

“That’s what he gets for bragging that he’s never changed his grandchildren’s diapers.”

“Yeah. Anyway, enough about my family’s shit. How’s your day going?”

While you spoke, you pulled a blanket over yourself and burrowed further into the pillows. “Not too bad. Seb’s friends are great and I’ve actually been having fun.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Brittney and Josselin actually set up a lunch date with me next week. So I might have some friends here besides Seb, Sean, and the nurses.”

“Not that Sebastian’s just your friend.”

Jasmin just couldn’t stop fishing. She kept wanting you to admit that you were in love with him or something. Which, honestly, might not be too far off base. You doubted you’d ever meet anyone more amazing than Sebastian. But with the intense situation you were in, how could you believe the feelings that came out of it?

Sebastian was, quite literally, your knight in shining armor. Or knight with a shining arm for most of the week.

So, no. You weren’t going to admit anything to Jasmin. You didn’t want the weight of that on your shoulders. You were simply enjoying whatever the hell you had going on with him at the moment.

“Mmm, no, he isn’t,” you mused, hoping she would get her hopes up. “He’s also my husband for insurance purposes.”

“And tax purposes,” she pointed out.

Holy shit. “I’m going to have to file my taxes as married, aren’t I? Fuck. That’s… fuckin’ weird.” There was a moment longer where you pondered on that before shaking your head. “Anyway. I just figured I’d give you a call while I had a moment alone. I should probably take a nap for an hour or so.”

“New treatment that bad?”

“Let’s just say I have a feeling that I won’t have the energy to even be bitchy for the next few weeks. But mid-January I’ll have the surgery and it’ll have been worth it.”

The two of you shot the shit for a while longer before hanging up. Within five minutes of closing your eyes, you were asleep.

“Hey, Y/N. Time to wake up.”

You shifted away from the hand on your shoulder with a groan. “No.”

The bed shifted and you felt someone lay down on top of the blanket behind you. Sebastian’s familiar arm curled around you as he fitted his body against yours. His lips were at your ear when he whispered, “Josselin and Mike are pulling out the pies.”

“I think I’d rather stay right here with you,” you murmured as you freed your arm from the confines of the blanket to grab his hand. Cuddling up with you was really the worst possible way he could have chosen to try and get you out of bed.

“But… pie. And ice cream.”

“I’m comfy.”

Despite your stubborn words, you forced yourself to start waking up more. Sebastian trailed his finger up and down your arm before heading toward your face, making you scrunch up your face and pull away from his finger. You felt his laughter at your back and couldn’t help your own smile.

By that time, you were awake enough to pull away and lay on your back, looking up at him.

“Hi,” he grinned down at you.

“Hi yourself.”

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

“’m good. Still tired, but that’s not new.”

“Good. You really wanna stay in here?”

“Nah. Ice cream sounds good. And I like your friends, so…”

God, you could just stare into his blue eyes for ages. You never understood the phrase drowning in their eyes until Sebastian. And his soft, pink lips pulling up into a smile? That rough stubble on his cheeks… How in the world was he so fucking perfect?

His smile grew for a fraction of a second before he leaned down and kissed you. It lasted just a second before he pulled back and sat up. “They like you too. C’mon, let’s go.”

This time, you let him pull you up and guide you back to the kitchen. Several people had bowls with ice cream and pie already, so Sebastian headed right over to the counter to start filling his own. When he offered you a bowl, you held your hand out to refuse.

“I’m still full. I’ll probably just steal a few bites of whatever you’re having and call it good.”

“Why do you think I’ll share?”

“Why do you think I said steal?” You shot right back, tilting your head. “I’m not asking for your permission; I’m just giving you fair warning.”

Mike came up and threw his arm over your shoulder, motioning to you with his other hand. “C’mon, Sebastian. How can you say no to that face?”

Playing along, you gave Seb your best puppy dog eyes and pouty lip.

“Ganging up on me, I see how it is,” he muttered, unable to curb his own smile.

“Hey, you and Jaz gang up on me all the time. Turnabout’s fair play, babe.”

Once everyone had their desserts in hand, you all moved to the living room. You tried to claim a corner of the couch to hopefully fade away and just enjoy observing the witty banter and friendly insults that were being flung around the room, but Sebastian sat right next to you and pulled your legs over his lap. With one of his arms curled around you and the other balancing the bowl of ice cream and pie in your lap, you were right in the middle of every conversation Sebastian got pulled into.

After an hour or so, you felt yourself drifting off. A few people had left and the energy in the apartment simmered down to a more intimate setting. That, combined with Seb’s warm body against yours, lulled you into that space between consciousness and unconsciousness. You were floating just outside of dreamland.

“I like her,” you heard someone say quietly.

Sebastian shifted enough to get your head more comfortably on his shoulder and he hummed in agreement.

“She seems good for you,” the other person said again. Josselin, maybe?

“I like to think so,” Seb murmured.

“She gonna come to Thanksgiving next year, too?”

“You’re nosey, you know that Joss?”

“And you’re avoiding answering the question.” There was silence, then a heavy sigh from Josselin. “I’ve known you a long time, Sebastian. And I’ve never seen you with anyone that you literally cannot keep your hands off of. And not even in the I can’t wait to get you in bed kind of way.”

His hand absently rubbed up and down your thigh. “Yeah, well…”

“Well…? Well what?”

He took a deep breath. “The original plan was to get a divorce once she’s recovered.”

“Plans change. Your plan was to have a fun time in Vegas and get back to your life like normal. Now look at you. This isn’t what your life was like before. At all.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He pressed his lips to your brow and murmured, too quiet for Josselin to hear, “It’s better.”

“Hey, Y/N, look at this.” Sebastian plopped down on the armrest of your chair, careful of the wires and tubes attached to you. “So, you know how Joss was taking pictures like crazy yesterday?”

You nodded. The only time Josselin didn’t have her camera aimed at one of her guests was when she was eating, or when Mike stole the camera to take pictures of her. Never in your life had you met anyone who took so many pictures.

“She sent me some. Look at this one.” He handed his phone to you, keeping his eyes on your face for a reaction. No pressure for you, or anything, right?

A snort of laughter escaped you and you grinned. The screen was lit with a picture of a laughing Sebastian trying to feed you ice cream, while you leaned back as far as you could without falling off his lap. Ice cream was smudged on your cheek and your own lips were caught in laughter. You hadn’t known she’d gotten that moment on camera.

“That’s a good picture,” you said softly, zooming in on your faces. Both of you looked so carefree and happy… you doubted you’d see that side of yourself until well after the surgery.

Assuming you made it to surgery.

“I was wondering…” Sebastian said hesitantly. Immediately, you looked up at him, waiting for his question. Rarely was he unsure of anything. “How would you feel about me making an Instagram post with that picture?”

What could it hurt, right? The hype around you and Seb had died down since neither of you commented on the hype. So his post would bring you back to the spotlight for a day or two… you weren’t going to look online anyway.

“That’s fine. It might be nice to have a non-paparazzi photo of me online,” you joked.

“You sure?” he asked, but he was already half-smiling, ready to start making his post.

“Yeah. If there’s one thing I remember from Jasmin’s, uh, fanatical Supernatural phase, it’s that fans like to know that their favorite celebrities are doing well when something big happens. You’ve been quiet about… us. Being married. The cancer. I think a post showing you laughing would go a long way with your fans.”

He dropped a kiss on your brow before moving back to his chair across from you. He was tapping away on his phone for quite a while before he finally sat back. Your phone vibrated, alerting you that he’d tagged your neglected Instagram account.

Pulling out your phone, you saw the picture and immediately saved it to your phone. Beneath the picture was the caption:

According to Charles Dickens, “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor” and I’m so thankful to have Y/N in my life to infect me with her laughter and humor. #Thanksgiving2019

Four fluffy parts in a row?? What has come over me?? But doesn’t that picture just seem so adorable??

CHAPTER 23: THE FIFTH CHECK-IN

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Bartoned - Chapter 25

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Square: none

Rating: E

Warnings: Babies getting vaccinations

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1724

Summary: Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up. When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

Chapter 25

“We shouldn’t have done the open house and this,” you said as you bounced and already fussy Nattie on your hip. You could only imagine what was going to happen when they jabbed the sleepy little cherub in the thighs with needles.

This morning had been spent out in Brooklyn looking at houses. There had been an open house that was today only and you’d decided to try and fit in looking at a couple of others before heading back into Manhattan for Natasha’s vaccination. It had not been the smartest thing the two of you had ever done. But to be fair, it hadn’t been the dumbest thing the two of you had done either, so you were trying to put a positive spin on it.

The house hunting felt like a complete waste of time. You’d go and see houses that seemed within a budget that was at least not Tony Stark level high, and they’d be right on the other side of the city and falling apart. As soon as you got within a distance of the city that wouldn’t kill you having to travel into every day and suddenly they were these huge townhouses in the multimillion-dollar range.

Not that they weren’t nice looking at. You would wander through large bedrooms and perfect bathrooms and think about the furniture you’d buy if you were rich to fill it.

It was just a little less fun when your daughter kept crying.

So now after spending most of the day driving around the city, and having to get a more and more irritated infant in and out of a car seat only to finish the day at her pediatrician's office getting her first set of vaccinations since her birth.

“That first open house was today and today only. Might as well have gotten it all out of the way at once. It’s not like I get many days off anymore,” Clint said.

“Well, you’re holding her when they jab her,” you said.

“Aww, man,” Clint asked. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“Yeah, she will,” you said. “And I’ll be her favorite forever and ever and ever.”

“Sounds about right,” Clint huffed. “You know I can afford it right?”

“What, being the mean parent? I doubt it, Clint,” you teased. “You wouldn’t last five minutes as the mean one.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not that. The house. The nice one.”

“Bull… shit,” you said. “Clint! You were living like a hobo when I met you. I’m still not sure if you own a second pair of jeans.”

“I know,” Clint said, taking Natasha off you and putting her on his shoulder and started rocking and patting her back. She whined and threw her head around as he tried to settle her where you couldn’t. “And yet, I’ve been working as a spy and the last line of defense for the planet since I was a teenager. You know how much hazard pay that is? Plus, up until this little nugget, I had no expenses outside of pizza and Starbucks. The apartment is free. It’s just gone in my bank account and sat there.”

You blinked at him slowly, unable to comprehend what he was saying to you. It definitely made sense that he’d have been paid well considering the kind of work he did. But you couldn’t quite make that align with the Clint Barton you knew. Nor how it could be enough to buy a four million dollar house when he hadn’t even invested any of it. “What?”

“I mean, it’d be most of it. Or all… but that’d be worth it for her to have a nice home wouldn’t it?” Clint said.

“What?” You repeated.

“I just…” Clint started.

“Natasha Barton?”

The call from one of the nurses interrupted Clint’s attempt at trying to clarify with you. The two of you approached her and she smiled warmly. “Through here Mr. and Mrs. Barton.”

You rolled your eyes. Assuming that you had the same last name since having Natasha was something you had been facing a lot. To begin with, you had corrected them, but it had gotten to the ‘what’s the point’ phase. It wasn’t like you ever saw the people who just assumed ever again.

She led you both through to the examination room and began looking Natasha over. She measured her length and head circumference and weighed her as she asked about the milestones she was supposed to have met by now. She would fill all the answers into a chart on her computer. Natasha got more and more distraught throughout the examination, that by the time she was put back into Clint’s arms she was squalling and big fat tears were running down her cheeks. Your breasts ached at the sound as your milk came in.

“Okay. Now for the bad part. Are you going to be holding her?” She asked.

“Yeah. I guess so,” Clint said as he tried to calm her down.

She started to settle and Clint sat down with her. “Okay, dad,” the nurse said as she prepared the needle. “Cradle her close against you and hold her thigh firmly.”

Clint did as he was told and you looked at him with your eyes narrowed. “Don’t mess it up,” you said. “That’s our daughter.”

“I’ve got her. I’ve got her,” Clint assured you.

The nurse jabbed her with the needle in the chubbiest part of Natasha’s very chubby little thigh and Natasha fell very quiet and looked up at Clint in shock as the nurse stuck a little round band-aid on the puncture wound.

“Oh no. That’s the look Caesar gave Brutus,” Clint said, lifting Natasha onto his shoulder and patting her back.

“One more. If you can switch sides,” the nurse said, getting the next needle ready.

The nurse jabbed the needle into her thigh. The look of betrayal was twice what it was before and she started screaming. “No… I’m sorry, baby girl. It’s so you don’t get sick. I’m trying to be a good dad,” Clint soothed, looking like he was about to cry too.

When the band-aid was in place Clint stood and held Natasha against his chest rubbing her back while he made shushing sounds.

“If you want to go out to the waiting room you can feed her,” the nurse instructed. “Wait here for about fifteen minutes. If she seems fine, you can take her home.”

You headed out to the waiting room with Clint and took a seat. She was still making that large, hysterical hiccuping sound that kids make when they can’t quite get control of themselves as he placed her in your arms. When you offered her your breast she made angry baby bird sounds as she started to suckle.

“That is definitely my daughter,” Clint said, laughing a little as he watched you. He flopped on the hard plastic chair beside you and huffed. “She’s never going to trust me now.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine. This is going to be a daddy’s girl. I can already see it,” you said.

“What do you mean?” Clint asked.

“You notice that when she’s hysterical you’re always the one that takes her. She settles for you when she won’t for anyone else. Including me - the milk machine,” you said.

“Huh,” Clint said, putting his feet on the coffee table. You swatted his thigh and he put them back on the ground again. “I guess she does.”

“So, chill. She loves you. She’ll forget about this betrayal soon enough,” you said. “Now… what were we talking about before? Oh yeah. You said you have four million dollars in your bank account.”

“Give or take,” Clint confirmed.

“How… how is that possible? I mean… you don’t own anything,” you said. “Why don’t you spend your money?”

Clint shrugged. “I don’t know. I went from the circus, to spy shit, to the avengers. Never had time or anything I wanted to spend it on. Except you and Nattie.”

“What about… oh, I don’t know - your ex-wife?” You asked.

“She was a spy too. We kinda ended up just even when we broke up,” Clint said. “She might come out better in that she kept the stuff as well as half the money, but what are you gonna do? She deserved it.”

“Okay… well, we’re getting a prenup,” you said.

Clint waved you off. “No. We don’t need one. That’s stupid.”

“Clinton Francis Barton!” You scolded. “Prenups are like insurance. They aren’t about anyone being mean to anyone else. You can put in things to protect everyone. But you need one. We’re going to talk to Tony.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint said saluting.

“Secondly, I don’t want to spend all your money on a house. We have lots of things to think about now. School and college and … what if something happens to one of us? There’d be a lot of expenses. We should … you should…”

“We,” Clint said, correcting you.

“We should invest it. And… start a trust for Nattie,” you said. “The perfect house will come. I just don’t think we’ve seen it yet.”

Clint leaned over and nuzzled into your neck. “You’re so smart,” he said. “And you’re probably right. I haven’t loved any of them. But we’ve been looking for so long and I just really don’t want to raise her around the Avengers shit.”

“I know. I promise. We’ve figured out everything else. When we find the house, we’ll know,” you said and kissed his cheek.

Clint hummed and tickled Natasha’s chin. “Here’s another way you can tell she’s mine. She just fell asleep with a tit in her mouth.”

You stifled a laugh and elbowed him. “Don’t talk about your daughter that way.”

He took her back off you and tucked her away in the sling while you straightened out your clothes. “Shall we go home then?” Clint said.

“Kinda want to say something corny about it not being our home.” You replied, getting up.

Clint laughed. “No. I got one.” He said wrapping his arm around your waist. “Of course it’s home. You’ll be there.”

You pulled a face at him. “Oh gag, Clint. Why did you have to do that?”

Clint broke down into laughter and kissed the top of your head as you headed back out to the car and home.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #bartoned

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kingofdirtandnothing · 3 years

Text

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Twenty Three

“You know, I didn’t expect retirement to be this good.” Jack can feel the sway of the dock beneath him, the slow and steady slosh of the waves where it hits the wood. The sun is just starting to peak over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blushing pink and soft yellows. It’s paradise, plain and simple.

Even the breeze was gentle, soft and sweet and scented with the salt of the ocean without that heavy fish smell that came with being too close to the dock.

And the only reason he’s here is sitting beside him in a matching folding chair, a little streak of aluminum white sunscreen still visible on his nose, just below where his glasses have slid. Jack doesn’t make any effort to look down at the book in Daniel’s lap, he knows he wouldn’t get it, even on the off chance it was written in English.

Knowing Danny, it was probably in Aramaic or something.

For all the overflowing bookshelves in their little condo, if Jack had to guess how many of them were in English, he’d guess twenty five percent or less. There were German fairy tales and Polish fantasy novels, and even some Russian crime novels shoved on the far end of the shelf. Jack picked them up when he saw something interesting in the book store. It was a game, trying to see if there was something Danny couldn’t read.

And on those few times he found something Daniel wasn’t fluent in, the stubborn bastard would sit there with a dual language dictionary and a notebook and puzzle his way through the whole thing. Then he’d flop down on Jack in bed and give him a smug review of whatever it was.

Jack just hoped Daniel never cottoned on to the fact that Jack liked those smug book reviews more than any he’d ever read in the paper. All that skin against his skin while he was listening to Daniel talk didn’t hurt either.

“I thought...frozen dinners and too many days in a row in front of the TV watching the game.” Any game. Hell, Jack had stooped so low a time or two that he sat there and watched things like shuffleboard and darts. Because that’s what his retirement had been the first time around, after Charlie died. The silence of an empty house, his marriage bed cold and his son’s old bedroom a mausoleum. The only sound that ever broke the silence was the sound of the tv. Jack hadn’t turned it off for two years.

He’d gone through the motions while the divorce finalized, and even got in touch with a lawyer. Jack had a decent pension from his time in the service, and a nice sized life insurance policy. He’d just been waiting to make sure that putting a gun in his mouth wasn’t going to take all those things from Sarah.

After what he took from her, the least he could do was make sure she was taken care of financially when he was gone.

More than a few nights had been spent with the same sidearm that took his kid from him sitting on the arm of his recliner. Just in case he was ready.

Jack never could work up the nerve to be ready.

It’s not a story he’s ever going to tell Daniel. Some things were just meant to be kept to yourself. But he thinks about it now, about how much he would have missed out on if he let his grief pull him over the edge and into the darkness.

Sarah had told him once, long after the divorce and with tears in her eyes, that Charlie wouldn’t have wanted this for him. That he wouldn’t have wanted his dad to be miserable for the rest of his life. That he could grieve their boy but at some point, he would have to move on with his life. (Sarah was a saint of a woman. She never blamed him for something that was his fault. That was alright, Jack would blame himself enough for the both of them, for the rest of his life.)

It was her words in his head that made him even pick up the phone when Hammond called. Jack had ignored a whole lot of calls from a whole lot of people before then. He and Hammond had been in the Air Force together, and even worked a couple of missions on the back end when Hammond was riding the pine pony and before Jack’s forced retirement took him out of the service altogether.

It was Hammond who said he had a security company that he was starting up, and that he could use a fresh pair of eyes to make sure he was covering all his bases. Jack didn’t manage to have that conversation without asking Hammond if Sarah called him. He was too raw, too pissed off at the idea of being forgiven to leave it alone.

Hammond, God bless him and rest his soul, had deadpanned all the way through the phone wire. ‘Son, whether she did or not doesn’t change the fact that I’m asking you to do me a favor here.’

So Jack let words like favor and friendship coax him back out of his deathly silent house in Colorado and halfway across the world. Rich folks always needed someone to look after them, regardless of if they actually needed someone watching their backs at night. It was easy pay, most of the time.

And then Jack got saddled with a sarcastic archaeologist who got a bodyguard courtesy of the university, after one of his failed students tried to put a hit out on him on the internet. (Jack always wondered how you even started looking for someone to kill another person. Did you type ‘hitman for hire’ in a search engine or something?)

The rest was long, complicated history. A whole lot of time and miles and sitting in on lectures until Jack stopped zoning out and started listening. Dr. Daniel Jackson was smart, that was never up for debate. Jack knew that the second he laid eyes on him. But listening to him talk, Jack started to realize how much more than just an egghead that Daniel was.

He was clever, and he was funny. God, Daniel has a whip smart sense of humor and Jack enjoys it just as much now as he did when he first started seeing it unleashed on poor and unsuspecting entitled assholes at colleges where Daniel was going to speak. Dr. Jackson took no shit, but he did it with a smile on his face and left a lot of confused people in his wake.

And how was a guy like Jack supposed to turn a blind eye to that? He’d settled down with Sarah, sure, and he loved the hell out of her. (He loved her so much that he was pretty sure he’d never be able to fall in love with a woman again.) But he’d had more than his fair share of foxhole fornication with the boys before he and Sarah got married.

So spending his days shadowing a smart mouthed professor started being an exercise in repression. Because above all else, Jack was a professional. He wasn’t going to let his slow slide from respect to fondness to Feeling get in the way of doing his job. Hammond deserved better than that.

Daniel did too.

“You don’t have the best long view on the world, Jack. You’ve been known to be a little short sighted.” It’s sharp, and a little wry, and Jack loves the way that Daniel puts his index finger right on the line that he was reading so that he won’t lose his spot while he shoots a playful, loving look at Jack.

“Yeah yeah, rub it in why don’t you.” Jack gestures around him, encompassing the blue skies and the white sand beaches and the handsome fella sitting next to him all with a wave of the hand that would do Vanna White proud. “This is all here because of you.”

Because Jack might have had decades worth of practice when it came to repressing the things in life he couldn’t deal with at the time, Daniel Jackson had never met a puzzle that he couldn’t solve. And Daniel had looked at Jack and seen a Gordian knot that he was itching to get his fingers on, convinced that if he could find the right string and tug, that he could unravel him.

Smug bastard was right, too. Jack came apart like a house of cards in a hurricane the first time that Daniel cornered him in an elevator, a hand pressed flat against his chest and the smell of his cologne in Jack’s nose. ‘I want you.’ Daniel said, in that same knowing way he talked about the pyramids and the ancient Egyptians. ‘And I know you want me too. So why don’t we stop circling each other like some kind of alpha predator and actually do something about it?’

That had been peak Daniel. An argument rushed out on excitable words that Jack couldn’t think of a good excuse to argue back with. It didn’t hurt that they were coming to the end of Daniel’s contract, and his shit for brains ex-student hadn’t so much as sent a threatening email since the cops got involved.

And in true Daniel fashion, he dug and he dug and he dusted off all the broken vase pieces of Jack’s heart and he treasured them just as they were. No need to be glued back together, or polished. Daniel loved him as much academically as he did emotionally, and Jack loves the son of a bitch so much for it that it keeps him up at night sometimes.

Literally.

Just the other night, Jack had lain there, tipped over onto his side because Daniel slept like the damn dead, and watched the way the filtered light from the street outside played against Daniel’s cheekbone, and felt that knot in his chest go taut. Daniel was the reason Jack got out of bed every day.

(And in the morning, while Daniel was shoveling oatmeal into his mouth without looking away from the translation in front of him, Jack had let slip ‘Charlie would have liked you’. And he meant it, too. Charlie had been whip smart, too. He would have loved Daniel.)

“No short jokes from you, junior.” It’s a lazy back and forth, and Jack digs at his own thoughts for a second until he can find the words that Daniel had used for it in one of his lectures last week. Call and response.

Jack wasn’t getting paid to sit in on the lectures now. But he still liked to take up a spot in the back row and do the crossword with the ebb and flow of Daniel’s voice washing over him, the same way the sound of the sea was washing over him now.

“I would never.” But Daniel’s voice trails off, the same way that his attention is fading, already shifting back to the book in his hand. If Jack was a betting man, he’d bet that tonight would be one of those nights that he’d have to roll out of bed with creaking knees and crackling ankles at two in the morning and usher Daniel into bed. He was close to a breakthrough, and Jack knew that getting much else out of him today when his brain was in Translation Mode wasn’t going to happen.

“Yeah yeah.” Jack repeats, his own kind of absent as he reaches over to squeeze Daniel’s knee, careful not to bump the book where it sits in his lap. He turns his own attention back to the rod and reel he’s been ignoring through this stroll down memory lane, giving it a little tug on the line.

Nothing was biting at the moment, but that was alright. Jack had nothing else to do, and there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

#ch: jack #polyfacetious | daniel #polyfacetious #queued #v: expats row #carlota's christmas drabbles

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wellhalesbells · 4 years

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fic help

i recently finished a fic project that got well out of hand and i’m having trouble jumping to my next. since this last wasn’t sterek, or even tw, i would very much like to scarper back there but i cannot seem to settle on a project that does it for me (or, well, they kind of all do it for me, hence the problem).

if you have the time and inclination and want to help me choose, i would very much appreciate it!

He opens his eyes to sharp sunlight, rays that’ve had time to hone themselves, coalesce, and start stabbing at strategic places in the apartment. Like the backs of Derek’s eyelids. The comforter around him is rumpled up, bunched in places from a restless sleeper. Which he isn’t. He frowns before it comes back to him.

Laura’s bed.

Stiles.

He’d woken up earlier in the pitch black with Stiles’ forehead pressed into the valley between his shoulder blades, breath a warm and reliable puff through his thin t-shirt, his hand clenched on the hill of Derek’s bicep, snagging him, pulling him back against him.

Derek hadn’t brushed him off. Though it had given him a moment’s pause, strange without the swell of breasts between them, fingers digging and pulling him close to an unmistakably masculine chest. But only a moment’s; he’d been asleep again minutes later.

He scrubs at the rough brillo on his jaw, the scent of coffee finally breaking through the haze of exhaustion. He swings his legs out, toes flexing on the warm floorboards, and squints out the window at the brilliant day. “Rain finally stopped,” he says, voice scratchy and breath foul.

[notes: a total au set in new york. laura’s been murdered and stiles was laura and derek’s emissary, though never that close to the grumpy younger brother. now they have to work together to find out who killed her, while coming to terms with the fact that the piece that made them work is gone.]

“You’re letting demons possess you.” It should come out scolding, furious, but Derek is too numb from the revelation. Too willing to be wrong, to believe he’s misunderstood Stiles’ meaning.

Stiles squints, that slow roll and stretch of his muscles shifting his weight, clenching and unclenching his fingers on his forearms, an absentminded exploration of his regular capabilities now he was back in control of them. “Can we really call it a ‘possession’ when I’m calling more shots than they do? I advertise like an Air BnB and run the place like Alcatraz. If I enjoy the power bump of my fire rose, well, isn’t that just a reward for doing the dirty work? It’s all win-win on this side of the negotiating table.”

[notes: this is wholly because of the exchange between stiles and a recently met liam in canon, when stiles explains he was possessed by an evil spirit, and liam asks, “what are you now?” and stiles says, “better,” instead of ‘human.’ and i had a ‘well, well, welllll’ moment.]

After a week or so, his mail’s transmuted from warm air and a spattering of dirt into a flyer for a pizza place roughly five miles away and an offer for a credit card. He walks back up, the stairs offering a little less protestation, papers gripped tight in his hand and slips through the half-open door, rolling it closed behind him.

The heartbeat that knocks against his eardrums is sudden and unbalancing.

His head whips up, fangs dropping.

“Total cry for help, didn’t need a warrant.” Gloved hands with bare fingers walk up the underside of a dried, brown leaf and the sick-sweet scent of decay slides into one of freshness and health. The fern blossoms above the scratch of blunt fingernails along spidery veins. Green belches out, overflows from the small clay pot.

[notes: um, definitely a derek returning to beacon hills fic and an uber powerful stiles, beyond that... ??? but i can make it a thing, heh ;)]

Stiles rubs the pads of his fingers together, wiping the sticky residue off on his jeans. Goes back in with his teeth. A piece of electrical tape from the handle of his bat tears away. It’s lost some of its adhesive but it’ll work for his purposes. He catches the call before the last of ‘Good Old Days’ can fade out.

“‘Sup, Growls?”

A disappointed whuff of breath greets him. “Your camera’s blocked because—?” Scott cuts him off before he can even attempt a reply. “Injured, lying, or underground?”

“You know one day I’ll score that entire trifecta and then? Then I’m going to Disney World.” Scott doesn’t bite and Stiles sighs. “Busted it chasing those lady-hyena-things. On the upside, I’m only one phone away from filling up my punch card.”

[notes: a harder, living-away-from-beacon-hills-after-he-and-derek-broke-up stiles in this and hunting down supes on his own, because he’s reckless and terrifying and an emotional landmine waiting to explode.]

“No. No, no. Hey, no. I see what you’re doing over there and I don’t ap—” The stack of books leans too far and cascades down the front of the dresser, hits his floor, and explodes in every direction. “What did I just say?”

His door whaps open, knob meet wall, and Scott stands there with a baking sheet held aloft in his hands. “We don’t have renter’s insurance,” he offers, swinging it wildly in front of him.

“You say that as you put a knob-sized hole in my wall?”

Scott opens his eyes, which he’s scrunched closed as he pendulumed the baking supplies around. He frowns at the flung door. His stance goes from ‘making cookies my bitch’ to ‘depressed egg.’ “In my defense, I assumed we were being robbed.”

Stiles pats his head now that the baking sheet is no longer a weapon. “And you also thought the robber would be compassionate enough not to rob us if he knew we don’t have renter’s insurance.”

[notes: i have literally no clue, i don’t remember the impetus for this AT ALL but i could definitely work with it, lol.]

Stiles had finally arrived home for the holiday break, two days after he’d initially promised and with a half-hearted, what-can-you-do sort of shrug that offered little by way of explanation or excuse, and he’d flung himself out of the Jeep with his arms uncovered. Derek had frowned hard seeing it for the first time.

He’s still frowning now.

Galaxy black ink bands both of Stiles’ wrists like delicate bracelets and creeps up his forearms in curving, flowing lines that vary in size and width. It might look something like seaweed dancing in an underwater current if not for the fact that, well — Derek glances down at his own bare forearms —

If not for the fact that it looks like pain. Pain the way he knows it, secondhand and agonizing. Pain that is tarry black anguish glutting his veins and poisoning his blood.

He’s not going to analyze why Stiles would choose to etch that into his skin.

Mostly because he doesn’t need to.

Derek knows what the nogitsune did to him, and he knows Stiles hasn’t come close to putting that behind him, or done much to try to.

[notes: long after stiles has contented himself with being the token human of the pack, his spark manifests, unfortunately not... well and doubly unfortunately, long after deaton has left town. scott will only accept one emissary now so stiles has to try to figure out how to properly become one. it’s not going well, and not only because no one can seem to figure out why his spark ‘works’ the way it does but also because, after the nogitsune, power hardly rests easy on stiles’ shoulders.]

It’s really fucking with his head how much Derek’s whole creature-of-the-night thing isn’t jiving with his sleeping-until-noon existence.

And it’s not just that Derek can’t seem to grasp that Stiles’ skin is a living record. That when there’s the clear afterimage of a mouth on his neck, he and his dad have to valiantly pretend neither one of them notice it for the next week. It’s not just that though. It’s also—

Stiles has secrets. He likes them. Collects them. It’s a comfort thing, a control thing maybe. Sometimes they’re big, sometimes they’re not, but they’re always his. Theories, actions, thoughts, things of his own that will only ever be his.

Except.

Except he doesn’t have secrets, not anymore, not around a fucking werewolf. Derek can smell them through his pores, hear him chasing them down from across a crowded room, cock his head and listen to the lie in his pulse. There’s nothing sacred anymore, nothing private, and Stiles can’t anymore.

[notes: okay, it’s just... i never see this? and, being honest, i could not date a friggin’ werewolf. i’m not even a secret person as much as i just enjoy being alone and you would have to make sustained EFFORT to be alone - you’d have to go farther, mask whatever you did if you didn’t want it known, have someone who wouldn’t ask why or what you were doing (which is just like when people ask me NOW what i’m doing and i don’t want to say ‘writing explicit gay sex, thanks for asking, mom’). i’m not on board. i could totes see stiles not being on board and, of course, he’d rather magic a ‘solution’ than have a conversation, my dumb little dummy. this one would definitely need the most work since i would probably rewrite everything i’ve already got, it just doesn’t... gel well.]

#five more under the cut #all #sterek #teen wolf #hoping you guys can point me in a good direction :)))))

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

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"You Might Aswell Just Come Out!"

Thursday 10th September

Good evening again everyone! Hope your day has been a good one - whether you've been relaxing at home or whether you've been out and working, hope it's been a good day for you all! We are back again with another episode tonight, we know Tuesday's episode ended with Chantelle dropping the bombshell on Kheerat that she is planning on leaving Gray the very next day!! Clearly something is going to stop Chantelle in her tracks, but what?!

Let's delve right into it! The episode starts with Ian waking up in the Vic, Sharon has only gone and made him a full English Breakfast!! The absolute works! I can still sense the flicker of guilt from him - he doesn't really deserve the Vic or the appreciation that Sharon is giving him. She thanks him for looking after both her and her baby boy, saying how she feels like a princess each time he's ran out to get groceries for her! He's there giving her a smile, even though it looks a bit forced! It's as if everything with Dotty has been forgotten about, Sharon hasn't even begun to even suspect for once that Dotty could be telling the truth. It's only going to hit her harder when she realises.

Across the Square, it looks as if Gray is finally heading back to work. Chantelle is stood behind the counter looking nervous and scared to even talk or move. It's the day she's planning on leaving her husband for good! Before he leaves he asks her whether she has her phone, he demands her to keep it with her, oh you know, just in case! She asks him softly on what time he'll return, she tells him she'll have dinner ready. Is this so she can time it right for her to get away before he gets back? So if what I'm thinking is right - she has until 1 o'clock to get away! As he leaves the house she grabs her phone and makes a call, it sounds as if she's making an enquiry about an apartment or house of some kind that she can stay in? During the phone conversation she looks down at her ring, is she going to pawn her jewellery just so she'll be able to afford it?!

In the Market, Mick bumps into Tina - I'm sure they probably haven't seen each other since lock-down. I'm unsure where Mick and Linda are staying right now but it sounds as if they're all settled in their new home. Linda is doing well to stay sober also, the only downside is that Mick is struggling to find a job, with him being Landlord of the Queen Vic for a good few years, it's probably been hard for him to find something he's qualified for - as he explains to Tina, he's had 4 interviews but not got the job in any of them because he's overqualified! Luckily, Tina decides to give him a permanent position at The Albert. I don't know about you guys but it feels so weird seeing both Mick and Linda looking for jobs in the Square now, they've been a part of the Queen Vic for so long, it's weird not seeing them behind that bar! It's true they're already popular within their neighbourhood and community, I'm sure they'll have plenty of people rallying round them if they needed any help.

In the Mitchell household, Ben still has his little package in his pocket ready to give to Callum. Oh bless! He's all excited and ready to go the seaside to listen to the seagulls with his partner, only Callum refuses to go. I feel sorry for Ben at this moment in time, as he has no idea what Callum has found. He's been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he could potentially lose all his hearing, until yesterday when he had the implant and it was the first time in weeks that he heard Callum's voice! He explains to his boyfriend that that was one of the biggest days of his life and he's disappointed that Callum doesn't seem to care. Only we know, that Callum knows that Ben has been lying to him. It's kinda sad to watch because all Ben is wanting to hear, is Callum tell him that he loves him. Of course Callum wouldn't deny that he doesn't love Ben, but knowing that he's plainly lying to his face is just getting him more and more angry. Why won't Ben tell him the truth? To save him the upset possibly? To not come between him and his job? Who knows? But when Callum decides to bring Danny Hardcastle up, once again Ben lies to his boyfriend and says he's not seen him since that incident at Ruby's. Callum scoffs in disbelief that once again his boyfriend has lied to him, he leaves the conversation before anything else can be said.

The next time we see Chantelle it looks as if she's leaving the pawn shop, Karen approaches her excitedly saying how much she has missed her and the kids. Did any one else notice that Chantelle was fidgeting with her sleeves? Like she was trying to cover up her hands so her Mum wouldn't see that she's not wearing her ring?! Chantelle tries to dash as she uses the excuse she needs to take the children to the dentist. As Karen begins to leave, Chantelle then calls to her Mum that she'll bring the kids round to see her, as she's missed them so much. Plus with Chantelle's plan on leaving, she'll know she'll never forgive herself if her Mum and Dad didn't get the chance to say goodbye to their grandchildren. Only will this cause her to run late and corrupt her plan to get away?!

Ha! Sorry I just need to applaud Dotty for messing with Ian's head! She is brilliant! She actually made him believe that Sharon loves him! Did you see that little smile appear on his face after she walked away?! He actually believed her! Sharon has always said from the beginning that she and Ian are just close friends. Ian has only been "her rock" the past few months out of guilt. She fell apart after Dennis died, he took her in and looked after her and her baby son, and also as a massive gesture - bought her the Queen Vic! And since lock-down he has been living with her and Albie, as Dotty says - in the hopes of things actually getting more romantic and intimate between them. I think it's no secret that Ian has always held a bit of torch for Sharon, they've been close friends for years but I think deep down he has always truly loved her. As for Sharon, she's never seen Ian as anything else other than a close friend, she's never had any romantic feeling towards him - ever! So why the hell should she start now?! I love that Dotty has used this information to her advantage, Ian is only going to make another fool of himself!

Meanwhile, at the Taylor's, Chantelle is visiting her parents. As she sits down and listens to Karen talking about much she is missing Chatham and Riley, also Keegan and Tiffany now they've moved out, Chantelle is looking round and looking at all the family photos. I think she feels this will be the last time in a while that she'll get to see her Mum and Dad, so she's taking everything in. She turns to her Mum and tells her how much she loves her, and how much she loves her family and her parents. I'm sure deep down inside it is killing her knowing she'll be fleeing in a few hours. I just hope she would tell her parents exactly what was happening and why she has to leave. Just for a split moment when Mitch was going to hand her some money, I thought she might've said something then ... she slightly hesitated, did anyone else notice? She decides to decline her Dad's offer of the money and says to him that Keegan would need it more, she takes one last look at her parents and softly says goodbye to them, not a thought in their mind aware of what she's about to do!

Ooooh look! Frankie's back! It's nice to see her making more of an appearance on the Square! It looks as if Kathy has given her a job at The Albert! Ooops - only to find that Tina has also hired Mick! #Awkward! ... In the recent new trailer that was released, it showed Frankie taking pictures of little Ollie. Does she have some kind of connection to the Carter's? Why would she be taking pictures of Ollie?! I'm looking forward to seeing more of Frankie and what could be her story-line involving the Carter's. I know Frankie was meant to have a story-line with Ben, I kinda have a feeling we haven't seen that yet? Only she was introduced to him by Callum, are we going to see something more from that side of things? Is Frankie going to show Ben the deaf community and how it all works, even though he's slowly getting his hearing back, it would enlighten Ben I think. Poor Mick, he decides to let Frankie have the job at The Albert, but as he leaves you can see the look of disappointment on his face, another job he's potentially lost? Will he be able to find something?

Back at Vic, Linda is having a lovely catch up with her best friend, Sharon. To be honest, it's lovely to see these two having a nice catch up and a chat the way they are. Obviously the roles have reversed with now Sharon behind the bar and Linda sat as a punter - but I watch them and I can't help but think it's so real how they've done it. With the whole social-distancing aspect in place, Sharon is behind the bar and Linda is sat at her table ... I think that whole scene was brilliant and it just felt very realistic. I loved how Ian was eavesdropping on their conversation, Sharon complimenting him on how amazing he's been to her though-out lock-down. He is going to high jump to conclusions! I love how they both laugh at the thought of both herself and Ian being an item, little does the poor man know how humiliated he's going to be!

Does anyone else seem to understand what Vinny and Ruby are up to? I kinda didn't understand that moment, to my understanding Ruby doesn't have insurance for the club? Am I right in thinking that? So Vinny is going to help her in some way - saying she's needs cash or something? I am so confused with this one! Vinny is seen loitering, waiting - for what looks like - Ruby to come out the club, she previously told him the club would be empty with cash in the safe! Is going to try and get that money for something or someone?

Awww and Chantelle looks as if she's ready to flee, she waiting for children, calling for them to hurry. Kheerat approaches her and pleads for her to tell him where she's going. Little does Chantelle that from across the road, Gray is watching her from his car. Watching as Kheerat and Chantelle have their little quick discussion, the look on Chantelle's face is utter fear as Gray makes himself known, Kheerat backs away and Gray reminds her that he didn't want Kheerat talking to her. I really feel for Chantelle right now, she almost got away. She was almost out of his grasp, as they walk into the house - Kheerat watches from a distance, catching Chantelle's eyes and Gray's. I am so sure that Kheerat's going to suss Gray out, he's going to find out exactly what's been happening! The BIG question is - will it be too late before he does?!

Back at The Albert, Ben finally catches up with Callum. He joins him at the table and apologises. He seems to think that Callum is upset because of Danny, but to what extent and why. It's only when Callum reveals that he'd figured out that he'd been lied to for months! He questions him why and what it means for their relationship. Ben claims it's literally because he's joined the police force and nothing else, but then again - it shouldn't matter what Callum's job was, he still should've told him the truth. He claims he was trying to protect him, protect him from what though? Protect his job? Protect his safety? The seriousness of the situation really hits home for Ben when he realises that he's been seen on CCTV! What does this mean for Ben and the Mitchell's? How is Callum going to be able to ignore it?

The following scene, Chantelle is back in her bathroom trying to find a hiding place for the money. She decides to put it in a make-up bag and hide it in the toilet, Gray shouts out for her as she makes herself look busy in the bathroom. Of course the first thing Gray notices, he engagement ring is missing! Oh shit! How is she going to be able to explain that one?! Perhaps say it's gone down the drain something?

Oh gosh this is really cringe-worthy isn't it! Ian trying to find the words to say to Sharon how he feels about her. How many women has he claimed to love on this soap?! Sharon seems to think there's something wrong with Albie, but he decides to jump right in the deep end and pour his heart out to her. Oh and I can see how awkward this is making Sharon feel, an awkward smile on her face, a nervous giggle, twiddling her fingers ... he tells her he loves her and even claims to know that she feels exactly the same way about him ... only when she explains to him that she doesn't, you can see his face drop in dismay. He's clearly realised he's made a huge mistake and has made himself look a fool. What's going to happen now between them? I don't think they'd be able to live together now things have been made to feel awkward between them. Will Ian move out and back in with his Mum while Sharon stays at The Vic?! Will Ian realise that it was Dotty who was playing with his mind?

Okay, so the last scene of tonight's episode, Vinny is seen sneaking out of Ruby's club, carrying a hefty looking bag ... Martin clicks on as to where he came from and begins to give chase. Has Vinny nicked all the money that was in the club's safe?! Vinny heads to the back entrance of the Minute Mart, Martin slowly closing in ... he calls for him and slowly enters the shop, looking in all the nooks and cranny's. Only Vinny appears from behind and bashes him over the head with a fire extinguisher. Martin is left lying unconscious! What the hell has he done?! and why did he attack Martin in such a way?! Why does Vinny need the money? Was he getting the money for Kheerat as a favour?! Will Martin be okay?!

Once again folks, i'm deeply sorry for this post being posted late! Unfortunately it may take me a few days to write up about tomorrow's episode as i'm going to be away from my laptop/computer for about 3/4 days. But I promise I will be up to date as soon as I can. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend! Thank you all so much for taking your time to read my blog, I know the posts can be long but I just want you to know I appreciate it immensely! Thanks again folks! xXx

#eastenders #ianbeale #sharonwatts #mickcarter #lindacarter #tinacarter #chantelleatkins #grayatkins #kheerat panesar #vinny panesar #dottycotton #martinfowler #rubyallen #karentaylor #mitchbaker #callumhighway #benmitchell #ballum #frankielewis

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

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Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Justin Foley #justin foley jensen #Bryce Walker #trigger warning #cyrus 13rw #scott reed #zach dempsey #FEEDBACK PLEASE

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choupichoups · 5 years

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.10

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

"You’re sure you're okay with this?”

Lucas pauses, croissant halfway shoved in his mouth as he regards Eliott with an inquisitive brow. “With what?”

“Me announcing to… uh… all my followers who I’m dating.”

Lucas resumes eating, rolling his eyes as he brushes the crumbs off his fingers. “I already told you it’s okay,” he says, partly muffled due to the food in his mouth. “What can they do anyway?”

Eliott chokes on a laugh, “What can they do? Lucas, have you seen the shit people do on social media?” He runs a fork over the leftover avocado on his plate. “You know what, I should probably delete that story, it’s only been half an hour anyway—”

“There’s no point, someone’s already saved that by now. It’ll just be up somewhere else.” He shrugs, feeling not an ounce of worry on this subject. “You posted about me before and if you haven’t noticed, some of your fans already found my account too.” He takes a sip of his coffee, smiling as he nibbles on the straw. “And your face is all over that one.”

Eliott reaches over the table for Lucas’ hand, entangling their fingers together before bringing their hands up to his lips. He brushes a light kiss over the back of Lucas’ hand before pressing a smile into the same spot. “I just don’t want you feeling bad over any of this.”

“No stranger on the internet can get to me, Eliott,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes again despite the fact that his voice might sound a tad too fond for eight in the morning. “Here.” He detaches their hands to get to his phone, pulling up that adorable photo he took of his boyfriend before leaving the apartment earlier. Tagging Eliott on the post is barely an afterthought and he cackles over the caption before placing his phone back down. “There, now if your admirers attack me it’s gonna be equally my fault.”

Lucas hands Eliott’s phone over, laughing to himself when his boyfriend’s expression morphs into outright affront after seeing the comments.

He goes back to eating his food, noticing that his own phone is now buzzing with a phone call. He’s been getting calls from an unknown number for the past week but no voicemails are ever left. Lucas makes a point not to answer until an actual human voice leaves a message, convinced that it’s some marketing company trying to sell him their life insurance or some shit. The buzzing stops eventually but it goes straight to into ringing again immediately after.

Lucas wipes his hands down and turns the phone over, almost choking in his haste to swallow down the food in his mouth when he sees the caller.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Lucas Lallemant?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he responds in a rush. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m so sorry for calling in so early, but Mrs. Lallemant has been asking for you all morning and we’re having trouble having her cooperate--”

Lucas doesn't let the nurse finish. “I’ll be there, I’ll be there soon. Can you let her know that?”

“Of course, we will, thank you--”

He’s already digging around his wallet before he ends the call, looking up to his boyfriend’s worried eyes when Lucas leaves money on the table that is very likely much more than what they owe.

“I need to go,” he says, stumbling out of his chair in his hurry.

“Whoa, hey, slow down, what’s going on?” Eliott follows after him, catching his arm in a strong grip before Lucas can dash out to the streets without him.

“My mom--” Shit, he doesn’t have the time nor the brain power to give Eliott the entire tragic backstory so he settles for an agitated, “It’s complicated. I have to go see her.”

“Can I take you there?” Eliott asks carefully, holding Lucas’ face in between his hands so that the latter’s eyes would quit darting around and just focus on him. “I won’t go in with you, I’ll just drop you off. Is that okay?”

And Lucas does focus on him, worry increasing as he thinks of what Eliott’s reaction would be. But explaining to his boyfriend why he can’t accompany Lucas to a task as menial as dropping one’s significant other off to their parent’s house sounds more taxing than simply agreeing, so he nods. If Eliott notices the reluctance in the act, he doesn’t question it.

But the closer their bus gets to the clinic, the more Lucas is starting to regret that decision.

He can feel Eliott’s confused glances when Lucas gets off at a stop nowhere near the residential areas. The clinic is a lengthy building that takes up the entire acre beside the road— there are no other buildings beside it and the giant sign by the gated entrance gives it away without Lucas needing to explain where they are.

Chancing a glance up at his boyfriend, Lucas can’t tell what’s going through his mind. Eliott’s face is blank, the confusion and worry from earlier have disappeared. It makes Lucas nervous.

However, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later.

“Hey, I’m Lucas Lallemant, I got a call earlier for…”

“Ah, yes. I’ll get the nurse for you right away.” The receptionist busies herself with the phone and Lucas turns to Eliott, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Um, you don’t… have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Eliott’s eyes are trained on something over Lucas’ shoulder. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

“Lucas?” A frazzled looking nurse addresses him and Lucas follows after her, trying not to think too much about Eliott being present for this. “Thank you so much for coming so quickly, we had notes on her file to call you if something like this happens but with Marie gone, we weren’t quite sure how to proceed.”

“That’s fine, thanks.” To be fair, his mother hasn’t had any terrible meltdowns since moving into this clinic.

“She’s in her room, not acknowledging anyone, just keeps saying your name.”

Lucas thanks her again with a small, apologetic smile. The nurse looks young— she’s probably new, judging from the many emotions flitting across her features for every word she speaks. Lucas hasn’t seen a professional in this field who feels so much. Not even Marie.

“Mama?” No response, but he’s figured that would happen. “I’m here now,” he continues, sitting by the bed and fixing the sheets around her shoulders. She’s situated to face the window, back towards him. “Did you need me for something?”

Still nothing. He sees the untouched glass of water placed beside her pills and Lucas runs a finger over the condensation forming on the side as he thinks of what to say next.

She’s told him once before that hearing his voice helps her a lot. Especially on days like this, when she’s unresponsive and away from the reality she doesn’t quite want to face.

“Do you hear it?”

Or maybe not as unresponsive as he’d thought.

Lucas straightens up, leaning on the edge of the bed to hear her soft voice better. “Hear what?”

“The trumpet.”

There’s only silence around them. “No, mama, where is it?”

“It’s been playing since this morning.” She turns on the bed, facing towards the ceiling. Lucas can see the pooling tears in her eyes. “The rapture’s here and I’ve been left behind. It’s because I’m such a bad mother is it? A terrible wife?”

“No—” He shuffles forward to take one of her hands in both of his.

“Ephesians 5:22; wives, submit to your husbands,” she quotes absently, hand limp inside Lucas’ hold. “Is it because of the fight?”

A frown etches its way onto Lucas’ features. “What fight?”

Tears escape from their fragile perch in her eyes. “He’s right.” She turns her head, looking at him this time. “Your life would be so much better if I just go.”

Lucas doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but there’s dread forming in his chest, his mind picking up on everything that goes unsaid. “Where are you going, mama?” He shakes his head, the sight of her delicate tears triggering his own. “That’s not true, I don’t want you to go.”

“So much better without me,” she whispers, head shifting back to resume gazing out the window. Her hand remains small and slack in his grip. It’s evident that she’s not listening to a word he says.

Lucas gets up, scrubbing at his face as he closes the door to her room. He needs to tell Eliott to leave without him as he’s probably going to take a while— he doesn’t feel right, leaving his mama right away when she’s in this terrible of a state.

Eliott’s standing by the walls only a few steps from the room and he gently takes Lucas’ face in his hands, wiping at the tears that stubbornly make their way down his cheeks despite his best efforts to stop fucking crying already.

“Sorry, sorry I’m— this is so sudden I—” He tries to speak through the hitches in his breath.

“Shh, don’t apologize,” Eliott says, pulling Lucas closer to place a sweet kiss on his forehead.

This only serves to make him cry harder for whatever reason and Lucas has to take a deep breath, fists balled at his sides as he tries to reign over his emotions. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit, you should go.” His hands raise to hold onto Eliott’s forearms, thumbs tracing soft lines from back of the palm to wrist. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Eliott nods but doesn’t make a move to pull away.

They only do so when a pair of footsteps echo in the hallway and Lucas does a double take when he sees the man walking beside his mama’s temporary nurse. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Both his father and the nurse pause and Lucas is starting to really feel bad for the poor nurse, getting caught up in their family drama all in less than a day’s worth.

“Please excuse us,” his dad says to her and she takes the golden opportunity to scramble the hell away from them. Eliott doesn’t take the same cue, moving back to give them space but staying within Lucas’ reach. “Hello, Lucas.”

“Why are you here?” Lucas brushes off the niceties. If there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s his father pretending to be a decent human being in front of others. “Have you been talking to her?”

“Yes.”

“Who says you can do that?”

“She’s my wife, I can talk to her.”

“She’s not!” Lucas steps closer, raising his voice as if he’d done the opposite. This man has lost the right to call them his family. “You don’t get to talk to her whenever it’s convenient for you! Did you see what you’ve done? She was doing so fucking well without you!”

“Mind your language, Lucas,” his father grits out. The sound of crumpling papers makes Lucas look down to where the man’s hands are clenched around a file folder. “I’m still your father and I won’t tolerate—”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Lucas scoffs, shaking his head at the audacity. “You’re so full of it.”

Lucas sees the man’s fisted hand move— he sees it, but he does nothing to stop it. Maybe if the hospital cameras catch the bastard acting with violence then Lucas would have a real reason to want to throw him into jail. Or at least to have him stop stirring shit in their lives. Legally.

But no pain reaches him even as he braces for it and when he tunes back in, it’s to Eliott’s back in front of him, one hand gripping Lucas’ father’s wrist in a firm hold.

“That’s enough, sir,” Eliott says, mock polite.

All hands drop back down to their respective sides but the tension remains high up in the air.

His father’s eyes switch from Eliott to Lucas, face impassive. The thick silence only lasts a for few moments, however, because Lucas’ father is as shameless as one can get. He thrusts the file folder under Lucas’ nose, sidestepping the entire wall that is Eliott standing in between the two of them.

“Sign these and mail them back to me, pronto,” the man says, pocketing his hands once Lucas has taken the papers. “Don’t give me a hard time about this, it’s for your own good.”

Lucas spares him the coldest glance he can manage as he reads through the file. Insurance claims? Transfer permission? To Marseille? Taking a sharp breath through his nose, Lucas simmers in silent rage. So this sad excuse of a man finds a new job that provides extra allowance to employees caring for disabled family members and suddenly he’s husband of the year? Fuck that, fuck him.

Fuck everything and his fucked up life.

“Fuck you,” he says, throwing the papers back at his father. He doesn’t give a shit that they land scattered on the ground— maybe the man would pick up some of his dignity along with those papers that way.

Lucas turns around before his father gets over the shock of his reaction, gazes at his mama’s door but he can’t. He can’t deal right now, not after this. There’s a chance that he’d actually lose whatever’s left of his sanity if he goes in and is faced with the hopeless look in her eyes. His mother, who’s supposed to take care of him, hasn’t been able to care for herself for years and years. His father, who’s supposed to provide for him, has abandoned him for longer. Now, he’s stuck dealing with their escalating issues again, an unwilling tether to a breakable thread. He doesn’t know why his mother’s holding on so tight to the delusion of a complete family, he doesn’t know why his father’s holding on so tight to the farce of being a good man.

And Lucas is so tired of this bullshit.

His phone rings with the same unknown number and Lucas wants to throw it to the fucking floor.

He runs for the back exit, not wanting to run into his father when the man leaves the clinic as well. There’s a dire need inside him to breathe in some air, one that doesn’t linger with antiseptic, that clean, fabricated hospital smell that drives him up the wall.

Eliott’s there to hold him when his knees threaten to buckle under him. Lucas turns into his arms immediately, clinging onto the hood of his sweater as he takes in unsteady breaths.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” he says into Eliott’s shoulder, tears making their unwelcome comeback in his tired eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Eliott assures him, hands running back and forth over Lucas’ back. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Lucas retorts. “It’s not.”

“Hey.” Eliott tilts his chin up with a thumb and smiles fondly when Lucas sniffs miserably up at him. Eliott brushes a hand through his hair and kisses him on the forehead again. Lucas’ heart melts, settling calmer with the knowledge that even if his world feels like it’s going for another ride in hell, at least Eliott’s here with him this time, the angel that brings light to his life. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

More tears spill over the corners of his eyes. Eliott deserves happiness all the time, not Saturdays with strange clinics and witnessing shouting matches with horrid fathers.

“I’m so tired,” Lucas whispers, closing his eyes when Eliott’s thumbs come up to brush away his tears. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without them now-- doesn’t ever want to go back to a time without Eliott’s warm, gentle touches. “I just wish that everything’s normal for once.”

“Normal how?”

Lucas gestures to the clinic where he and his father held that unpleasant confrontation. The clinic has started to become his mama’s safe space but now that man’s just gone and ruined it. “I’m tired of that bullshit. Why can’t I just have a normal family?” He shakes his head, feels his phone ringing in his pocket for the thousandth fucking time and he doesn’t even want to think about what’s brewing on that front. Telemarketers aren’t that persistent. “Why can’t I just have normal people around me? A normal life? Fuck, I hate this. I don’t wanna deal with any more of this.”

Eliott’s quiet above him but he holds Lucas tight in his arms, very tight. Lucas buries his face in Eliott’s neck and locks his own arms around Eliott’s torso, deflating after finally getting those thoughts out in the open.

“You don’t have to.” Eliott whispers into Lucas’ temple, cheek nuzzling into his hair.

“Hm?”

“You won’t have to deal with it.”

“How?”

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Yann is still there when Eliott drops him off at the apartment. Lucas must look as shitty as he feels because Yann doesn’t tease when he opens the door for them, Lucas being too out of it to bring out his keys. He can feel his best friend and his boyfriend exchange glances above his head and in a better state, he’d probably coo at how they’re able to hold silent conversations already.

But as it is, Lucas just wants to take a goddamn nap.

Lucas turns to ask if Eliott would like to stay with them but his boyfriend brings him in for a rather abrupt embrace, so quick and inexplicably strong that Lucas loses his breath for a moment. His hands fly up to Eliott’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie as he presses his nose to Eliott’s chest. Eliott has his face buried in his neck and Lucas feels him take a deep, lingering inhale before pulling away with a soft touch to Lucas’ hair.

“Take care of yourself, hm?”

Lucas nods dumbly, watching Eliott walk away.

lucallemant thank you for coming with me earlier do you have any plans tomorrow?

srodulv me and idris actually have to start another project so I'm gonna be busy for a while

lucallemant oh ok airplane mode type of busy?

srodulv yeah

lucallemant okay, take care of yourself this time lol don’t forget to eat and sleep good night eliott ♥️

#skam france #elu fic #elu #elu insta au #fictag #i have nothing to say but sorry #and yes im trying to sneakily fix the typo #shhhh #shhhhhhhh #dont look for it

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

Text

Love in Color, Full Bright (Colt x MC)

A/N: This is the second part of Love in B&W; this part was inspired by @flowerpowell and @umiumichan (bad influences everywhere!). I didn’t know there was going to be a second part until they commented on the first part. Thanks, to both of you, for everything but especially for inspiring something happy.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 3,450 words

Rating: N*FW (super light N*FW, more suggested than anything, but I want to be safe)

Summary: Colt has to go back to the safe deposit box.

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @powdesiree0816 @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices@leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit

Colt didn’t know if his life was ending or if it was beginning, if he would settle down and stay or yank up the roots that were tying him here and disappear into the night. All he could do right now was pull Ellie closer as she slept, softly dropping a kiss on each closed eye, on her nose, her lips, and listen to her breathe as he watched the moon move through the sky.

~~~~~

He had to leave early to make it there before it closed. Luckily, Mona had no plans and was willing to close the shop for him. If it were later in the week, he had no doubt she would tell him off and leave to go out, run the town like always. Mondays were quiet, usually, so she agreed to help him out. He knew he would need to pay for it down the line, but this errand was worth it.

He made it there 15 minutes before closing. He hadn’t come in years but still remembered the procedure, what to say, what to bring. Alone in the back room, alone with his thoughts, and this random case from his past.

His hands skated over the contents. He remembered thinking how much money there was in here; now, seven years later, he knew it wasn’t enough for the things he now needed to do, plans he now needed to make. He grabbed the smaller box, a quick check to make sure it was still in there. The ring sparkled in the light, bigger than he remembered, as if it had grown.

He shoved it in his pocket, closing the case, and left. He was going to be home late and Ellie would look at him, frown, and worry.

He worried too.

~~~~~

The next day, he stopped his bike at the cliff, walking out to the edge, staring at the water lap at the shore. He wanted complete privacy for this call and this was the best place for it.

The phone rang once, twice, three times and finally an answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi! How are you?” He could hear noise in the backgrounds, crowds. She was still at work.

No use dragging this out. “Ma, I gotta ask you something.”

“What?” He could hear the waver in her voice; after all the shit he pulled, she was understandably nervous.

“Did you and Pop ever wanna get married?”

“What?!?” He waited. “Colt…..”

“I just wanna know.”

She sighed, loud, and there was a loud scrape as she shifted the phone. “No. We never talked about it but we never really wanted to. Why?”

He touched the box in his pocket, careful fingers tracing the sides. “No reason. I gotta go, Ma. I’ll call you later?”

“Ok. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He watched the waves for a while, the sun sinking down. It was beautiful here, peaceful. As the years had gone by, he had come here a lot. It was hard, at first, facing the memories, facing his past. Now, it was comforting, almost like his dad was here with him. He wondered what his dad would tell him to do.

When he got home, Ellie was sitting at her desk, massive textbook in front of her, laptop balanced in her lap.

“You’re late.” She didn’t even look up. Shit, she was annoyed.

“Sorry, baby.” He walked over to drop a kiss on her forehead as she rubbed her eyes.

“It’s ok.” She looked up at him, smiling weakly. “It’s fine, really. I just….I don’t feel great.”

He bent down to pull her into his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back. He didn’t think he could help her. He’d never been able to help any of the people he cared about. Why would now be different?

~~~~~

Wednesday found him pulling into a familiar restaurant. He walked in, past the host’s station, glancing around. It was dead, as per usual; the most successful part of his uncle’s restaurant was definitely not the food and beverage part of the establishment.

He sat at the bar, drumming his finger’s on the wood. He didn’t come here a lot but, since his uncle was one of his only family members in LA and one of the last connections he had to his dad, Colt definitely wasn’t a stranger here. He only had to wait a few minutes until Takehito emerged from the back.

He didn’t look shocked to see Colt, settling next to him at the bar.

“You wanna drink?”

Colt shook his head. “No, not today. I want info.”

“On what?” His uncle reminded him of his dad, so much that it hurt to look at him at times. Same hair, same eyes, same desire for a life of freedom, same distaste for the law.

He pulled out the box. “This was my dad’s. Who was it for?”

“Whoa.” His uncle studied the ring under the dim light of the bar. “This is quite a rock.”

“I know.”

“This was Teppei’s?”

“It was in the safe deposit box.”

“Hmmmm….”

Colt waited, looking around. The place was still empty, a lone employee sitting near the back, playing games on his phone. It was probably a boring place to be if you didn’t touch the back room deals.

“Do you know when he got it?”

“No.”

Takehito shrugged, putting the ring back. “I don’t think he bought it for anyone, no one that I knew at least. And I would have known. Maybe he won it, somewhere along the line? Payment for a car?”

Colt put the box in his pocket. He didn’t expect that Takehito would know anything, but it was a disappointment regardless.

“Maybe he meant for you to have it.”

He tried to keep his face impassive. He did his damnedest to keep Ellie as far from his family tree as he could; it hadn’t exactly gone well the last time.

“Maybe he left it for you. Is there a reason you’re asking about it now?” Takehito turned to him, eyes probing.

He kept looking forward, covering his mouth with his hand until he he knew his face was expressionless. “Just tying up the loose ends.”

He turned to go, he had to leave, now, but an arm on his shoulder stopped him. “I actually need your help with something as well.”

Colt looked back at Takehito, the set of his eyes, the frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Fuck. He sank back into the bar stool. “A job.”

“A job.” His uncle nodded, grimly, before starting a story about a rival pusher, a tough night, and a stray bullet hitting a friend. Colt could only nod and do what he did best.

On the way home, already late fuck, he stopped at the grocery store, rushing through the aisles. He had no idea what to buy, what she would like, what would make her feel better, but he did his best. Based on the confused look from the cashier, he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Ellie was curled up with a book when he got home, pajamas on already. She didn’t even say anything about his lateness today but smiled weakly when he showed her what he brought.

“Can I make you some food?”

She shook her head. Colt thought she looked pale, worse than yesterday. “No, I’m fine.”

When she looked up, looked at his face, she smiled, but it was fake. She was trying not to worry him. It wasn’t working.

~~~~~

He did not want to be here, not at all. He was standing on the doorstep, coming straight here after work on Thursday, but he hadn’t knocked yet. It wasn’t nerves, it was the dread. One more deep breath and, fuck, the door opened.

“You know I can hear your motorcycle for blocks, right? Are you coming in?”

Colt hung his head. “Hi, Detective.”

Ellie’s dad stood aside, letting him into the entry way. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Home. She doesn’t know I’m here.”

Ellie’s dad fixed him with a look. They had come to an understanding, a stalemate. Colt didn’t talk about his family or the garage or his work or anything really; the only things Colt said in his presence were accolades about his daughter. In return, Ellie’s dad tolerated his existence and stopped threatening him with the business end of his service pistol. Not the greatest relationship in the world but it worked.

Colt reached into his pocket. “If I showed you something, could you tell me if it was hot?”

The detective raised his eyebrows but said nothing, letting his expression speak for him.

“It was my dad’s. He left it for me and I want to make sure it’s legit. That’s all.”

He handed over the box, watching as the detective opened it. Colt focused on not fidgeting under the glare he got. Finally, he got an answer. “All pieces this large have an ID code, in base of the setting. I can run it in the database and see what pops. Wait here.”

Colt shoved his hands into his pockets, walked slow circles around the room, looking at the pictures on the wall. Finally, Ellie’s dad returned and handed the ring box back. “Not hot, but pricey. Records show that it was designed ten years ago by a rich heir in Long Beach. Three years after that, insurance was purchased on it by your dad. It was never reported missing or stolen. I have no idea how he got his hands on it; I probably don’t want to know, but it’s not hot.”

Colt nodded, tucking it away. “Thank you.” Why would his dad get an engagement ring seven years ago? That was right when Colt moved back to LA, right when he forced himself into his dad’s life, and he would have remembered his dad talking about someone.

He turned to go, hand on the knob, when the detective spoke again. “You don’t have my blessing.”

Colt nodded and walked out the door, making sure it was firmly shut behind him and walking far enough away so only the bike would hear him mutter, “Didn’t ask.”

When he got home, Ellie was awake but already in bed. She looked exhausted and small, wearing his sweatshirt and resting on piles of pillows. He slid in to gather her in his arms, but she turned away.

“Where were you?”

He didn’t answer, could only trail his fingers down her back to circle her waist, dropping a kiss in her hair.

“Colt, if you don’t….” She stopped, hand wiping tears off her face. “If you can’t do this, you need to leave.”

He shut his eyes and pulled her closer. He didn’t know if he could do this without fucking it up and breaking everything around him. He couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t tell her it was going to be ok, could barely eke out a word, but he knew what he could do. He could show her. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, right there, that spot, slowly, deeply, until she made that sound that drove him mad; he kissed down her body, lips tongue and fingers moving, moving, and not stopping until she shuddered and cried out.

He crawled back up to the pillows and held her close, hands skating over her back, slow around her stomach, touching everywhere he could reach, until she finally fell asleep. She needed her rest.

~~~~~

The air was thick with incense and Colt couldn’t help but cough. This was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done and he had pulled a lot of stupid shit. At least this was relatively harmless; unlike most of the destructive decisions he had made, this wouldn’t end up hurting anyone.

The room was dark, dim and just fucking weird, exactly what he should have expected when he googled the highest rated occult shop in LA. There were weird crystals in a case underneath some kind of skull (a goat? the fuck?), next to some powders that he was sure he could move on the black market. He almost turned around, this was so stupid, but this was the last fear he had, the last item he needed to check off of his mental list of shit that could go wrong. He had fought through an hour of LA-traffic, lane-splitting the bike the entire way to get here, he might as well finish it.

“Hello?”

A bell chimed and a woman walked through a beaded curtain, hair wild around her face, scarfs billowing behind her. She stopped as she caught sight of him, head tilting, curious.

“What do you have for me?”

Colt started. “I’m sorry?”

“There is something you want to show me, yes?”

He took a step back, involuntarily. This just got creepy. “I do.” She waited, blinking up at him as he reached into his pocket. “Can you tell me if something is cursed?”

She laughed. She looked young, as young as him, but her laugh was that of an older woman, hardened by time and experience. He swallowed, wondering if it was too late to run for it.

“I can tell you many things.” She took the box and opened it, removing the ring with two gentle fingers. Even in the dim light of the shop, it gleamed, looking enormous in her small hands.

She turned it back and forth, over and over, careful eyes studying it before putting it back into the box.

“It’s not cursed.”

Colt breathed out. He half expected her to say it was, as an excuse to hawk some magic “decursing” powder or some shit like that. He dropped the box in his pocket.

“You’re cursed.” He froze, the words stopping him in his tracks. It took a moment before he was able to smile, dry laugh slipping out.

“I already knew that.”

She started again. “You’re cursed…but that doesn’t mean you curse others. That doesn’t mean those around you are cursed. Stop worrying about that. The curse on you is only on you.” He met her eye. “You are your choices, Colt. You can bring fire to those around you or you can lift them up. You can desert them or you can stand by them.”

He swallowed. “How did you know my name?”

An enigmatic smile was the only answer to his question. “Good luck to you, child.”

He watched her walk though the beaded curtain, into the back room. When he was sure he was alone, he fled.

Ellie was already asleep when he got home. He took a quick shower, rinsing the smoke and the magic off his hair, then curled next to her, resting his palm ever so lightly on her stomach. It didn’t feel any different but everything had changed. He dreamed of fire and cursed boys who became cursed men; he barely slept.

~~~~~

He woke up slowly gradually. The sun was high in the sky; thank God it was Saturday. He turned and Ellie was sitting at her desk, watching him, out of sweats for the first time all week. Shit. The look on her face, fuck; he needed to wake up for this.

“Good morning.”

“What’s wrong?”

She frowned, looking out the window. It took her a couple of moments to speak. “I just feel like I haven’t seen you. Since Sunday.”

She was right. He ducked his head.

“Listen, if you’re not in this, if you can’t do this with me, it’s ok, I get it. I was surprised too.”

“Ellie….” He wasn’t awake enough yet; she continued as if he hadn’t even tried to say anything at all.

“I know I surprised you but maybe this is what we needed to figure things out. For me to figure things out. Because I really need someone in my corner right now and it seems like it’s not gonna be you.”

Wait, what was she saying?

“I think I’m gonna go stay with my dad for a bit.”

Fuck. “No, not that!”

He followed her to the living room. He didn’t want her to leave, couldn’t stand to see her walk away. He was also admittedly worried about her dad’s access to guns; if Ellie moved home, especially after Thursday, he was a dead man. And he would absolutely deserve it. Hell, he would pull the trigger himself.

“Ellie, wait.”

“What, Colt?” Her hand was already on the door knob, tears in her eyes.

He reached for his jacket. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this either! I’m in the middle of grad school, I want to get my PhD, the timing is awful, I get it!” She swiped at her face, angry.

“Whoa, no, not that. I mean, yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

He didn’t even think she heard him. “It just happened and I need you to decide, Colt, in or out. Will you stand by me?”

He finally got the box out of his pocket and crossed the room, seven steps, and extended his arm to her. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

She froze, staring at him. He tried to will his hand to stop shaking. It didn’t work. “What?”

“I would have done it anyways, maybe not yet, but I would have.”

Finally, she took the box, turning it over in her hands. “Is this what you’ve been doing all week?”

“That’s a really long story.”

She was still playing with the box, looking down, biting her lips. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Ellie, what do you say?”

She still wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t catch his eye.

He waited.

“Everyone will think I’m crazy. My dad, Riya…” She still wouldn’t look up.

“Fuck them all. Fuck them all, Ellie. It’s you and me, that’s all it’s ever been for me.”

She laughed, bitterly. “It’s not just you and me, not anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not. But it is us.”

Finally, finally, fucking Christ, finally, she looked at him, tears in her eyes. “You didn’t ask me.”

“What?”

She smirked, lips twitching. “Do it right.” She handed him the box back.

He stepped closer to her, only stopping when his face was inches from hers. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” This close, he could see the mix of colors in her eyes, brown and grey and green, all colliding into the most beautiful thing in the world.

He kissed her cheek. “I love you.” Kissed her shoulder, arm, hand, slowly kneeling, kissing her stomach, once, twice, three times. “And I love you.”

He looked up at her sob, hand in front of her mouth, eyes glistening. Shit, he didn’t want to cry but the sight of her, smiling at him like he was worth something, tears running down her cheeks. Shit.

“Ellie, marry me.”

She started crying anew, both hands in front of her mouth now.

“Ellie, baby. Come on. Marry me?”

She was grinning, smirking over him. Fuck, he ran a criminal enterprise in the middle of LA and this girl, this girl broke him. “Colt, I was expecting a list of all of my good qualities and a poem about how happy I made you.”

“Hmmm…and a room full of rose petals and some balloons and a kitten for good measure?”

“A kitten with a ring on it’s collar?”

“Ellie, you’re allergic.”

She pulled him up by his arms to meet him into a kiss, her tears falling onto his cheeks. She pulled away, smiling, crying, laughing, with a weird hiccup in her breath that would have been annoying on anyone else but was just so freaking cute on her.

“You didn’t answer.”

“What?”

“Ellie, do it right. You didn’t answer.”

She laughed, louder, peals of joy echoing through the room. “Oh my god, you know the answer.”

He grabbed her waist, pulling her against him as she laughed and laughed, kissing down her face, her neck, starting to go lower when finally she spoke again.

“Yes, yes, oh my God yes.”

He barely remembered putting the ring on her finger, barely remembered what she said next about weddings and planning and telling her dad. He did remember their private celebration, the multiple private celebrations, under the covers and against the desk and in the shower.

Afterwards, after their celebration had ended and they were huddled in bed together, she laced their fingers together. “Where did you get the ring?”

“I told you. Long story.”

She pulled him into a kiss, lips soft and sweet against his. “We do have the rest of our lives together.”

He could only smile at her, bearing both his ring and his child. “We do.”

#n*fw #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices rod #lemon #30 diamond scene #amy writes

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nomadicsurvivor · 5 years

Text

The Meaning of a Date

Day 3 - Dates Just Limit Your Options

I never got the hype of a birthday – what is a date anyway? It’s a man-made concept of time placed into a man-made structure of months, weeks, days, years. The construct is to help humans notate the passing of important moments. The day we were found on the side of the road was named as our “birth date”. Not that it held much meaning to me. Even after I returned to Roswell and was reunited with Max and Isobel, our birthday didn’t really hold any special meaning to me. The three of us would do something together on that day, acknowledge it, but all three of us knew it wasn’t something significant the way it was to other kids, to human kids. And while the Evans would throw Max and Izzy a party, no one really ever acknowledged mine – I never got a party or a card or anything. It wasn’t even until I got back to Roswell that I found out that I was missing out on something.

But my 18th birthday, that changed. Alex had packed a picnic and got me to drive him way out into the desert. It had been a couple months since that day – the tool shed, his dad, Rosa… We had seen very little of each other since then. He had seen me protecting a broken hand at school as we entered finals season. I had seen him protecting his ribs – I could only imagine what colors were under his clothing. We avoided each other for the most part, but would occasionally run into each other at classroom doors, in the hallways, going in or out of Crashdown. So imagine my surprise when, those couple months later, he somehow found where my truck was parked behind the grocery store and dropped a backpack and basket in the back of the truck, climbed into the passenger side, and told me to drive – no hello, nothing – just invited himself into my truck and said “drive.” Which of course I did.

I took up into the back part of the Foster Ranch, occasionally brave enough to glance over at him to watch him look out the passenger window, a small grin on his face as he felt the wind through his hair from the open window. I’d always keep looking at him when he’d glance back, catching his eyes for that split second before I’d force myself to slowly, casually, look back to the space in front of the truck. His make-up was gone, as were the piercings. But he was still exactly how I remembered seeing him over the years, and especially those times recently as we grew closer. I felt a calm come over me when I was with him – something I can’t say I felt too often growing up around humans.

I drove us to where the rocky outcrops come up out of the ground, and stopped the truck in a small patch of shade. As the engine ticked down as it cooled, we both just sat in silence for a couple minutes.

“How have you been? How is your hand?”

“It is what it is I guess.”

He glanced at it, a deep crease of concern across his forehead before looking back out the window.

“Did you go to the doctor? It doesn’t look good.”

I scoffed. “Alex, I am a runaway from CPS. Aside from not having insurance or money, I can’t exactly walk into a hospital and not get reported.”

He looked hurt by that, although I don’t know if it was the slightly patronizing tone I took, or the grim reality of my life and what that meant to something like my hand.

“Where have you been staying? I know you haven’t been back to the tool shed, not that I can blame you. I don’t honestly know what would happ…….”

I took a deep breath. “I’ve been staying around. Crashed a couple nights with Max, otherwise wherever I can park my truck and not be bothered. Out here quite a bit actually. It’s warm at night now that it’s summer.”

He nodded.

“But you’re free now, right?”

I looked over at him confused, “What?”

He smirked and instead of answering, opened the door and climbed out of the truck. He grabbed his stuff from the back of the truck and headed towards the rocks, farther into the shade. I opened my door but didn’t get out of my truck, waiting to see what he was up to.

Alex pulled a blanket out of his backpack and spread it out on the ground, then set the basket down, opened it up and pulled out a bag with the Crashdown logo on it. He then reached back in and pulled out two milkshakes that looked more melted shake than frozen. Then out came a bag of doritos, followed by a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. I chuckled and climbed out, sitting down next to him, looking at him questioningly.

Alex looked a bit embarrassed and chuckled, “OK I had to improvise, and had whatever the 7-11 had to select from with a limited budget.”

I laughed, “Alex, I will NOT be complaining about your food selection.” I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t really had much more to eat than a snickers in the last day or so. “I guess I’m more confused as to what all this is actually about. But again, not complaining!”

Alex pulled cheeseburgers and fries from the Crashdown bag. He pushed one of the burgers towards me.

“When you ran away from home, how long did you have til you turned 18?”

I wasn’t sure where that question was going, and didn’t want to correct him as I so automatically did with Max and Izzy when they’d call a foster placement my home, or say my dad when I’d cut them off with ‘foster father’ or something. Instead, I answered without even thinking about it.

“One year, seven months, sixteen days. Why?”

Alex’s eyes got big as he quickly did math and realised how long I had been living in my truck before he found me behind the bleachers at school that fateful day.

“Wait, you’ve lived out of your truck for over a year and a half?!”

I shrugged, not sure what to say to that. He seemed to collect himself quickly, like he was determined to get himself back on whatever track he had been on before my answer threw him off.

“So now you’re free, right?” He asked this as he pulled a small, thin candle out of the front of the backpack and pushed it into the hamburger bun sitting in front of me. He then pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

“Happy 18th Michael. Make a wish.”

I immediately felt that sting in my eyes and tickle in my nose, but pushed it down, refusing to even let a tear start to form in the corner of an eye. Leave it to Alex Manes to know what this day was to me. It was the first birthday to me that held any significance to me, yet like all the others, went ignored by the rest of the world. Max and Isobel had wished me a happy birthday that morning, but they didn’t say anything about what this day meant to my life. Age eighteen. No longer a ward of the state. CPS no longer had to keep tabs on me, wouldn’t put me in another shit placement where I could be abused, neglected, anything. Completely on my own. Alone.

Leave it to Alex to instead see it as my liberation, my independence day.

I watched the flame for a moment.

“I think, sitting here, I already got my wish. I am getting a meal, and I have you. What else could I ask for?”

Alex blushed and looked down. “Guerin, you’re not supposed to say what your wish is out loud. Now blow the candle out before it ruins your bun and you can’t eat around the wax.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d eat the wax and all if it meant food. I just blew it out. He then reached for a fry and threw it at me. I tried to catch it in my mouth but it bounced off my nose and landed in the sand next to the blanket. I grabbed it, blew the sand off, and tossed it into my mouth.

“Michael that still had sand on it!”

“Hey, waste not, want not.”

He shook his head and passed me a melted milkshake. I paced myself as I ate the burger and fries, trying to play it cool and not give away how hungry I was. In that year and a half, and long before to be honest, I had learned to pace eating. Make it look like you’re not hungry, that it doesn’t matter. It kept adults from looking at you with pity, or with anger. It kept Max and Iz from looking at me like a charity case. But I could see in Alex’s eyes – he saw through it all. He knew. It’s probably why he got all the other snacks.

We ate in silence, both afraid to say something to mess the moment up. Once the slurping sound of straws sucking empty milkshake cups filled the space, we both laughed and stood up. Alex slowly approached me, looking hesitantly at me before raising his arms to take me into an embrace. I returned the gesture quickly, pulling him for a hug, taking comfort in the feeling of him around me again, the smell of his hair, his body wash. I didn’t want to think about what he was smelling from me. But he didn’t seem to care.

Alex looked into my eyes and went in for a kiss, gentle and a bit tentative. The last time we did this, it did not end well for either of us. But we were in my desert, not his tool shed, and his dad was nowhere to be found, so I pushed into his mouth, deepening the kiss. We stumbled back and fell onto the blanket, laughing as we pushed the empty food wrappers out of the way. Hands fumbling, groping, running up and down bodies. Mouths on each other, on necks. Hands in hair, grabbing the back of necks. After a few frantic minutes of us reuniting with the electric emotions of two who had been apart too long, we settled into a more caring pace, frantic touches becoming more caressing, more reverent with each other.

Eventually we pulled apart, both panting, trying to catch our breaths.

Alex looked around, “It’s starting to get dark. We should move to the back of your truck and off the ground.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I don’t think I need to have any scorpions or other critters join us.”

I grabbed the blanket while Alex grabbed the backpack and basket, putting the rest of the snacks back inside. He tossed them into the cab of the truck while I spread my sleeping bag and blanket out, adding his to the back of the truck. He came around to the tail gate where I was sitting, my legs swinging back and forth off the back end. He stilled the movement of my legs and slid between them, leaning forward to capture me in another kiss.

I broke the kiss and started to slide back into the truck, laying down on the blankets, Alex climbing into the truck and following. Lazy kisses turned into a passionate make out session. At some point, shirts came off, as did jeans. In the growing darkness, we jerked each other off, coming together and locking together in a tight embrace. After several minutes of catching our breaths and slowing our heart rates, we cleaned up and put our jeans back on, leaned back against the cab of the truck, Alex leaning against my chest. We sat there for who knows how long, fingers touching each other across our chests, up and down his back or my arms. The stars came out in full force, and soon the glow of the cloud that makes up the Milky Way stood out above us. Who knows how long we sat there.

Maybe some dates mean something more than others. Up to today, they limited my options, kept me at the mercy of whatever control CPS put around my life. But today, this day?

Alex looked up at me before tucking his head back under my chin, leaning against my chest.

“Happy 18th Michael.”

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #malex fic #roswell new mexico fanfic #bit of angst #bit of fluff #michael guerin #alex manes

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