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elysianslove · 3 years

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secret relationship; tsukishima kei, tanaka ryūnosuke, yamamoto taketora

requested by anon(s); their respective teams finding out about their relationships

pairings; tsukishima kei x reader, tanaka ryūnosuke x fem!reader, yamamoto taketora x fem karasuno manager!reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none! (maybe a few curse words)

note; i’m so sorry tsukki’s so much longer than the other two oh my

tsukishima kei

━━ in your defense, neither of you had heard the blaring alarm, and supposedly, no one else in his home had either. after having unintentionally lost track of time with your boyfriend the night prior that it had gotten a little too late for you to head home safely, you’d agreed to kei’s suggestion to spend the night, and fell asleep in his arms. that wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. you couldn’t count on ten fingers the nights you’d spent at his home, waking up with your limbs tangled with his, despite the fact that he insisted cuddling was his least favorite thing to do. missing the alarm is what’s unusual. kei’s not the heaviest of sleepers, evident in the way he nearly tramples you every night, suffocating you to him and restricting your movements. the fact that he hadn’t heard it, and had left to ring annoyingly loud until it gave up was confusing enough.

this wouldn’t pose as much of an issue if it weren’t for your situation. on the contrary, really; you loved nothing more than waking up at the hour you desire, kei still sound asleep by you. he always looked a lot calmer, a lot less tense, his mind a little quieter. his arms were caging you in, giving you enough freedom to tilt your head back and admire him, as his chest rose and fell gently, as his eyes fluttered lightly with the remnants of a dream. in the quiet of his room, you wondered what those golden irises could see.

but of course, a sleepy, fuzzy, lovesick brain wasn’t a luxury for long, and the blurriness began to slip away, just as reality began catching up. your mind began to process the time that the clock that hung opposite you read (too late in the afternoon), then the day of the week (sunday, practice day), then, the cherry on top of the cake — the sound of heavy footsteps, too many footsteps, loud, familiar voices. and finally, the fact that you weren’t supposed to be where you were: in kei’s bed.

you’d encountered his — friends on countless occasions, just never as his significant other. at first, it had left you slightly insecure, wondering if kei was somehow ashamed of you, embarrassed to be tied to you. eventually, however, you’d figured that it hadn’t been shame or embarrassment. he’s just a private person, and if anything, it’s possessiveness: the desire to keep you and all that you are to himself. not that he’d ever have to share once you were exclusive to his teammates, but it’s more that he also wants the idea and thought of you secret. he wants to luxury of calling you his to be private, just something he can enjoy. and maybe you liked the thrill of it too, seeing as you’d agreed, for the time being. you liked the rushed kisses in fear of getting caught, and the secret glances he’d offer you during school hours, and the way he held your hand beneath the table for no one but you to know about. you liked it, and you respected his wishes.

when the footsteps drew closer, you realized just how screwed you are, and it would mean a lot worse for you to be caught slipping away through the window than to be caught in bed, so you lean up, hugging yourself tighter to him, and bring your lips by kei’s ear. shaking him slightly, you whisper, “baby, wake up. the boys are here.”

kei rustles around, blinking slightly, before huffing and wrapping his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently.

you stifle a laugh at his clingy reaction, wishing that this was somehow being recorded. with laughter behind your tone, you repeat your words, shaking him harsher. “kei,” you drawl, whining. “kei, we’re gonna get caught.”

he only mumbles again, breath hot on your neck.

“tsukki! tsukki!”

shit, nishinoya and tanaka were also here?

“kei, baby, you are going to be mortified when you wake up,” you warn, but nonetheless, you continue to hold him to you, bringing a hand up to his hair and sighing. “don’t kick me for trying to warn you.”

the door bursts open, followed by tanaka’s sing-song voice calling out for your boyfriend. he leads the way into the bedroom, head high and eyes closed, as him and three of kei’s teammates march in. he’s oblivious to your head peeking out beneath the crook of kei’s neck, until his eyes open, his hands faltering on his hips as he finally registers your face.

you grin up at him, fingers waving at him in greeting. “hey,” you call out cheekily.

tanaka freezes, head cocking to the side as he’s pushed away while the other three file in. as soon as nishinoya notices you, he clamps his hand over his mouth, his mouth wide with laughter and eyes lost in shock. yamaguchi’s face is tinted red, glance frozen at you, while sugawara, ever the sadist, laughs freely and loudly.

“so this is why he’s late?” tanaka yells in a hushed tone.

sugawara, still laughing, grabs his phone from his jacket’s pocket, switching to the camera app quickly and lifting it up to snap a photo. you throw up a peace sign.

“tsukki, you ass!” nishinoya shouts, leaping quickly onto the bed, forcing you and kei to shift suddenly. “get up, get up, get the fuck up!”

the boy in your arms groans, his eyes still shut tightly as he finally loosens his hold on you, rolling onto his back. a hand is lifted up to his face as he rubs away the sleep in his eyes, while nishinoya positions himself to stand directly above him, feet on either side of his hips as he leans down, peering straight at his face.

kei’s eyes finally open, hand falling to his side in search of yours as it always does, before he looks up, and spots nishinoya sporting the cheekiest of expressions. he sighs in preparation of the teasing to come, and exhales sharply.

“shit.”

sugawara is yet to stop laughing.

tanaka ryūnosuke

━━ “ryu, you’re late to practice.”

the boy in question shushes you quietly, hugging you tighter to him as he whispers out, “five more minutes,” lips brushing against the nape of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. your back is pressed to his bare chest, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you rest a hand on that arm, stroking it gently as you try to wake him up.

with how the boys had been progressing with volleyball, practice hours had increased, and therefore quality time with ryu had decreased. there was a little voice in the back of your head egging him on, urging you to cuddle back into him and let him nuzzle into you more, the part of you that missed him, missed all of him. there was a more logical side of you that knew better, that acknowledged all the work and effort he’d put to get where he is today, and that didn’t want him to miss out any opportunity to grow, or to put all that effort to waste. so you sigh, gripping at his forearm tightly as you try to get away.

“come on, babe,” you whine, attempting desperately to try and get away from him.

“woah, ryu, you got a girl with you or something?”

you freeze. ryu freezes. the world stops.

that had definitely been nishinoya’s voice, there was no doubt about that. and it isn’t like the both of you had kept your relationship a secret from your mutual friends deliberately. it had just never came up in conversation. maybe they were just blind, honestly. there had been no hiding it: you held hands, you hugged him tight after every win, he walked you home after evening practice after school, you hung out during school all the time. so really, it isn’t your fault that no one put two and two together.

you’d just hoped it wouldn’t be in such a comprising situation. you don’t even have pants on.

“holy shit, you do— what the fuck!” your boyfriend’s teammates scream is piercing, and eardrum shattering. you wince at the sound, fingers tightening around ryu’s arm. once nishinoya processes what he’s seen, and who he’s seen, he storms outside of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him, allowing you to listen in on his yells.

somehow, ryu’s still sleeping.

“you guys are not going to believe what i just saw,” you hear nishinoya calling out and — holy shit, was the whole team here? was he really that late to practice?

you manage to break free of ryu’s unrelenting grasp just as the footsteps group by your boyfriend’s bedroom door. they all walk in as you try and fix your bed hair, smiling weakly as one by one, they fill up the room. raising a hand, you sheepishly smile and wave, calling out a low, “morning everyone.”

looking to your left, you find ryu still sleeping. with the way hinata’s bouncing over to where the two of you lay, you doubt it’ll be for long. secret was meant to be outed at some point, wasn’t it?

yamamoto taketora

━━ as you and your team finally arrive at your destination, nekoma high, the bus comes to a stop, parking off to the side. immediately, the boys are jumping from their seats, eager to stretch their limbs and greet their long distance friends. you, kiyoko and yachi take your time in comparison to them, gathering all your things, stretching yourselves out. yachi and kiyoko are first to leave between the three of you, working on keeping your teammates in check and making sure none drift off, while you stay behind, checking in on the bus to make sure nobody left anything behind (which you’re glad you always do, because both hinata and kageyama had forgotten their phones). stepping off the bus, you raise your arms up in a stretch, bones cracking satisfyingly. you squint up at the sun as you sigh, hand coming up to shield yourself from it.

“shōyō, kags!” you call out, walking up to the group of boys huddled around each other, both nekoma and karasuno. “forget anything?” you place their phones in either hand, giving them playfully disapproving looks as they shamefully take it from you, red dusting their cheeks and a low sorry spilling from their lips. your expression twists into a cheerful one, and you wave them off.

as the herd of people begins to move, you plan on following, until you hear your name yelled out loudly, in a very distinct, familiar voice. excitement overtaking you, you turn the other way, dropping your bag to the ground and jumping into the awaiting of your arms of your long distance boyfriend.

“tora baby, i missed you!” you squeal, arms wrapping tight around his neck and legs around his waist, ankles hooked as he rocks you from side to side. he hugs you with just as much earnest, burying his face in your neck gratefully.

he hums by your ear, pressing a wet kiss to your neck as he says, “missed you more. more than you could ever imagine.”

you chuckle lightly to yourself, lifting your head up and leaning back to glance at him. “sap,” you tease, tilting your head closer.

“hey, you were the one that jumped into my arms,” he argues.

you quirk an eyebrow. “you were the one that yelled out my name and ran at me,” you retort. “like we’re in some sort of rom-com.” you’re rolling your eyes, but your heart’s beating unsteadily at the way he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. unwilling to continue your banter, having missed him, and missed kissing him too much to do so, you lift a hand to the nape of his neck and push his lips closer to yours, finally kissing him properly.

you’re not able to enjoy it for long, feeling a hand grab at the collar of your jacket on the back of your neck. it pulls at you until you break from the kiss, until you’re forced out of your boyfriend’s arms, and stumbling onto the ground back on your feet.

“have some decorum, manager,” daichi teases, and you roll your eyes, reaching out again for taketora.

he takes you into his arms easily, letting you rest your head on his chest, and wrapping your arms around his waist. “he’s just jealous that we’re in love,” he jokes, and you huff out a laugh, allowing him to steer you away from the small crowd, and towards the gym, leaving your boys and his teammates behind.

“am i the only one that’s like, shocked?” ennoshita breaks the silence.

“really? i’m more heartbroken,” nishinoya joins in, earning a smack from daichi.

tanaka breathes in steadily. “kiyoko-san, please don’t be next,” he pleads.

“tanaka-san, please stop being dramatic.”

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #yamamoto x reader #yamamoto taketora x reader

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skiesofthesketchy · 3 years

Note

36, 60, and 71, if you can combine prompts for one request! was thinking like an accident happens, and jj’s freaking out, but there’s a happy ending obviously. If you only want 1 prompt, let’s go with 60 :)

congrats on 1k lovely!! you deserve it, and keep up all your amazing work ❤️

thanks for the request!! i kinda went in a different direction but i hope you like this! :)

masterlist

1k celebration blurbs

60. So I accidentally told her that I loved her. What do I do?

71. I didn't know how to tell you [before].

***

“Shit, shit, shit,” JJ murmured under his breath. His thoughts were running wild but he couldn’t process a single one of them. The confident and easy-going pogue had turned into a nervous mess, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

“JB, you better fucking answer,” he panted into his cellphone that was pressed to his face. He waited impatiently as he heard the ringing in his ear, all while basically running in the direction of the Chateau.

Right as JJ was about to hang up and try again, his best friend John B. finally picked up.

“Hey, what’s up, man? Are you coming by later? Pope and Kie are already here and we got the beer--”

“JB, I fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.”

“Woah, JJ, relax. What happened?” John B. immediately had a thousand different ideas of the trouble his friend could be in and ultimately assumed the worst. He had stopped everything to listen intently to JJ on the phone.

JJ sighed, still feeling like he wasn’t in complete control of his body. “JJ. What is it?” John B. asked again. He was getting more scared by the second about what could possibly be wrong. Did JJ do something to his dad? Is he running from the cops again?

“I accidentally told her that I love her. What the fuck do I do?” His tone was desperate, eyebrows creased in worry. He needed his best friend to tell him what to do.

JJ was a quick thinker, always able to escape trouble when he needed to. But this was different. Years of friendship out the window. He was convinced he had just ruined everything and that you would never want to see him again.

John B., of course, knew exactly who JJ was referring to. JJ only ever had feelings for you. Even with the string of random girls coming and leaving JJ’s bedroom, nobody compared to you.

Much to JJ’s dismay, he could hear his friend’s booming laughter through the phone. “Hey man, that’s great! Good for you,” John B. laughed. He was relieved that it wasn’t something actually bad, and was thankful JJ’s situation was amusing instead.

“It’s not great, and it’s definitely not funny,” JJ grumbled. “Can you be serious for a second? My life just blew up in my face and it’s my own damn fault.”

“Hey, seriously, you need to relax. Did she actually reject you?” John B. asked carefully.

“She would have if I would’ve stuck around to hear it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I ran away, okay?!” JJ yelled. “I got the hell out of there before she could even say anything.” Yep, he wanted to punch himself in the face for that. But he didn’t mean to spill his feelings all over you. It was all just a huge mistake.

It was something that couldn’t be helped, though. There you were, standing on the beach looking as beautiful as always. Your hair blew softly in the breeze as the golden sun gave your figure a gracious glow. The sight of you was enough to knock the air right out of JJ’s lungs.

Your smile lit up your pretty face as you told your good friend JJ all about the guy you were going on a date with tonight. The handsome stranger had been charming, and you had to admit you were a bit smitten. Not many guys have had the courage to walk up to you to ask you out.

JJ could tell you were excited, but a burning jealousy seeped into his bones. He willed himself to keep his mouth shut, but JJ had never been the best at self-control.

“I don’t think you should go out with this guy,” he said.

You looked at him confused. “Why not?”

He sighed, already kicking himself for speaking up. “Y/N, you don’t know him. He could be a murderer. He could be an asshole just wanting to get laid.” He was prepared to go on, but you cut him off.

“JJ, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” You couldn’t read him. You were used to JJ being protective, but he was acting strange. You could tell something else was on his mind but you couldn’t even begin to guess what it was. He couldn’t even look at you.

You grabbed a hold of his hand so that he would look back at you, finding his bright blue eyes clouded in anger? Disappointment? “What is this about?”

“What about for me? Would you ditch this guy for me?” Oh god, he’s already said too much, but it’s too late now. His gaze was fixed on you as you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“I don’t understand...”

“What if I told you I was in love with you?” It felt like the whole world stopped as he waited for your reaction. “Would you ditch him then?”

You didn’t think you heard him right. Did he just say he’s in love with you!? No, you must have water in your ears or something.

The short silence from you was the only answer he needed. With a nod and a frown, he tore himself away from you. “Just forget it,” he grumbled, already marching away.

“JJ, wait!” you called after him. He was already running from the situation and you hardly even had two seconds to process it all. “JJ!”

He didn’t listen to you and continued fleeing as fast as possible, wondering what the hell he had done.

That brings us back to the present. JJ had finally made it to the Chateau. John B. had filled Pope, Kie, and Sarah in on the situation, making JJ’s ears and face burn in embarrassment. At the same time though, he didn’t care what any of them thought. He only cared about you.

What were you calling after him for? What would you have said if JJ hadn’t run away? Do you want him out of your life because he made things weird?? Are you about to fall madly in love with this stupid guy you’re going out with right now???

“JJ, it’s okay. Come sit down and chill,” Kie brought JJ out of his wild imagination for a brief moment. It felt as if his heart was still beating much faster than it should. He felt restless but also like there was nothing he could do to fix any of it.

He only sat down in the hammock because Kiara had dragged him there. JJ felt like he was in a daze, not really paying attention to the world outside of his mind. Pope had handed him a beer and JJ gulped half of it down without even thinking about it. Conversation started up around him but he didn’t hear anything... until someone said your name.

“Oh look, Y/N’s here,” John B. announced, shoving JJ’s shoulder. “And she looks pissed.” JJ whipped his head around quickly and sure enough, there you were, beautiful as always, but fuming and marching right toward him.

“What the fuck, JJ?!” you yelled, making it obvious that you were about to either chew him out or kick his ass.

“Good luck, bud,” John B. whispered to JJ, chuckling under his breath.

“Fuck you,” JJ replied as he watched everyone go inside, leaving him alone to face your wrath. He didn’t know what the fuck to do, how to fix the mistake he made, how to make things not weird between you guys, but holy shit, he didn’t expect that you’d be so angry.

It was like he was watching you in slow motion, feeling every one of your stomps on the ground as you approached him, eyes ablaze and lips pulled into a frown. “What was that back there?” you finally asked, now standing right in front of the boy who looked scared shitless.

“I-- I know, Y/N. I’m sorry! It was a mistake--” he tried to explain rather desperately, but you cut him off.

“You can’t just dump all of that on me and then run away!” JJ finally stood up from the hammock and now towered over you, reaching for your arms without even thinking about it, wanting to make you feel calm.

“I don’t know why I said any of that! It was an accident! I'm sorry, we can talk about this--” You interrupted him yet again, but this time by launching yourself forward and crashing your lips to his.

With hands cradling his jaw, you did your best to put all of your emotions into the kiss, the one kiss that could change everything. JJ was more than surprised, freezing as you pulled him in closer, but within two seconds had relaxed and gave in-- he'd be an idiot not to. His hands fell to your waist and pulled you flush against him as his lips finally matched your ferver.

You don’t even know why you got so angry. Perhaps it was because the man you had loved since forever had told you he shared the same feelings, but then left before you could make the same confession, freeing yourself from years of secrecy. You didn’t want to hide it anymore. You needed to be sure he felt the same, like he said he did.

It almost didn’t matter now, as you poured every bit of passion you had into someone you called your best friend. He smiled against your lips, bringing his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the mind-blowing kiss. His mind was in a daze as his senses became clouded by you. In this moment, he had no doubts of his feelings for you. He was undeniably in love with you and couldn’t do a single thing to change that.

You had allowed yourself to get lost in him, but in a split second you were pulling away, not able to pull too far with JJ’s arms wrapped around you. His eyes trapped you in his gaze as you both took a moment to catch your breaths. You didn’t want to come down from the high you were experiencing, but you had to ask...

“Did you mean it?”

His brows furrowed wondering what you meant before it clicked. “Every word,” he said, only confidence and honesty in his voice. After that kiss, he wasn’t scared anymore. In fact, he felt fucking fearless. “I didn’t know how to tell you before.”

“Well, I'm glad you did,” you replied with a smile, dragging your fingers through his locks of hair before kissing him once more. The sounds of loud cheering made you pull away much sooner than either of you would have liked.

The pogues were watching from the window, cheering and making dumb kissy faces at you guys. JJ promptly flipped them off while you laughed, then he turned so that he was shielding you from the prying eyes of your friends. He loved the sound of your joyous laugh accompanied by your radiant smile.

“Next time you just wanna kiss me, can you not come over looking like you wanna kill me?” he asked, and you laughed with heat flooding your face. “Very mixed signals. I was scared for my life!” he added with a chuckle.

“Oh, shut up. I had a right to be mad at you!”

“But not anymore, right?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him before throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again. You could definitely get used to this.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled against his lips. “You’re lucky I love you too.” He grinned, feeling higher than the clouds now that you finally said the words he was dying to hear.

He picked you up and spun you before kissing you again. “The luckiest in the world.”

***

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

We’re Us

A little commishy for my bxtch @thinger-strang.

Read on Ao3

This shit is SOFT

“Dustin, we all saw that fireball hit you,” Will said accusatorily, gesturing to the red bean bag on the ground at Dustin’s feet.

“Okay, first of all, you’re supposed to call a pause of play before using my real name,” Dustin said, all in one breath. “And second of all, the fireball only hit my lute, therefore I sustained no physical damage.” Dustin gestured to the cereal box that was taped to a jump rope, slung over his shoulder like it was a prized instrument.

“No, it didn’t. We all saw it hit your shoulder. You’d lose that arm at least, and take probably, like, fifty damage points.” Lucas pretended to aim a bow and arrow at Dustin while he spoke.

Dustin was getting dangerously close to huffy territory.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll take the stupid damage points. Can we resume play yet?”

Everyone nodded, and they fell right back into battle.

It wasn’t often they took the game off the DnD board, but the weather was perfect, summer beginning to make itself known a little earlier than usual, giving them April days that were clear and perfect and made for the best LARP sessions known to Indiana.

Will aimed a fireball at Max, and launched it right as she darted out of the way. It sailed past her, missing her left hand by less than an inch, and she laughed wildly, raising her pool noodle sword and aiming blow after blow at him.

The bean bag hit the fence and went spiraling awkwardly into the small alley between the house and the old wooden fence

It was Will’s last fireball, and he hurried to retrieve any he could reach, dodging as best as he could around Max’s wild sword-wielding.

She tended to wallop them as hard as she could, somehow knocking the wind out of them with her soft excuse for a sword.

Will scrambled to pick up his bean bag from the overgrown grass and curling weeds, catching his breath quickly in the alley where he couldn’t be seen.

And then a sound drew his attention away from the battle.

It was a soft sound. He wouldn’t have heard it if the rest of the party had been so quietly focused on battling one another less than twenty feet away.

But he did hear it, and his head whipped around to find the source of it.

Steve and Billy.

Against the house.

Kissing.

It was like time stood still.

Like Will had been hit by one of Mage El’s freezing bombs.

Steve had Billy pushed up against the side of the house, their bodies pressed flush together.

Steve was clearly propping up Billy with his body, Billy’s mobility cane, the one he had let them cover in stickers, was laying forgotten on the ground.

Billy’s arms were wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, his hands curled in the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. Steve had his arms wrapped around Billy’s waist, half holding him close, half not letting him fall without his cane.

They were kissing like they were trying to devour one another, and Will realized that the sound he had heard was a moan.

It wasn’t like seeing Lucas and Max kiss, or Mike or El, or even Nancy and Jonathan.

Seeing Billy and Steve,

Will knew he shouldn’t be seeing them.

He knew this was wrong, and people said two boys kissing was foul and bad.

But this didn’t look anything but, well, loving.

The way Steve was making sure Billy didn’t fall while they kissed, the way sometimes they would pull back and smile, their faces never moving more than a few inches away from one another.

One of Billy’s rough hands left its place clawed in Steve’s t-shirt, reaching forward to brush one thumb clumsily down his cheek.

They pulled back from one another, smiling stupidly, still staring into each other’s eyes.

Billy brushed his thumb down Steve’s cheek again, and Steve moved like he was nuzzling into the touch, turning his head to the right, pressing a kiss to Billy’s rough, scarred palm.

It made Will feel like he was floating in space with nothing keeping him down.

Steve pressed a kiss to Billy’s cheek, then his nose, then his other cheek, and Billy’s cheeks flushed and he giggled, a sound that was so foreign to Billy Hargrove it almost made Will rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing the right person.

And Billy smiled, so calmly and easily.

It made his whole face change. He looked like a completely different person.

And Will realized, he’s never actually seen Billy smile like this.

The only times he’d come close, we tight tiny things that never reached his eyes and were dropped within a second or two.

This was a genuine smile, full of genuine happiness, and god -

They’re in love.

They’re two boys, and they’re standing right in front of Will and they’re in love.

They went back to kissing, moving their heads slowly side to side, their mouths opening and closing and Will was so aware of having never kissed anyone before.

“Will, seriously! I’ve been yelling for you-”

Mike stopped talking the second he rounded the house.

He was stalk still, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish at what he saw.

Will’s heart was thundering against his ribcage, and he tried to push Mike back towards the game, pleading quietly at him to move.

And then the rest of the group was joining them. Faces mirroring Mike’s dead fish expression as they stared, open-mouthed, at Steve and Billy.

Will had his back to them, but in the quiet, he could hear. He could hear the soft sounds and the moans, and even the giggles that made his face go hot and his stomach do a whole gymnastics routine inside of him.

Will was staring at each of his friends in turn, pleading with them to just turn right around, and continue on with play as nothing had ever interrupted their battle.

Like they haven’t just stumbled on a huge and dangerous secret.

He went as far as to push Lucas, gently shoving him backward saying go! Go! Under his breath.

The last thing he needed was for Steve and Billy to notice them here. To realize what they had seen. What they know.

And then-

“What the fuck?”

Billy and Steve broke apart, looking towards the entrance of the alley, and seeing all six of the party, staring at them.

Max had been the one to speak, and she was looking at Billy oddly, almost like she didn’t know who he was.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, her voice quavering slightly.

Billy looked like he wanted to ground to swallow him right up.

Steve scrambled for the forgotten cane, keeping one hand on Billy’s elbow as he crouched down.

The movement made Will’s stomach flop over.

It was practiced.

Once Billy was standing on his own with the cane, Steve approached the kids calmly, his hands raised up like they were all wild animals that might attack at any moment.

“Look, I know how this looks, and you guys can’t-”

“It looks like, you guys were making out .” Dustin’s tone was hollow, and he looked as struck dumb as the rest of them.

“I know, and I mean, yeah. We were, but you need to listen -”

“Steve.”

Steve whipped right around when he heard the murmur.

Billy was standing slumped over against the house, one scarred, shaking hand covering his face, the other clutched so tightly to his cane his knuckles were white.

“Bill, I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.” Steve rushed to Billy’s side, holding onto his elbow again, brushing his fingers softly through Billy’s short hair, winding his fingers through the wild curls that were just long enough to form. “I’ll deal with this. It’s okay. They’re not going to tell.” Steve glared at the kids when he said that, as if daring them to argue.

Billy kinda, fell forward, leaning against Steve once again, his face going into Steve’s neck.

Steve didn’t react, still brushing his fingers through sandy blond curls.

“You all know what could happen to us if people found out?”

Nobody answered him.

Truth is, they did know.

They knew the stories about young men being beaten nearly to death. Being run out of town or put in the hospital over nothing but a rumor.

Being gay wasn’t something that was tolerated in Hawkins.

Hell, Will himself has been pushed around and called queer as long as he could remember.

Even by his own father.

“We won’t tell anyone.” Will felt like how Billy looked. Like he was shaking apart right in front of them. “I promise. We won’t. Not anyone.” He could barely get the words out. It was like his jaw had locked up with the rest of his bones.

He thinks it would kill him if anything happened to Billy and Steve over this. They needed to keep them safe.

He needed to keep them safe.

“Yeah. I promise,” El parroted. Steve beamed at them.

Will knew El had been very confused the first time she heard about Ryan Anderson, the high school sophomore that had been humiliated and beaten so badly his family had to leave town six years ago.

She didn’t understand how a boy that liked to kiss other boys was something that merited violence.

Hopper had surprised them all by saying that it didn’t, but some people felt like it did.

Who you kiss doesn’t matter as much as who you are. If you’re a good person, it’s all just extra fodder. But some people like to they’re better than anyone that’s different than they are.

El had called those people bad and that was the end of it.

“Billy, I won’t tell.” Max didn’t take her eyes off Billy while she spoke. “I swear. I’ll never tell anyone. Not even mom.”

Billy’s hand flexed on the handle of the cane, and his knees gave a wobble. Steve kept him upright, leaning over to murmur into his ear.

Will could just barely make out the words I’ve got you.

“I promise, too.” Dustin’s cereal box/lute was forgotten on the grass at his feet. “The party protects each other. It’s one of our laws.”

“Yeah, we stick together. This isn’t different.” Max gave Lucas a watery smile when he spoke up in turn.

Mike was quiet.

It was well-known how much he disliked both Steve and Billy.

All of the kids had some trouble trusting Billy after everything that had happened last summer. Billy didn’t seem to blame them. He kept to himself, even when he moved from his cold room in the military hospital into the Byers’ spare bedroom seven months ago, he was like a ghost moving through the house.

Only Steve could make him come out of his shell in those early days. Only Steve could make Billy join them for dinner and movie nights, take slow walks around the yard with his walker, and later with his cane. Only Steve could make Billy’s shoulders relax from their defensive position up around his ears, and now, it was finally dawning on everyone why.

The kids mostly left him alone, only Max and El bridging the gap and actually speaking to him. Max had been determined to see Billy through his recovery, glaring at him and watching like a ginger hawk while he did his physical therapy, practicing his grip and moving buttons from one bowl to another.

El would sometimes talk to Billy in a hushed voice. She would get him on his own and hush words like Papa and Mama and bad and Billy would have to retreat to his bedroom for slowly decreasing amounts of time.

Nobody but Joyce and Hopper knew what she saw in Billy’s head. They were just informed that he wouldn't be returning home after his two-month stint in the military hospital. Max hard clenched her jaw and nodded jerkily and nobody dared ask any further questions.

He and Will traded a lot of good mornings and tended to generally avoid eye contact when they came across one another in the house.

But none of them hated him, they were just a little weary.

Mike, on the other hand, had some unexplained vendetta against both Billy and Steve and Will found himself willing Mike to be kind in this moment. To not see this as some power over them, or something.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Dustin’s right. We protect each other.”

Steve gave them a smile that was so dazzling and bright, it almost gave off its own light.

His eyes were shining and he gave a watery laugh.

“They really meant it when they said children are the future.”

“Who said?” El asked him.

“I don’t know, actually. Just people, I guess.” Steve shrugged, jostling Billy who was still nestled in his shoulder. “Look, seriously guys, thank you. I can’t even imagine how I would’ve felt if-nevermind.” He cut himself off quickly, shaking his head. “It just means a lot. To both of us.” Steve smiled at them one last time, this time much softer and thoughtful. “You’re good kids.”

Nobody said anything else. They didn’t know what to say to Steve.

“I came back here to get my fireballs. I, uh, I got ‘em.”

Everyone looked back at Will, and, almost like they were coming out of a trance, began picking their makeshift weapons back off the grass, and chattering idly as they went back to the yard in order to continue their battle.

Will lingered for a second, looking over his shoulder at Steve and Billy, who were still wound together.

They were talking softly, and Will was pleased to see Billy lift his head back up, still looking pale and nervous, but smiling at Steve.

He leaned back down and planted a kiss on Steve’s neck, right above the edge of his t-shirt.

Will felt his face go hot, and tugged himself away, going back to the game.

It wasn’t until well after dinner, when everyone else had gone home, that they spoke about it again.

Will. Will! Do you copy? Over.

The static rasping of Mike’s voice through the walkie-talkie was coming from under Will’s bed where he had stashed it.

He quickly turned down the volume dial on the side before answering.

“Yeah, Mike. I copy. Over.”

“We need to talk about today,” Mike said through the walkie. “I mean, did you have any idea? Over.”

“No. I didn’t,” Will said, truthfully. Finding out had made a lot of things clunk into place, but that doesn’t mean Will knew. “Over.”

“It’s just, neither of them seem the type. You know? Over.”

Something about that statement didn’t sit too right with Will.

Before he could respond another voice crackled through the channel.

“This is gold leader joining the conversation to let Mike know he’s being a dick. Over.”

Will laughed. Trust Dustin to listen in on the conversation and come forward to defend Steve.

“Lucas, do you copy, too? Over.” Will waited a moment after he asked.

“Yeah, I copy. I wanted to hear what you all were saying first. I don’t really know what to think about all this. Over.”

“I don’t think there’s much to think about. Steve seems happy. Billy too, I guess. Over,” said Dustin.

Will’s heart swelled with a pride he didn’t quite understand at Dustin’s words.

Outside in the hall, the phone rang.

Will heard his mom scramble to pick it up, calling softly down the hall for Billy, and the unmistakable thumping of Billy and his cane coming to take the call.

He heard his mom scrape a chair over for him and retreat to her room, giving him some privacy.

“It’s just scary, you know? Like, something really bad could happen to them if anyone else found out.” Will thought for a second. “You think anyone else knows? Over.”

“Robin. She was making comments to Steve a few days ago about his secret relationship and I kept asking him about it until he punched me in the arm. She knows. Over.”

“I’m just confused,” Mike sighed down the line. “Steve dated my sister for like, a year. And Billy is always disgusting and flirting with my mom. Or at least, he would do that. You know, before. Over.”

“Yeah, that’s just Billy being Billy,” Max chimed in.

“You have to say over when you’re finished. Over.”

“ Fine, dickheads. Over.”

“That makes sense, but Steve and Nancy doesn’t. Over.”

“Lucas, it doesn’t have to make sense. David Bowie says he likes guys and girls. Billy has, like, three different magazines where he says that. Over.”

“Max is right. We don’t have to understand any of this. They seem happy, and good together, and that doesn’t really concern us. Over.” Will was hoping he could speed through the rest of this conversation. He could hear Billy in the hall, shifting and murmuring something Will couldn’t make out but was dying to overhear.

He had a feeling he knew who was calling.

“But, now it does concern us. We know. And as we’ve previously established, the more people that know, the more danger they could be in. Over .” Dustin almost sounded as though he might cry.

“Then, we can’t talk about it. Not unless we know for a fact that we aren’t going to be overheard. And maybe we should give them codenames. Only call them something like Han and Leia when there’s a chance of someone listening in. Over.”

“I like Lucas’s codename idea, but I’d rather die than call them Han and Leia. Over.”

“Okay, Mike, it was the first thing that came into my head! What, you think you have a better idea? Over.”

“I don’t know. Harold and Maude? Over.”

“That’s stupid, Mike. Clearly, they’re Bert and Ernie. Over.”

Will snorted at Max’s suggestion. He heard Billy coughing wildly in the hall. He listened carefully to him until it died down and he knew it wasn’t a bad one.

“I think we’ve come to an agreement. If we need further discussion, codenames: Bert and Ernie. Okay, my mom wants me to spend time with her tonight. So this is gold leader, signing off. Over and out.”

“I’m going too. Over and out,” Mike said.

“Over and out,” said El, not surprising any of them that she was listening in. She did that a lot. Simply listen to her own walkie, and when asked why she didn’t say anything would shrug and go nothing to add. They only asked that she sign off so that they knew she got whatever information they had discussed.

Everyone followed with their own sign-offs, and Will twisted the top knob on his walkie, shutting it off.

There was a moment of silence out in the hall, and then three beats on Will’s door.

He found Billy on the other side, slumped in the chair under the phone, his cheeks going red.

“Can’t get up,” he grunted. “Can’t reach the hook.”

Will didn’t say anything, nodding quickly and avoiding eye contact as he took the phone, placing it carefully back on the hook.

Billy got stuck in chairs fairly often.

His core muscles had been slashed up worse than anything else, and sometimes he just needed a good pull up.

Will took hold of his wrist, leaning his body weight backward to yank Billy to standing.

Billy kept his weight heavily on his cane, patting Will once on the upper arm in thanks.

“You guys know Steve has one of your little walkie-talkies, right?”

“ What ?”

Will genuinely didn’t know that.

“Dustin gave him one. I don’t know when, but he’s got it.”

“So, uh, so he heard. Everything.”

“And relayed it all to me through an embarrassing amount of tears, by the sounds of it.”

But Will could see that Billy’s eyes were brighter than usual in the dark, and suddenly Will remembered that there had been a wet spot on Billy’s sleeve.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, well, you’re good kids. All of you.” Billy patted him on the shoulder again. “I was shitting myself out there when you found us. Thought for sure one a’ yous would go squealing.”

“Maybe we would’ve. Before.”

“Never thought I’d be grateful for nearly being turned inside-out.”

“And I never thought I’d be grateful for being found dead in the water, but here we are.”

“Yeah, shit’s pretty weird if you stop and think about it for a few minutes. Near-death experiences really put your sexuality in perspective.”

“Is that why you two started dating? Perspective?”

Billy huffed a breath, looking up towards the ceiling. He coughed twice, and Will could pretty much hear his lungs rattle and crackle.

“Yeah. ‘S why we started dating. Both of us kinda realized there’s no sense in feeling like shit about the things that can actually make you feel not like shit.”

“So, you’re in love? Both of you?”

Billy’s cheeks were flooded with color, the deep red spreading all the way back to the tips of his ears.

“I think so. We’re both a little too fucked in the head to say it, but,” he shrugged lamely, not bothering to finish his thought, and looking anywhere but at Will.

He gets it, though.

Fucked up parents make for fucked up kids.

Will considered himself the luckiest person on Earth, and any kinda parallel universe, that he had his mom to stop, and later heal, all the damage his dad had caused.

“Well, I’m glad that you have it. Both of you. I mean, we saw you guys. And after everything, it's good that you’re happy.” And Will meant it.

Even before last summer, he had never seen Billy look the way he did when he was kissing Steve. Look that calm, and relaxed, and that goddamn happy. It really meant something.

Especially to Will.

Because he had never thought of someone looking that happy when they kissed someone else.

He had never thought of a boy looking that happy when he kissed another boy.

Billy surveyed Will for a moment, still leaning heavily on his cane in the hallway.

Will had the suspicion that Billy could see right through him.

“He came to visit me a lot when I was in the hospital. Steve, I mean. I don’t know why he did. It’s not like we were friends or anything. But one of those days, when I was barely awake he started talking about everything that happened those couple days.” Billy shifted closer to the wall, bracing himself with one hand as he lowered himself back into the chair. “The Russians. I don’t know what he’s told you kids, but it wasn’t pretty.”

“He hasn’t said anything. I mean, we all saw how he looked after, so we figured maybe he got in a fight.”

Billy chewed on his bottom lip.

“Look, you gotta swear not to tell any of the others this, but, uh, it was a bit more than a fight.”

Billy was giving him a meaningful look and something churned around in Will’s stomach.

“Torture?”

Billy gave a tiny, shaky nod.

“He started talking about it. Said after that, he started thinkin’ about shit different. Said he thought he was gonna die down there and that nothing would change without him. It was heavy, and I was mostly feeling the same way, and I think that’s why he told me. Knew that I could get it. After that he kept visiting, and I noticed that I didn’t hurt as much when he was there. Or maybe I did, but having him there, squinting at the t.v. ‘cause he can’t see worth a’ shit, or making some stupid comment about a nurse on the floor just made it easier. He makes a lotta shit easier.”

“I think that’s what it should be like. I don’t think love should make things harder.” Will thought of his mom and dad, and how different she acted with Hopper.

Like she didn’t hurt as much when he was there.

“It was hard in the beginning. I mean, before we got together. I thought that he didn’t feel the same way, you know? That I was just being an idiot, feeling like that for my best friend. But then he told me. He’s always been a lot braver than people give him credit for. Anyway, he told me, and it should’ve been fucking terrifying. And I was scared of people finding out. Still am, but it’s like, even if we get run outta town, and everyone we care about turns against us, it’ll be fine because we’re not just me an’ him, we’re us .”

Billy blinked quickly, almost as if he was surprised by his own words.

They clanged around in Will’s head.

We’re not just me an’ him, we’re us.

“You don’t have to be scared, though. I mean, of people finding out. Of turning against you both. We won’t let that happen. Not about something like this.”

Billy gave him a weak smile.

“I guess it makes sense. I mean, you all took me in after killing half the town. Tracks that you wouldn’t throw me out for. Being gay.”

“There are worse things to be than gay.”

“Psycho killer not one of them?”

Will gave Billy as unimpressed of a stare as he could muster.

“That wasn’t you. You forget, I know what it was like to have him controlling me. I know what it’s like to not do anything to stop him, even when you are fighting with everything you’ve got. I nearly killed my mom. I even might have, if I’d been stronger. You fought against him, and in the end, you won. I never could’ve done that.”

Billy just stared at the wall slightly above Will’s left shoulder.

“I killed people, too. When he had me. Led a whole group of people right into a trap. And it still scares me what he did. But I know that it wasn’t me that did it. It wasn’t you that did any of that, Billy.”

“I tell myself that. Hell, Steve tells me that about every five minutes. Just hard to watch yourself doing that awful shit and not be able to tell your body to knock it off.”

Will didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

Billy was right. It was a nightmare watching yourself hurt people around you, feeling like you were in the backseat, screaming at yourself to stop.

But Billy had done what Will couldn’t’ve.

Right at that last moment, he stood up to the thing controlling his every move.

Stood up to that horrific flesh monster, adn died rather than let it kill El.

El, who he didn’t even know.

And then Billy’s bedroom door down the hall opened slowly, and Steve poked his head into the hall, swearing under his breath when he saw someone in the hall with Billy and trying to duck out of sight, knocking the back of his head into the doorframe and swearing again.

Billy laughed, a low wheezy laugh that ended in a short coughing fit.

“Real fuckin’ subtle, Harrington,” he choked out.

The door opened once more and Steve stepped out into the hallway, trying to look casual.

“I didn’t realize it was you there, Will. How’s it goin’?”

Billy laughed again, and gestured for Steve to come and help him stand up.

Steve did so quickly, smiling warmly at Billy when he had righted him on his feet, and keeping hold of Billy’s arm.

“Why are you sneakin’ in my window like some kinda perv?”

“Because I wanted to talk. I have a lot of emotions today.” Steve turned to address Will. “You kids are gonna be the death of me. And I mean that in the nicest way I possibly can.”

“Yeah, well. You guys are family.” Will shrugged, feeling very awkward when both Steve and Billy. Looked as though their eyes were overbright. Will panicked, trying to think of an exit strategy before he saw either of them cry.

He had seen them both in too many intimate moments today.

“Um, I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m gonna go to bed. Let me know if you need, uh, help tomorrow. You know, heading of my mom or anything.”

Will turned on his heel and slipped back into his own bedroom.

“Alright, Bert. It’s been a long day and I’m gonna need some help getting into bed. My legs have gone totally stiff.”

“Oh, in no way am I Bert! I’m totally Ernie. You’re Bert. Think about it: you’re surly, and rude, and-”

“Gonna dump you if you don’t shut up and help me go to bed.”

“Spoken like a true Bert.”

#the big schmoop #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #i thinkg this was for #harringrove for palestine #but i really can't remember #idk merlin donated some money somehweere and i wrote this 💕

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machinegunbun · 3 years

Text

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

#mgbrecommends #mgk #mgk smut #mgk fic #mgk blurb #colson baker concept #colson baker blurb #colson baker smut #submission

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domesticmail · 3 years

Text

happy new year || vince dunn

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy new year to everyone!!! i hope you’re all ringing in this year with love & kindness! this is a fic for @hockeynetwork ‘s fic exchange, particularly for @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys !!

i think you’re officially the last fic recipient of 2020, so congratulations!! i hope you like the fic <33

lots of thanks to @makarsy for beta-ing this for me!! <3

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: dysfunctional family, divorce, alcohol !

SUMMARY: going back to your hometown to visit your family for the holidays is supposed to be fun. accidentally running into your childhood best friend is supposed to be nostalgic. love is supposed to have a happy ending. nothing disappoints more than high expectations.

She’d hung the mistletoe right under the hallway arch. The gray-green leaves, attached to stems that seemed to sink with the gravity, dangled from the red ribbon holding them together, tied to a hook hanging from the highest point of the arch. Small berries, white in color, caught your eye as you stood, frozen, in the living room.

The familiar feeling of dread and terror floods your veins. Your chest begins to freeze over as your heart picks up pace. It’s like someone lit a bonfire in the middle of a glacier, and it’s melting you. If you were a little less aware, you’d think you were sinking to your knees, weakness invading and settling deep in the bones of your legs like the mere memory of him saps you of all your willpower.

There’s a strange floating feeling in the gravity you feel. It’s like you’re being pulled up and down simultaneously, and for a moment you feel so confused, and it scares you, this feeling of anxiety and fear.

A familiar hand settles on your shoulder, pulling you out of the spiral. “I thought maybe it’d be a...cute little touch.” From the way the deep voice is straining to hit a higher octave, you’re guessing it’s your brother, mimicking your mom.

You turn, and you’re right. He’s rolling his eyes, saying some smartass comment or another. Something about how she has no regard for anyone but herself. You nod noncommittally as he downs a glass of champagne. You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should pace yourself? It’s just more fuel for Aunt Cindy.”

“Y/N, I’ve never cared about what she thinks, and I sure as hell am not gonna start now.”

You shrug as he looks you up and down. Your shitty christmas sweater is the only one you own, but it’s the perfect mixture of funny and definitely going to offend Mom. It’s a knitted, ugly green, and the front has Jesus with a party blower in his mouth. He’s wearing a birthday hat, one of the pointy cone ones, and is holding a white, circular balloon that has “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” written on it in red. He’s wearing a shirt that says “BIRTHDAY BOY”.

She nearly had a heart attack when she saw you wearing it last week. The mistletoe, then, is payback, presumably.

“Danny?”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Are you getting more champagne?” You ask. He nods. “I want some too,” you sigh, joining him at the kitchen island. He smiles conspiratorially.

While he pours you a glass, you inquire about his life. You don’t see each other often, with you up in New York and him traveling over 300 days out of the year. “It’s a miracle you’re even here,” you joke.

Danny snorts, taking a sip of his own drink. “Couldn’t miss another family event, especially not since last month.”

Last month was his 10-year anniversary of joining the Bureau, a week after he turned 33. Your mother’s pride and joy, she’d gone all out, and had been infuriated when an hour into the party he’d been called to the office. And even while she was annoyed with his duties, she still took the time to go out of her way and inform both you and your sister, Jo, that “at least he has an important job.”

You laugh. “She was pissed.”

“Yeah, she called me later that day.”

“She called you? While you were at work?”

“Do you think she has any respect for my time?”

You raised your eyebrows, eyes wide in shock. “How can she possibly be so….not self-aware?”

“I have no clue.”

As though summoned by the mention of your mother, Jo enters the room, long blonde hair a mess around her face, red and puffy. She takes the spot next to you, grabs your champagne glass, and downs it.

“Hi, Jo,” you and Danny say in unison, neither of you surprised.

“Mom’s being such a bitch,” she spits, wiping her eyes. On her left hand, you spot something shiny, and it takes a moment for you to register the huge diamond ring on her finger. Like you can read each other’s minds, you and Danny look at each other, back to the ring, and then back to each other. Danny’s mouth is wide open in an ‘O’, and Jo squints at him. “What, Danny?”

She notices you staring at her, too. “Guys. What? Can’t you see I’m obviously in distress?”

“With that ring? You should be the happiest woman on the planet, Jo,” Danny replies.

“Ugh.” Jo sniffles aggressively. “I can’t be happy when Mom is being so...judgemental! I mean, can’t she just be happy for me?”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt, hands up in a ‘slow down’ motion. “Who gave you that ring?”

Your sister looks at you like that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. Her face in this expression looks almost exactly like your mother’s, and it strikes a nerve deep down. “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Peter. From - “

“The guy from the coffee shop?” You’re completely surprised. Jo makes impulsive decisions, yes, but getting engaged to a guy she’s been on four dates with? That’s just plain reckless.

“Yes. He proposed last week.” She sniffles again, this time trying to seem at least a little more dignified. Chin high, she proclaims, “We’re in love.”

Danny sips his champagne, still completely caught off-guard. He has a small smile as he watches you say, “Jo, that’s fucking insane.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young.”

Your brother laughs. “She’s only two years younger than you.”

“That’s two whole years of experience she doesn’t have.”

“You realize I’m not seventeen anymore, right, Jo? I’m an actual adult.”

“An adult with an actual job,” Danny points out.

“I have a job!” Your sister protests.

“What job? Oh, wait, you mean being a sugar baby, right? That’s your job?”

Jo glares at you. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

You shrug and drink some more champagne. “I’m being honest.”

“You’re being mean.” “Oh my god, Jo. You’re the one getting married to a guy you’ve known for two months.”

“We’re in love!”

“You can’t possibly be in love!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the expert of all things romantic! Please, O Great One, give me your opinion!”

You pressed your lips together tightly. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, wait! I forgot,” Jo continues. “The Master of Love has a boyfriend.”

Your face heats up. You’d only told your mom you had a boyfriend so she would stop badgering you with questions about your love life. You hadn’t been thinking about the consequences, you’d just wanted to stop the questioning, and that had clearly backfired. “Mom told you that?”

Your sister smiles, seemingly satisfied with this secret knowledge. Danny, who’s been listening to the conversation with wide eyes, is grinning like a maniac behind his champagne flute.

“Yes,” Jo says. “So, where is he?”

Scrambling internally, you frown. “He’s busy.”

“Probably spending Christmas with his family,” Danny cuts in. That is surprising - usually he’ll let Jo beat you down, and then show support later. And anyway, he doesn’t even know you’re lying about the boyfriend. “They’re probably ten times less dysfunctional.”

At the last word, Jo switches gears completely, snapping her head to look at Danny. “We’re not dysfunctional,” she hisses.

Your brother laughs in her face. “Yes, we are.”

As they begin to argue, you take this as your chance to escape. You leave your champagne on the island - alcohol will only make this worse, and you want to be somewhat lucid for dinner. On the bright side, the less you drink now, the more you can drink later. You make your way down the hall, stopping to look at the photos framed on the walls in a remarkably perfect design. Every Christmas card photo meticulously arranged from oldest to newest, below the childhood pictures. There are a few of Jo, with her beautiful curls and pearly-white teeth, playing lacrosse. Everyone’s high school graduation photos. Lots of photos of Danny, the eldest and golden child. His first birthday, his eighteenth birthday, first day in college, first Christmas back home, various pictures of him and your parents. Any picture including your dad is small and inconspicuously placed, so as not to draw attention to it.

Scattered between pictures of your siblings are the ones of you. They’re all smaller; the only large one is your high school cap and gown picture. And the others aren’t of your accomplishments - they’re of you at home, smiling, with a book, or building a snowman with your dad in the backyard. Tucked below a picture of Danny and one of his ex-girlfriends (Sandy, your mother’s favorite) and above Jo’s first varsity photo is your favorite. Your dad took it when you were fourteen, on an old camera, one that used film, and had developed it himself. You had gone to visit him in Oregon, the only one who’d wanted to go, and as a surprise, he’d taken you to the beach. Your hair is wet and sticking to your face, and you’re making a silly face - lips puckered, eyes crossed, hands at either side of your face like fish gills. It’s a decade old, and the memory has faded a bit in your mind, but you can still remember the way he laughed at you when he took the photo. “That’ll be a good one,” he’d proclaimed. “I’ll send it to you.”

That’s how it was every summer since then. You went off to stay with him in Oregon, and Jo stayed at home with your mother. Danny, seven years older than Jo and nine older than you, wasn’t involved, at that point - he was just joining the bureau. Nobody had batted an eye when your dad didn’t show up to the party last month. Him and Danny had never quite gotten along.So you spend June through August with him at Gold Beach. Just the picture brings to mind memories from the cottage; the summer your dad grew a beard; him bringing you to the touristy area, to a struggling record shop to let you pick out your first album. You still had it, tucked away in an old box of vinyls in the back of your closet at home. The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

There was something surprising about your mom keeping this picture. She hated that you spent your summers with him. It wasn’t uncommon for her to blame your personality as an adult on those vacations with your dad, as though he was the reason you were a journalist, and not that he’d simply loved you for who you were, and given you the love and affection you’d needed. So the picture here, that was confusing. In fact, you’d thought for years she’d thrown it out, because she talked so often about how deeply she wishes she’d fought for full custody in the divorce. Why would she keep the picture?

There’s no way she kept it as a reminder of him. She’d never voluntarily keep something like that around.

So then, why does she have it?

“Do you have to wear that horribly offensive sweater?”

And there she is, the devil herself, shrill as ever. You turn to the end of the hall and find your mother there, in her favorite cream-colored dress. Her hair was in a bun, and you knew without even being close to her that she had wasted an incredible amount of hairspray on keeping it in place. She’s wearing the pearl earrings and necklace set Danny gave her for her birthday last year, and on her wrist was a surprise - the white watch you’d gifted her.

“Hey to you too, Mom,” you greet, not dignifying the question with an answer. The best way to deal with her was to pretend you didn’t hear her little jabs.

“Honestly, Y/N, how do you expect us to have a peaceful dinner with my family when you’re wearing such blatantly tasteless clothing?” She approaches you and seems to be picking apart your appearance piece by piece. You expected no different. “Our family. And I know Leah and Mark will think it’s funny.” The only two cousins of thirteen that you can stand, Leah is Aunt Cindy’s only daughter, and Mark is her eldest son.

“What?” Genuine confusion etches itself into her features.

You raise an eyebrow. “Our family. I’m related to them, too.”

She snorts. “No, you take too much after Ryan’s family to be a Benson.” The mention of her last name, once her maiden name, presses a button for you. When they got divorced, Danny took your mom’s last name, and when Jo asked, she took her to city hall so she could change it back to Benson.You were the only child who kept your father’s last name.

“Technically, I’m half Benson, half L/N.”

“Mmm,” she hums noncommittally. “Sure. If that’s what you believe.”

You furrow your brows. “You gave birth to me.”

Smiling tightly, she says, “Babies have been switched at hospitals before.”

Completely taken aback, your jaw drops open, and she takes this chance to survey your teeth. “I see you’ve had dental work done since last month.”

You close your mouth tightly and frown. “Just a cleaning.”

She looks you up and down and once again offers nothing but a disingenuous “Sure.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before your mother inhales sharply and asks, “Has Jo told you yet?”

“About the engagement?”

“Yes.” She is gritting her teeth so hard you’re sure she’s going to crack a molar.

“Yeah.”

“And your opinion?”

You shrug. “I think it’s royally stupid, but it’s her decision.”

This seems to satisfy her, because she nods and, after looking you up and down once more and confirming that you are not going to change your outfit, she heads past you, her heels clicking forcibly against the hardwood.

You exhale audibly when she is gone, the tension in your chest and back releasing slowly. Conversations with her are so tense you can hardly breathe, she takes up so much air.

Raised voices echo down the hall from the kitchen. You look uncomfortably in the direction the chaos is coming from. Forcing yourself to walk towards the room, you find yourself standing quietly in the entryway to the kitchen.

Jo and your mother are going at it again. Your sister’s face is red and puffy, she’s clearly been crying the entire time. Danny is sitting down at the dining room table, pouring himself yet another glass. You sigh, and there’s only one thing that comes to mind as you watch this scene unfold, your mother talking loudly and sternly to Jo, who is yelling and sobbing.

God, you hate it here.

---

You’ve been banished (read: released) to the store, to pick up eggs. And milk. But only almond milk, the soy kind. You’re not sure that exists, but whatever. Any chance to escape your mother’s house is a chance you’ll take.

This grocery store has been standing since before you were born. Your parents went to it, their parents went to it, and even their parents went to it. O’Malley’s General is over five decades old, and even worse -

As you enter through the old wooden door, you peer around at the inside of the store. Fruit and veggies are still on your left, the over-the-counter pharmaceuticals to your right. No different from when you were five.

“Y/N!” The man sitting at one of the two checkout desks to your left offers you a wide grin.

- it’s a family business. When you were younger, it was run by Dennis O’Malley, a charmer in every sense of the word. You, Danny, and Jo used to make fun of your mother every time she blushed at one of Dennis’ not-quite-well-meaning flirts.In the time you’ve been gone, Dennis must’ve died, because his usual spot at the foremost checkout counter, his rickety metal stool, is occupied by his son, Ryan. He’s your age, and it appears he never grew into his big front teeth. You offer him a wave as he sets down his magazine and makes his way over to you.

“Hi, Ryan,” you say, picking up a basket from the stack near the door.

He takes a place next to you as you head for the small refrigerators at the back of the produce section, where you know the milk and eggs are. “How are you? Feels like I haven’t seen you in years!”

You laugh politely, smile stretching thin. “Yeah, it’s been a little bit. I’m good.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

The awkward quiet stretches on. You open the glass door and look for the milk your mom asked for, almond soy milk, you’re sure that isn’t real but nonetheless -

“You look just as pretty as when I last saw you,” Ryan compliments, and you feel your stomach turn at the words. Even in high school he’d been this way, interested in you, watching you from across the cafeteria and sticking notes to your locker in passing periods. He’s a little too close, you realize as you turn to him. You can feel his hot breath on your face, and instantly you smell that he didn’t brush his teeth this morning. Your flesh crawls as you meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you offer slowly. Your eyes dart to find a way around him as you say, “Ryan, you’re a little too close to me.”

He doesn’t make an effort to give you any space - in fact, quite the opposite. He steps his right foot forward, moving at nearly the pace of molasses, and you feel your adrenaline spike when he reaches his hand out to feel the cloth of your ugly sweater, his touch suddenly turning to a death grip on the cotton. “We’ve been this close before,” he murmurs, and you panic.

Your hands come up to his shoulders and shove him away as hard as you possibly can. You succeed in pushing him away, partly, but his right hand is still gripping your sweater, anchoring him to you. His quiet demeanor dissolves into something resembling hurt as he pulls you closer to him, grabbing your other shoulder with his free hand -

The front door squeaks open. Ryan, distracted, turns to look at the door. You take this moment to finally shove him off of you, running around him. There’s another man standing at the front door, eyes flicking back and forth from you and Ryan. When you move to get past him, he appears to regain his senses, following you out of the store.

“Wait! Are you okay?” He yells, and the sound of his voice stops you in your tracks.

You freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. There’s no way. There’s no way. You’re delusional. “Excuse me?” He asks again.

You turn slowly on your heels. He looks so concerned, his face contorted in the same way he used to frown when you’d fail a turn on the ice while practicing your routine. That worry, reminiscent of how he’d skate over and offer you a hand, pulling you up with a simple “Are you alright?”

You exhale, hard. There’s no sign of recognition on his face, no nostalgia, no recovered memories of an old friend. You’re having a freak coincidence right now, and the only other person who would understand has no idea who you are.

He walks over, his boots crunching rock salt as he surveys your face for wounds. “Can you hear me?”

Snap out of it.

You blink a couple times. Nod. Twice. “Yes, I’m sorry, yes, I’m okay.”

The friend smiles, but it’s confused, worried. “Do you need me to call 911, or…?”

“No,” you laugh. The noise catches both of you by surprise, but you can’t stop, dropping the basket, giggles shaking your body. The situation is a little comical, in all honesty - you’re stuck in your hometown with your dysfunctional family, you were practically just assaulted by someone who’s been in love with you since the eighth grade, and the boy you were once in love with doesn’t remember you. It’s like the plot of a Hallmark movie, if Hallmark movies were written by whoever writes Grey’s Anatomy.

You look up at him, and there’s that little chuckle of his, the one that lights up his whole face. He’s confused, yeah, but he’s got the right spirit. You clear your throat and extend your hand to him. “Thank you, really.”

He takes it gently. “Sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, definitely, thank you.” Releasing his hand, you pick up the basket from the ground. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” He’s still watching your face carefully. “You know what? Why don’t I accompany you home?”

Oh, no. No thank you. Not today. Not in my Hallmark movie.

“No thanks. I’ll be fine.”“Can I at least give you my number?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “So you can text me to make sure you got home okay.”

Your laugh is cold, abrupt. “Why would you care?”

“Because I just saw you get assaulted! Is it a crime to care about people?”

“No, but it’s weird to give your number to a stranger.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Oh, do they, really? Where?”

“Bars. Clubs. Parties.”

“We’re not in any of those places.”

He rolls his eyes with a smile, already whipping out his phone. “I’m Vince. Dunn.”

You laugh a little self-consciously. “Yeah, I know.”

Vince looks up from tapping his screen to raise his eyebrow at you. “You’re into hockey?”

“No. We went to school together.”

His eyes widen, first with shock. You see the initial confusion pass and become replaced by intense, sudden recognition. “Y/N?”

You grin broadly. “Long time no see.”

---

This absolutely wasn’t your fault.

You hadn’t ever expected him to go along with it, let alone offer himself up to help you. You’d merely been commiserating. Right, sharing your troubles with a friend.

Vince takes you to brunch the next day, a welcome reprieve from your family. Your mother protests, but you’re only half-listening to her while you watch the read 9:13 am appear below your most recent text to him.

vince

La Fontaine is way overpriced. Let me show you a place

You smile and type back, what? so you can get me alone?

vince

Is it really so bad to want to spend time alone with an old friend?

vince

We haven’t seen each other in years, there’s no way you know any good breakfast places here

you

you remember that i grew up here, right?

vince

Sorry, how long’s it been since you’ve been here?

you

touche

you

bastard

Vince

It’s within walking distance. I’ll meet you at Bailey’s at 10?

you

sounds like a plan

It’s good, to see him again. Your breath fogs the space in front of you, dissipating when you walk through it, your steps in perfect synchronization with Vince’s. He leads you down a back road that hadn’t existed when you were little and entertains you the whole walk with tales of his hockey shenanigans. You find yourself shocked that the Vince you knew as a child, the goofy kid that never quite fit in, is now a famous professional athlete. Time has changed him, too; he’s so mature now, with his good posture and manners. He holds the door open to a small diner off Quincy and Arlette, and you find yourself wondering if an alien kidnapped your childhood best friend and possessed his body.

When he starts talking is when you feel your heart begin to slip. The way he grins when he’s talking about his friends or his family or something stupid he’s done is breathtaking, his lips reaching his eyes. The way he throws his head back when he laughs, a deep, shaky noise, like if he’s too loud he’s going to break something.

So when he asks about your love life, you can’t help it. You open your mouth and words materialize on your lips without you even consciously forming them. You tell him everything, about your tragic love history and the way you felt when your mother asked snidely if you were going to bring a boy home for Christmas and the panic in your chest when you blurted “yes.”

And when your lip wobbles after you finish, he swears he can see tears beginning to prick at your eyes. Baby, he thinks - no, he feels the word in his heart, looking at you like this.It’s not your fault he offered himself up. He’s a grown man, he makes his own decisions, and he is the one who decided to pretend to be your boyfriend at Christmastime. In front of your family.

You’re just the one who’s going along with it.

---

“We should probably hold hands.”

The skin of his hands is rough, calloused, a sharp contrast to your soft touch. His palm feels so big against yours, the flat surface nearly dwarfing your whole hand, long fingers enclosed around yours. He bites his nails - you know from one glance at the chewed nubs of calcium.

“And hug,” he adds. “Couples hug.”

“Okay, fine, hugging, too.”

When his arms snake their way around your torso from behind, you become acutely aware of just how touch-starved you are. Every nerve ending is on fire, rocketing signals lightning-fast to your brain, adrenaline flooding your system. Your heartbeat quickens, and you know he feels it, the bastard, because your mother asks him what he’s smiling about, and he says “Nothing.”

You turn in his arms when she leaves, taking a step away from him. He looks mildly dismayed at the loss of your warmth but doesn’t comment on it. You lead the topic of conversation away from the hug.

“What about kissing?” Vince points out. “Couples kiss.”

Five.

That line has been ringing through his head all night. Every glimpse he catches of you, every tiny little look, makes the phrase rattle around his skull like a maraca of that one phrase.

When you catch his eye across the kitchen and make a funny face at him, a small gesture of togetherness in an atmosphere so cold and distancing.

“Couples kiss.”

Four.

When he rounds the corner to find the bathroom. You come around the opposite side at the same time and smack your face right against his chest, and when you pull back frantically you look up at Vince with a look of such pure apology he can’t help it.

“Couples kiss.”

Three.

You take his hand under the table at dinner. You don’t even really know why - it’s a strangely intimate gesture - but you see it through, your small hand resting gently on top of his.He flips his hand over so you can lace your fingers through his.

“Couples kiss.”

Two.

You huff, considering him.

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

New Year’s isn’t an emergency, Vince knows. He knows New Year’s is actually the exact opposite of an emergency, nothing important, and if he could, he’d walk away. At least, he pretends he would.

But he can’t, because your siblings are egging him on, face-to-face with you.

“Couples kiss.”

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

“An absolute emergency.”

“Couples kiss.”

“Emergency.”

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

He knows New Year’s isn’t an emergency and he knows he could just brush Danny and Jo off but the light is framing you so perfectly, and the way you smile at him so earnestly - his brain is shaking like a pinball machine but he doesn’t have time to consider that so he kisses you.

One.

He kisses you.

Your lips are sweet against his. You taste like sugar, he notices.

And then you pull away and make an excuse to use the restroom again and while Jo and Danny screech congratulations and celebrations at him. The champagne glass in his hand feels empty, and the hand he had tangled in your hair only seconds ago feels like it’s burning.

Couples kiss.

---

When you press the hastily-wrapped present into his hands, you won’t meet his eyes. It’s days after that kiss, that goddamned mistake, and you’re so shaky you can barely keep it together. The sight of you in such an uncomfortable state in Vince’s presence hits him in the heart and causes a deep knot to settle in his stomach.

Idiot.

“I know we said no presents,”

“We’re not a couple,” you said. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“But I think you deserve at least one. For putting up with my family.”

“What if I want to get you something? As friends?”

He offers his best normal smile. “You didn’t have to,” he says. A car horn blasts from somewhere near.

You scowled at him, but he just continued. “I can get presents for my friends.”

It’s ironic that he’s the one who asked to give presents but here you are, with a present, and here he is, empty-handed.

The silence is awkward.“Well,” you say. “Have a good trip.”

You’re turning to leave when his hand grips your upper arm, holding you in place. You move your gaze to meet his, and before you can say anything, he says,

“Hey.” His eyes are boring holes into yours. You feel goosebumps litter your skin when he says, “Happy New Year.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and he lets you go.

He lets you go.

---

The box weighs heavy in his lap. The car moves with every bump in the road, and with each jolt he feels the cardboard corners, wrapped in patterns of reindeer faces and Santa’s smile, pressing into his legs. The sharp, quick pain is a constant reminder, and it makes him think of you. Even the wrapping paper is so stereotypically you, obviously something you grabbed from the back of your closet or (more likely) borrowed from a neighbor or classmate. He could see it now, the way you asked with a smile if they had any ugly wrapping paper, the confusion on their face as you lit up when they said, yeah, why? You delighted in the stupid pattern, so busy that he could barely focus on just one aspect. And you’d certainly picked a black Sharpie to write his name, knowing full well it’d easily be lost in the mottled colors and insane patterns. The way you wrote Vince, in that unique combination of print and cursive, like you couldn’t decide - again, so predictably you. He traces the big V with his index finger, picturing you in your apartment, on the floor, taking special care to write his name this way, on the top where he would at least have a chance of seeing it. Your hair falling into your face, hand gripping the pen and being oh-so-meticulous about the way you wrote it, his name, not wanting it to be too big, but not too small either. Just the right size to grab his attention.

Of course you would.

And you’d have known that he would hate to tear open the paper, to rip something with so much significance to him. He flips the box over and finds the taped-over seam. There has to be a way to undo this without ruining the wrapping, he knows, so he picks at the tape gently, taking care not to destroy the delicate paper. The taping is perfect, because you, obviously, couldn’t handle anything else. It spans the exact length of the box, no more, no less; you’ve always been a perfectionist.

He manages to unwrap the box with only one or two tiny tears and feels a tiny moment of pride immediately eclipsed by the desire to know what, exactly, you’ve given him for Christmas. He flips it over to find the top once more and does so successfully. The top flaps of cardboard are folded over each other without any tape, and he remembers begging you to teach him how to do this when you were kids, making presents for the teachers at your school. You never did.

He pulls one of the tabs and, like magic, the whole top undoes itself. Inside, there’s another small box with what he assumes are polaroids, two tiny boxes next to each other, a wrapped present in the shape of a book, all placed meticulously on shredded filler paper. Delicately taped on top of the book-shaped item is an envelope.

On the front, Vince, in your script. Of course.

Something about the box smells familiar, so he brings the envelope to his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The scent of your favorite perfume, the one you wear constantly, your lucky charm (as you’ve informed him several times), floods his senses, and he nearly cries at the nostalgia that fills his heart. His whole body aches with pain, begging him, make the Uber driver turn the car around, run back.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he opens the envelope carefully. Inside is a stack of papers folded together several times, small enough to fit the package. He can’t help but smile at the long, flowing script you use when you write on loose-leaf, when you’re feeling emotional. Again the way you write has his heartstrings tugging. He isn’t a crier, usually, but for you he makes an exception. For you tears gather in his eyes, threatening to break and bury him. For you he feels, feels so deeply and painfully he doesn’t know if he can manage to read more than Dear Vince because it might kill him, the aching in his heart and the begging in his hands. The memory of you is poised for destruction in his mind and he can’t help but wonder if you’d known this is what you could do to him, this was the power you held over his life.

Dear Vince, that fatal first line reads.

Dear Vince.

#vince dunn fic

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edenbrookcelestial · 3 years

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cold as you || [ethan ramsey x mc]

summary: love doesn’t always burn. sometimes, it freezes.

warnings: angst, harsh ethan.

author’s notes: song title from taylor swift’s cold as you, story inspired by it.

word count: 2327

you have a way of coming easily to me and when you take, you take the very best of me so i start a fight 'cause i need to feel something and you do what you want 'cause i’m not what you wanted

“ ethan, please. ”

ethan touched a hand to his forehead, as though to soothe an ache building there. “ avalon. i don’t know what you want from me. ”

avalon stared for a moment, incredulous. “ what i want? ethan, i want something. anything. any sign that you’re willing to commit to this, to us, to me. ”

the man closed his eyes and turned toward the window of his office, gazing out at the city buzzing below. “ does everything have to be such a drama with you? ” he mused aloud, driving yet another knife deeper into the younger doctor’s heart.

she gritted her teeth and blinked away the tears threatening to spill; no, she would not give him the satisfaction. “ one moment you say you want to be with me. the next, you’re telling me you can’t see a future.”

“ that’s not what i said, ” ethan murmured, a heavy sigh accompanying the words. ‘’ i said no one can know what the future holds.”

“ so you make a choice, ” she countered, voice like thunder. “ you choose to commit to a person, despite the fact that you don’t know what’s coming. ”

ethan’s mind wandered to the stack of paperwork currently cluttering up his desk. he moved to sit behind it and selected a pen, never once glancing up at avalon. “ i don’t have time for this.”

avalon watched as he began to fill in forms, the top of his fancy fountain pen tapping against his lower lip. she let out a humourless chuckle and clenched her fists, moving her gaze to her feet. “ no. you never do.”

ethan didn’t look up until after the door had swished open and shut, until avalon was long gone down the hallway.

oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say and now that i’m sitting here thinking it through i’ve never been anywhere cold as you

the streets were slick with rain. thick clouds sagged and poured water down across the city, avalon’s thin grey hoodie a poor deterrent to the weather. by the time she’d made it three blocks away from the hospital, she was soaked to the bone. at least the rain covered her tears. how could she possibly have ended up here? aching for a man who shut her out more often than he ever let her in? she thought back to her first interaction with ethan; how cold and stand-offish he’d been. as she reflected on all the months that had passed since, she realised, that coldness had never quite thawed. his edges were still sharp enough to cut if one were to get too close. and every time she believed there’d been a breakthrough, she’d blink and find herself left outside in the rain all over again.

you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray and i stood there loving you and wished them all away and you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

they say that insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. avalon had been fighting ethan’s defences since the moment they first met. over a year later and not a dent was to be found. at work, she threw herself into case after case, diagnosing the impossible, gaining respect and admiration from every coworker by her side. as great as it felt to be on top of her game professionally, nothing could help the drop she experienced once she clocked out. her friends dragged her to donahughes nightly, buying beers and betting on games of pool. she tried her best to enjoy herself, to show her friends that she appreciated their efforts. one night, a couple of weeks after their arguement in his office, avalon spotted ethan at the bar. he was out with several of the more senior doctors, harper emory, baz mirani, june hirata, even naveen. they hadn’t spoken much in a personal capacity in days. aurora, elijah, jackie, sienna, and bryce were all too aware of what was distracting the blonde junior doctor.

excusing herself to head to the bathroom, avalon kept her head down as she moved through the crowd. unfortunately, she’d have to pass ethan’s table to get to her destination, and she prayed fiercely to slip by unnoticed. however, once she was a mere few feet away, her name was spoken by harper, causing her to stall.

“ summers is doing very well, wouldn’t you say? ”

june shrugged, a glass of wine in her hand. “ she’s capable of the job. ’

baz rolled his eyes at his co-worker. “ she’s fantastic. she sees things the rest of us can’t, she’s diagnosed more patients this month than we have in a long time. you made a good call, boss. ” he nodded to naveen, who smiled serenely. his gaze flitted to ethan, his face carefully neutral.

“ and you, ethan? what do you think? ”

avalon held her breath, she shouldn’t really be listening in, but then again... they were discussing her. she strained to hear ethan’s words over the buzz of the crowd and the music playing from the jukebox across the way.

“ she’s capable. she works hard. ”

well, there were worse things he could have said.

june smirked over the rim of her glass. red wine swirling like blood. ‘’ that all you have to say about your favourite resident? ‘’ she bared her teeth in a wicked smile. “ we all know she follows you around like a lost little puppy dog. ” ethan smiled too, slightly strained.

“ ah, june. you know what residents are like. they get an idea in their head, they run with it. nothing more than idle gossip, and i would have thought you to be above listening to that. ”

avalon felt her heart shatter in all the places it once glowed under ethan’s remarks. without a word, she turned from the table and pushed through the crowd again, this time aiming for the door. her friends hadn’t noticed, still believing avalon to be in the bathroom. she was thankful for this, the tears pouring down her face making her distress obvious. but she didn’t want to talk about it. she was done talking about it, about him. she was just done.

you never did give a damn thing, honey, but i cried, cried for you and i know you wouldn't have told nobody if i died, died for you, died for you

how cliché was it possible for one person to get? not only had avalon fallen for her boss, now here she was, tissue box by her knees, sniffling through heartbroken tears. a half-eaten bar of chocolate in one hand, her phone in the other. in her earphones, my chemical romance soothed her ache. the muffled sounds of knocking at her bedroom door lifted her attention. she flung a pillow in that direction, which landed just short of the doorframe with a pathetic thwump. she rolled onto her side, taking another bite of her chocolate. like everything in her life these days, it was dark and bittersweet, and when she opened her mouth to yawn she tasted salt on her lips. she clenched her fists, crumpling the wrapper with a crinkle. when the night grew into early morning, she ventured from her room to wash her face and grab a drink. elijah was by the fridge when she got to the kitchen, his expression in the dim room one of concern. “ hey, av,” he greeted softly, wheeling over to the kitchen counter. “ hey, eli. ” she cleared her throat, hoarse from lack of use. “ early shift today? ” he shook his head. “ just couldn’t sleep. ” she nodded, understanding the feeling.

“ i know things haven’t been easy for you, lately, av… ” the breath hitched in her throat. he reached for her hand, warm and soft. “ i just want you to know, you deserve better. ” his voice was so earnest, his words so genuine. she meet his gaze, red-rimmed emerald on soft, caring brown. “ you deserve so much more than this. you deserve so much better. ” avalon blinked, more tears slipping down her face. elijah’s heart ached, at the sight of his friend so distraught. he loved her deeply, she was like a sister to him. and to see her broken-down and aching because of a guy? it killed him.

he squeezed her hand, tight, and she sat heavily on one of their wooden stools. her head found a resting spot on elijah’s shoulder. she sobbed, and he brought his arms around her, holding her to his chest “ i’m sorry, eli, i’m sorry. ” he hushed her gently. murmuring to her as he rubbed her shoulders in soothing circles.

“ you have nothing to be sorry for. it’s not your fault. ”

they sat like that for more than hour, until the barest hint of sunshine streamed in through a chink in the blinds.

oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day every smile you fake is so condescending counting all the scars you made

“ doctor summers? ”

her stomach twisted in on itself. ethan’s voice was nothing but professional, yet her nerves sprang to the edge when she heard it. leaving a patient’s chart by the nurse’s station, she turned to meet his icy blue gaze. “ a word? ” he asked, as casual as you like. avalon nodded and followed him silently to his office. the automatic doors slid shut with a gentle hiss.

he turned to face her, expression unreadable. “ i just wanted to check in. ” she replayed the words in her head, remaining silent as she processed. “ avalon? ”

she moved her eyes over his face. looking for some hint of what he wanted, what he really meant. he stepped closer and tilted his head, a tinge of worry seeping onto his face. “ it’s been a while since we spoke, ” he said, reaching to brush her wrist with his fingertips. she jolted at the gentle touch, and he stilled, his eyes meeting hers.

“ we don’t need to talk. ”

avalon’s voice was stronger than she had expected it to be. ethan was taken by surprise at her words, raising an eyebrow. “ i’m sorry? ”

she shook her head, a solemn expression on her face. “ no, you’re not, ” she whispered, and straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze straight on. “ we don’t need to talk outside of work. okay? we talk about patients, and treatment, and strategy. other than that… i have nothing else to say to you. ”

ethan’s blue eyes widened, his lips opening in a silent oh. he seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move or speak.

“ we - there is no we. ” avalon decided. “ we are colleages. we work together. we don’t see each other outside of it. we don’t… i deserve better, ” she said, defiantly. “ the way you have treated me… i don’t deserve it. ” to her own surprise, she didn’t feel like crying. no, she felt better and better as she went on, finally standing up for herself. “ and i get it, you have issues, you have baggage, well, newsflash. we all do. and i should have walked away, before now, i should have. but i didn’t. and i - i’m sorry, ethan. i’m sorry that you would rather be alone than be loved. than let yourself love. i’m not a freakin’ rehab clinic. it’s not my job to fix you. it’s my job to fix our patients. ” she paused a moment, gauging ethan’s reaction. just shock, it seemed.

she sighed, sad and deep, and slightly relieved. “ i can’t do this anymore. so you need to stop. you don’t get to decide that you want me one minute, and then don’t want me the next. if you can’t respect someone else, regardless of your own trust issues, you really shouldn’t be in a relationship. ” she swallowed, hard, and felt the tension in the room swell as she finished her monologue. she didn’t exactly regret it, but did she wish she had picked a better place? yeah, maybe. but it wasn’t like she had even planned on saying any of it. it was just all too much. the weeks of crying herself to sleep, of watching ethan ignore her. elijah’s words of encouragement had echoed deep in her heart and her mind. and avalon finally knew that she respected herself too much to stay as ethan ramsey’s emotional punching bag.

ethan finally nodded, slowly. “ i hear you. i understand. ” his voice is monotone, lacking any trace of emotion. nothing really new there. avalon regarded him with caution. “ i mean it, ” she said, slowly, emphasising the words. ethan broke his gaze away, looking toward his desk. he nodded stiffly, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. avalon backed up until she heard the hiss of the door. with one foot in the hallway, ethan spoke again, softer, the slightest note of regret in it. “ you’re right, you know. you do deserve better. ”

when she looks back over her shoulder, he’s resting his hands on his desk. his head turned to the side, watching her leave. blue eyes warm, but wet. her throat tightened and for a moment, her resolve faltered. there was a moment of heartwrenching vulnerability, just about visible.

it was too late. avalon put her hand on the doorframe, leaning against it. “ you deserve better, too, ethan. ” ethan watched her walk away, each receding footstep another crack to his heart. he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. it was over. he lost her.

she was gone.

and now that i’m sitting here thinking it through i’ve never been anywhere cold as you

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices open heart #choices oh #open heart #pixelberry #playchoices #choices spoilers #ethan ramsey fic #ethan ramsey fanfiction

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

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Princess Charming And The Gentleman in Distress

Index

A/N: I wrote this for my beautiful friend @the-hufflefluffwriter who loves Lucissa and helped me explore this ship. I loved writing this and I hope you like it as well <3

Lucius x Narcissa

Word count: 1530

Summary: Narcissa asks Lucius on a date.

Ever since he had gotten to Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy walked about the school grounds like a dandy. He was handsome and intelligent, qualities he knew he possessed and was not afraid to flaunt them in and out of class. He kept mostly to himself and talked to a very selected few. This rubbed most students the wrong way, as they assumed the was just another stuck up, entitled pureblood.

Which he was, to an extent.

Lucius was raised to be the perfect heir of a long line of (mostly) pure blooded wizards and witches, after all. He behaved with the propriety and decorum he was expected to, but that was not the reason why he wouldn’t engage with most people.

In reality, he knew he wasn’t half as charming as he imagined himself to be. He could get really dorky about things he was passionate about, like potion making or reading. He was an expert in lots of random things. He knew the events of the XVI century’s witch hunts and Anne Boleyn’s biography by heart. He loved animals, especially peacocks and learned every fact about them. He was kind-hearted, sensitive and open to new ideas, characteristics his father scorned.

Through the years, Lucius had curated an image of perfection he wasn’t willing to lose. And he wasn’t going to let anyone use his true colours against him like his father did.

So, as he walked to the prefects’ carriage, his shiny new badge pinned to his robes, he procured to maintain his composure. Nobody could’ve guessed how proud and excited he was about his new position. His mask of poise fell for a minute when he saw who the other Slytherin prefect was.

Narcissa Black was probably the most popular girl in their year. She was beautiful and dignified, with the aristocratic flair that accompanied her last name. She was also brilliant and had a way with people that made her the centre of attention wherever she went. She was a beater and the star of the Slytherin quidditch team. Narcissa laughed and the world stopped to listen. She was everything Lucius tried to convey and wasn’t.

They had never talked to each other. Narcissa had a lot of suitors, but the only two boys she really talked to apart from her teammates were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, who dated her older sisters.

As he sat next to her, one single thought crossed his mind: Salazar, this is going to be very, very awkward.

…

“So, are you really thinking about filling your manor with albino peacocks?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

“Of course! They are beautiful, noble creatures. Once I’m the owner, I’ll have them everywhere,” he answered humorously and yet dead serious.

“What a joy to whoever marries you, Malfoy.”

As the months went by, Narcissa and Lucius struck up a very particular friendship. Little by little, he opened up to her. She was endeared by every arbitrary piece of knowledge he had to share with her. She loved how he listened intently to whatever she had to say and he’d ask real questions without ever being nosy. Narcissa found someone who understood her insecurities, someone who not only valued her wittiness but always had a perfect comeback for her. They were overly dramatic together, balancing the etiquette demanded by their families with playfulness.

Their nightly rounds suddenly became the highlight of their weeks. Every day, Lucius would try to find more creative ways to flirt. As the friendship grew, so did his attraction for Narcissa and he was dying to ask her out.

“That could be you, you know?” he said smugly.

Narcissa looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She knew Lucius liked her; he wasn’t subtle at all. And she liked him back, but she knew better than to show him that. Her sisters had taught her well.

“Oh, I know that approach too well, Malfoy. My mother warned me about guys like you.” She crossed her arms playfully.

“Oh, really? So, she warned you about handsome, intelligent and absolutely talented guys like me?” he shot back.

Narcissa laughed, a full-blown laugh that left her breathless. Lucius felt satisfied.

“No, you fool. She told me about those men, too eager to get a proper lady for a wife and a line of mistresses and bastards on the side,” she said dramatically.

It was Lucius’ turn to look at her as though she had gone mad. “And I am one of those?”

“Definitely.”

“Cissa, I can count with one hand the amount of people I talk to. If anything, you are the one who might be searching for a proper gentleman for a husband and a line of lovers on the side,” he countered.

“Not going to lie, I definitely like that idea. The swap of gender roles sounds refreshing,” she beamed back.

He shook his head as a smile played on his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, Narcissa Black.”

Narcissa smiled. They were already walking back to the Slytherin common room. She knew everything her sisters had told her about not showing too much interest. Andromeda was particularly adamant about this; she had shown the slightest bit of interest for Rabastan and he acted smug for months before asking her out. But she wondered how long she’d have to wait before Lucius made a move. Narcissa didn’t know many more nights of playful banter she could take. Patience wasn’t her forte, as much as her father told her it was the most important quality to cultivate.

Her heart was beating fast on her chest when they arrived to their common room. She decided to get over with it already.

“Cissa.”

“Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend,” she blurted out. Her tone was demanding, not allowing the least beat of doubt to show on her features.

Lucius nodded slowly, not able to disguise his surprise at her bravery.

…

Lucius offered his arm to Narcissa, who linked it with hers. They were very close to each other, enough for her to notice how her date was shivering. It was snowing as they walk to Hogsmeade. Narcissa took the necessary precautions when she chose her garments for the day. She looked beautiful, as always, but she was also properly dressed for the weather. Lucius, on the other hand, had sacrificed comfort for style and now he was freezing to the bone and pretending like everything was fine.

Narcissa could tell he couldn’t wait to arrive at Madam Puddifoot’s and get his hands on steaming cup of tea. She decided it was her moment to act gallantly; she had asked him out, after all. She took off her green scarf and put it around his neck. Once again, Lucius was taken aback by her attitude, but he couldn’t deny the scarf made a big difference.

They smiled at each other sweetly, but she knew she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. She was loving the whole “princess charming and gentleman in distress” situation.

“You know, Malfoy? I love seeing you in my clothes.”

Lucius’ face was already too red from the cold for Narcissa to notice the blush, so he decided to play along with her. “You’ve seen nothing, Black. I’d look fabulous in one of your skirts.”

She giggled. “That confidence makes me think it wouldn’t be the first time you wear someone’s skirt.”

“It would be,” he said, “I’m just so handsome I can pull anything off.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes playfully.

“Your confidence, on the other hand, makes me think it isn’t the first time a guy uses your clothes,” he retaliated.

“Oh, it’s definitely not the first time,” she said offhandedly, noticing how Lucius’ confident smile vanished from his beautiful face. “My cousin Sirius looks so pretty in my dresses. You have no idea!”

Lucius snorted. He pushed the door to Madam Puddifoot’s. A tinkle announced their arrival. The place was tacky and over the top, with ribbons and frills in every possible pastel colour. It was, anyhow, classier than the Three Broomsticks and Lucius had wanted to take her on the very best date possible.

As they sat down, Lucius inched forward and whispered something that could’ve probably scandalized any other proper lady he knew: “You’d look great in my clothes, Black.”

“Oh, Malfoy,” she retorted, her smile hinting an incredibly witty response, “you’ll have to go to hell and back before I wear your clothes.”

…

Lucius woke up to an empty bed. He sat up, scanning the room in search of his wife. He noticed sounds coming from the bathroom and laid back, waiting for Mrs. Malfoy to emerge. Narcissa came back to their bed wearing Lucius’ robe. He smiled at the sight and open his arms for her. She gladly complied and snuggled to her husband.

“You know, Cissa?” whispered Lucius, never missing the chance to mess with his wife.

“Yes?”

“Going to hell and back wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be,” he teased.

Narcissa filled the room with the wholehearted chortles only reserved for her husband and Lucius couldn’t feel any happier.

#lucissa #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x narcissa malfoy #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #narcissa #lucius #lucius malfoy x narcissa black #lucius x narcissa #lucissa fic #lucissa fanfiction #lucissa fanfic #narcissa malfoy fluff #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfics

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

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One in the Same (ending scene with Nightmare and Nyx)

I wanted to at least post the ending of this fic here, for anyone who might be interested in it but didn't wanna read the full thing (since it's a smutfic and all ^^")

Night's a very overprotective dad and has to make sure Nyx isn't running off to go do certain things (if you catch my drift) with a guy, so yeah, it might be just a smidge suggestive in terms of the subject they really briefly discuss, but if anything, it's more or less her saying "ew gross why would you even think that"

Also,, pretty much anytime they refer to Connie, they call her Chimera (since that was her name before she became a rider)

In his castle, Nightmare sat in his personal library, nestled on one of the end cushions on his sofa. With a book sitting open on the coffee table in front of him, he sighed deeply, his teeth upturned into a wicked grin. That was certainly an eventful "meeting" he'd just witnessed. Now that he knew how easy it was to make Conquest cave, he was beginning to consider going to visit her dreams again, sometime in the future. Thanks to Shattered, he now knew that she could give him the exact combination of negative feelings he'd been searching for, and now he had no real need to pursue anyone else for it.

"Father, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't bother any of my followers."

Upon hearing the unannounced female skeleton's voice, Nightmare lifted his gaze to the doorway, finding his daughter staring at him with cold violet eye lights that were ringed with grey. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and by her posturing, she was genuinely irritated with him. He arched a brow bone, attempting to feign ignorance, "Oh, I'm sorry, she was one of your followers? I had no idea." Nyx narrowed her sockets at him and scoffed, "Bullshit. You had an ulterior motive, and for your own benefit, you ignored our agreement."

Nightmare hummed, entirely unapologetic, "Well I wouldn't say I 'ignored' it... It was more like I 'forgot'." Nyx invited herself into the library, sitting in a chair across from her father, "Oh, please. You? Forgetting something? I highly doubt that." The guardian of negativity snorted in amusement, "Well I mean... I've been around way longer than you. I'm allowed to forget things sometimes." Nyx rolled her eye lights, not even the slightest bit convinced, "Father, don't. Don't even start. This is coming from you, someone who remembers nearly everything he reads in almost full detail. You also happen to be the one that swears up and down that he remembers everything about the first shadow I gave life to, back when I was only four years old." Nightmare couldn't help but chuckle softly; Despite not looking as monstrous as him, what with her clear lack of black goop and all, she was definitely his child. That snarky attitude was recognizable anywhere.

He sighed, his smile almost pleasant as he tilted his head and looked at her, "And I do. It was just a tiny little thing. No bigger than my hand. It had free will, too. It wasn't like the ones I made." Nyx stared at him intently, her arms folded neatly in her lap, "You didn't allow them to possess free will. That's why. My followers though. Chimera. How about we discuss her some more?" Nightmare's pleasant smile fell and he let out an exaggerated groan, his tentacles swaying and flicking in agitation, "Fine, fine. What all do you plan on lecturing me about today?"

His daughter chose to ignore the tone he spoke in, responding in as flat a tone of her own as she could manage, "Chimera is mine. She follows me for a cause completely different than yours. For someone who has no problem invading territory that belongs to others and helping himself to their personal belongings, you're possessive, and you always throw a fit when someone invades your space and touches your things. A bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

Nightmare blinked, surprised at how she'd so casually called him out. Trying to force back the surprise and remain neutral, he rolled his eye light, "And? This castle and the surrounding land is mine. Everything within these walls is mine. All the staff I've gathered? They're mine too, and I'll do as I please. Chimera is a reincarnation of Dream, and anything pertaining to him has nothing to do with you."

Nyx arched a brow bone, "She's not a reincarnation of your brother, though. She's an alternate. Therefore, she's technically not the Dream you've been trying so hard to murder, all these years. Also, Father, consider: I met her before you. She followed me before she knew you even existed. She would dismember a thousand people if I told her to. She has no personal ties to you, which means the agreement we made was broken, thanks to you."

The guardian of negativity scowled; There had to be a loophole to the agreement. There HAD to be. Without giving him a chance to argue, she spoke again, "If you touch her, be it real life or within the dreamscape, I'm taking one of your staff as my own. Touch her child, and I'll take them all. Maybe you don't take me seriously because I'm your daughter and I'm quite a bit younger than you, but I'm warning you. What I lack in experience, I make up for with my resources. You rule a castle, and have control of... what is it, seven people now? I have an entire kingdom, with a population of more than ten thousand."

Nightmare gawked at her, in shock that she'd even consider threatening him. He wanted to be outraged and he wanted to snap at her, but his anger quickly fizzled out and he burst into hearty laughter, a wide grin plastered on his face as he leaned back in his seat, "Shit, Nyx. I think you might've watched me a little too closely when you were a kid. Not that threatening me was a good idea, but I'd expect no less from you, at this point."

Nyx couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at her teeth, shattering the dead serious look she'd just been wearing only moments ago. She shook her head and sighed deeply, "What can I say? Nobody in the multiverse can yell as loud as you. It just made it easier for me to listen and take notes." Her father beamed, almost appearing proud, and she fought the urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looked.

She stood from her seat, taking a moment to smooth out her dress. Quickly piecing together that she planned to leave, Nightmare almost seemed disappointed, "Leaving so soon, are we?" Nyx merely nodded, offering him an apologetic smile, "Unfortunately, yeah. I've got followers to look after, a kingdom to rule, business in the dreamscape, all that good stuff." The guardian arched a brow bone, watching her curiously, "Business in the dreamscape? You never use the dreamscape. What kind of business could you possibly have there?"

The princess sighed, shrugging her shoulders, "Oh, nothing too important. I just have some cleaning up to do, since you decided to go and make a mess of everything." He stared at her intently, "Nyx, how do you intend to access the dreamscape? She's awake now." Nyx arched a brow bone, wearing the smallest of smiles, "Who said I was going to see her? I had someone else in mind." Nightmare pushed further, almost intrigued, "Such as...?" His daughter offered him a completely innocent smile, her tone teasing, "Oh, no one important. Mmmn... let's see, I think his name was Retribution."

Nightmare's stare hardened and his tentacles flicked again, the tips sharpening, "Of all people, why him? You could pick literally anyone else." Nyx hummed, "Um... Because I want to?" She started making a beeline for the doorway but stopped as one of his tentacles wrapped around her arm, "Nyx, I need you to swear to me that you're not planning on doing something weird."

Nyx hissed, swatting at his tentacle as if trying to make it release her, "Like what? You honestly don't think I'd have sex with him or anything, right?" Nightmare growled, "Nyx, swear to me right now that that's not what your plan is." Nyx threw her arms in the air dramatically and groaned, "I SWEAR that's not what I was gonna do. To be honest, it's gross that you would even think that, Father. He's another version of you, so ew, no, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole." The guardian's grip on her began to loosen and she scoffed, "And besides, he's not even my type."

Nightmare sighed deeply, "That's right, I forgot. I'm assuming your type consists of idiots named Killer." Nyx's cheekbones gained a faint purple blush and she rolled her eyes, "Oh please, don't insult me like that. I wouldn't touch Killer with a ten foot pole either." Her father hummed, clearly not believing her, "Uh huh, sure. Whatever you say, my little hellion." Nyx let out an irritated huff, her cheekbones still flushed a faint shade of violet as she opened a portal, vanishing through it without looking back. Nightmare was silent as the portal closed behind her, feeling pretty at ease until he heard someone rapidly approaching the open doorway, calling out, "Nyx... Nyxie, hang on a minute, you forgot your-" Killer appeared in the doorway, immediately freezing in place as he noticed Nightmare staring at him, his voice much softer, "...Garter."

He quickly stuffed the lace garment into his pocket, praying his boss hadn't seen it. Judging by the scowl he was wearing, however, he had seen it. Just great. Nightmare growled lowly in agitation, a clear warning that he wasn't in a joking mood, "Tell me, Killer. Do you want to die?" Killer shook his head, "No, Boss." He'd usually pick and tease a little, but when it came to the guardian's daughter, he was completely serious. There was no room at all for any sort of joking, and if Killer tried, the consequences would be deadly. Nightmare hissed, "Then toss that in the trash and get out of my sight." Killer was quick to pull the garter out of his pocket, dropping it into the nearest trash bin before shortcutting away.

#writing #nyx.exe #lady night #conquest.exe #nightmare sans #suggestive #???#would we say Night's part of the riderverse too or?.....#i genuinely don't know #^^"#undertale #undertale au #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 10/?

Part 9

Bit of a content warning for the first section because Martin's Lonely thoughts are starting to feel a little like suicidal ideation, just in case.

"What part of 'don't antagonize Martin' translated into 'go and lie to his landlady to break into his house' to you?" Jon asks that evening. The bus is nearly empty, and Gerry's arm is a comforting weight across his shoulders, a nice contrast against the hard plastic seat.

"I knew he'd tattle," Gerry rolls his eyes. "Go figure, pull a guy out of the Lonely with a nice cup of tea and some good conversation, and the first thing he does is go tell on you with his crush.

Martin bundles himself a little tighter in his coat, as he waits for the kettle to boil. The worst thing about the Lonely is definitely the bone-deep chill that follows wherever you go, no matter how many layers you wear, or how high you crank up the heater. The cold is inside you, and Martin is starting to run out of ways to chase it out.

The kitchenette attached to Peter's office is smaller than the one at the Archives' break room, but also much better equipped; it has a high end coffeemaker and all sorts of coffee and tea sorted in delicately crafted tins. Martin has the thought that he would've been excited to try them all before, but now he just cracks the tin open and pulls out a bag at random. This is just... something else he's supposed to do, like eating, like breathing. It doesn't matter that they don't bring any satisfaction, because nothing really does anymore, when he's like this.

He goes to pour the hot water into a single mug, and drops the bag inside, watching it sink and bob with a curious sense of detachment. It smells like nothing, and it tastes like nothing when he takes a sip. His hands barely even register the warmth of the cup, and Martin places it back at the countertop. He'd expected it would make him feel something, but there goes that hope.

The only spark of emotion comes when he finally listens to the prickle of unease in his chest, and goes to close the small room's exit where it connects with Peter's office. Standing alone behind two locked doors, he almost feels at ease. Nobody can find him here- or they wouldn't, if anyone was looking for him of course. Jon hasn't come to him since the last time they met before the coffin, and Gerard seems to have a supernatural sense to know when Martin just finished an Extinction statement to come pester it out of him.

It's a bit pathetic, that Jon's- that Gerard is the only one who seeks him out, and even then it's only out of necessity. The Lonely likes it, and it likes even more that Martin doesn't feel any special way about it.

Outside, someone walks past the door to Peter's office, and Martin's stomach clenches. The room around him loses a little more color. Maybe… maybe he'll go home early today. Peter won't care; he would probably encourage it, now that Martin thinks about it. Just... it'll be easier there. More quiet. Calmer.

Martin leans his head back, and the room around him begins to dissolve.

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

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Gerry asks with a smile, and Melanie nods, entranced.

"We should find another," she declares. The Flesh book -aptly titled just 'Guts'- burns nicely in a metallic garbage bin between the two of them.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." Gerry snorts. "I've been hearing some rumours about the Desolation. Some weird fires around the city; might be worth taking a look at."

Melanie squirts some more lighter fluid onto the book, delighting when the fire roars and flares up.

"How is it different?" she asks, the question popping suddenly into her mind.

"Sorry?" Gerry arches an eyebrow.

"I know the Desolation is destruction, and Slaughter is violence." It's odd, to talk so freely about the entity that would've claimed her soul; like mentioning someone you knew in passing, one of those who were impossibly important once, but now are just a memory you're not sure how you feel about. "But I wanted to destroy too, when I was- you know."

"I know." Gerry lets out a careful huff, running a hand through his hair. "They tend to bleed into each other, some more than others. Some care about the end result only, like the Desolation, some care about the process, like the Slaughter or the Hunt. Smirke had a good idea with the list, but sometimes I think he oversimplified."

"So what's your take on it?"

"Colors," Gerry shrugs, then adds with a small smile, "if colors hated you."

Melanie has no idea what that's supposed to mean, but his tone makes it fairly clear that it's got something to do with Jon, and she rolls her eyes. Ridiculous, but apparently something she'll have to get used to, considering the sneak peeks she's gotten through the Institute's windows in the past week.

"How's Georgie?" Gerry asks after a moment, once the flames have started dying down. "You've been going out more lately, right?"

"Yes. I'm-" Melanie feels her body tense, and takes a deep breath, until it relaxes again. This- she can tell Gerry this. It's not a big deal. They're- they might be friends, now. "She takes me to therapy. I've been feeling- I added an extra day. I feel like it's working."

Gerry gives her a quick look and a quicker smile, before focusing on the remnants of the burning book again. "That's good. I tried therapy once, but it turns out there is just no way to work 'my mother accidentally framed me for her gruesome murder and then came back to life and continued to stalk me until I handed her over to an old woman to be destroyed' into a credible lie. Not that you would know the difference, of course," he adds with a wink over his shoulder.

"I'll have you know my therapist doesn't suspect a thing, so I'm clearly not as bad of a liar as you think." Melanie rolls her eyes, smiling. There's a certain giddiness to her chest, a kind of light-heartedness she'd almost forgotten.

"Mmmm nah, you're very bad." Gerry reaches a hand towards her, and she passes him the bottle of lighter fluid. He squirts the rest of it in the trash can, unflinching when the flames roar up again, before he turns back to look at Melanie. "But I'm glad it's helping. I'm guessing the after-session dates with your girlfriend are nothing to scoff at either, are they?"

"They help," Melanie's smile turns a little smug. It may be sappy, but she's allowed a bit of happiness, thank you very much.

"I can imagine," Gerry rests his closed fist against her shoulder and gives her a little shove. Melanie kicks at his boot, rolling her eyes.

This is... comfortable. Life is far from perfect, and the number of things that make Melanie happy are still in the single digits but this- this might be one of them.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something..." Melanie starts after the fire has died down again and the relaxed silence has stretched for a few minutes, making her voice as casual as possible. "Remember when you told us that you fed on Jon's voice? Recharging a battery, kind of?"

"I... do?" Gerry looks down at her with an arched eyebrow.

"Okay. And remember that other time you told me there was nothing going on with Jon, but you let me believe that so I didn't find out you were leeching on him to survive?"

"Ah." Gerry averts his eyes, and the line of his shoulders stiffens. Melanie frowns, puzzled; it's been a while since she's had any friends to joke with, but this is most definitely not the mood she was trying to set up. "I didn't want any trouble, Melanie. You and Basira were very on board with killing me that first day because you thought I wasn't human, and I was just- well, I knew if you got actual confirmation of that, then-"

"Oh- oh no, that's not what I'm talking about," Melanie shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "I get why you did that. You were right, too, I would've killed you," she shrugs.

Gerry turns to look at her again, amused and confused in equal measure. "Okay? So what's this about then?"

"I just wanted to ask," Melanie struggles a little to keep her face blank now that she's put them back on track. "Do you also feed on holding hands with Jon, or is that just so he doesn't get lost into another entity when you're on your way from the bus stop?"

Gerry freezes when her words register in his mind, his face a carefully blank mask whose only emotion lies in the slight panic brewing behind his eyes.

"I-"

"Yes?" Melanie lifts her eyebrows, nodding along with pursed lips. The flush starting to darken his cheekbones is fascinating to watch, a much deeper hue than would correspond to his skin tone, probably on account of the ink that runs through his veins.

"Have you been- listen, we have- the fires." Gerry turns abruptly to start walking away from the smoldering can, and Melanie smirks. "We should look into it, could be a new avatar."

"Mhm. Alright. Just a little question I had, don't let it keep you up at night." Melanie follows, not even angry that she has to trot to keep up with him.

"I won't."

"Good, good."

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

"You're far too early. Nothing to find today?" Jon looks up when the door to his office is pushed open, a smile already on his lips. Gerry shrugs, taking his jacket off. Jon's gaze trails over the burn-smooth skin of Gerry's arms, the tattooed eyes at his elbows seeming to almost look at him when Gerry's muscles contract and stretch as he moves to hang the jacket by Jon's coat.

"Hello there?" Gerry asks, and Jon's eyes snap up his face. He's got an amused smile and a raised eyebrow, and Jon whips his burning face back down to his statement. "Melanie's busy today, so I did some recon by myself, but there's nothing tangible asides from Rayner's freaks."

"This is- yes, alright." He's not terribly worried about the Church of the Divine Host, he thinks, his fist clenching tightly around the pen he's using to make annotations on the statement; they cannot come into his Archives, because they won't risk being Seen. It still irks him that they dare come this close to the Institute, like a taunt to-

"What are you working on?" Gerry's long, black hair curtains down by the side of Jon's face, and all thoughts of Seeing the Darkness into oblivion evaporate from his mind.

"I just- I'm going over old statements," Jon clears his throat. "I'm trying to find anything that feels like the Extinction."

"I see... Found anything yet?" Gerry leans closer to look at the paper on the desk, and Jon freezes at the warmth at his back.

"I don't-" this is where Jon admits he hasn't been able to focus for the past three hours, isn't it? "Martin left early yesterday. And he didn't come to work today."

"Ah," Gerry sighs, before retreating to go sit across the desk. His eyes are soft and sympathetic, because it's just Jon's luck to be surrounded by good, caring people that he doesn't deserve. "How did you-"

"I just Knew it. I think- I think it was too much today." Jon averts his gaze again; Gerry's gentle concern is too much to deal with, what with everything that's been tumbling around in his head. "Which is why I'm looking into this, but the Watcher doesn't seem to be too interested in the new competitor." Jon scowls down at his desk. No helpful tidbits from the Eye either when picking out statements to revisit, or when going over things he already knew.

"Hey." Gerry slides a warm, heavy hand on top of Jon's, and Jon, because he's a selfish coward, doesn't move away. "You're doing what you can. We all are, Martin too."

Jon nods slowly, after a moment. Martin is- Martin knows what he's doing. He's far from stupid or weak, Jon knows that now. Even though he's still human, Martin moves through this world of fears with a sense of cunning and determination that Jon couldn't even begin to emulate, despite being a key player himself.

"I must admit, I... it's nice that you have changed your mind about him." Gerry hasn't told him what brought on the change, but Jon finds that he doesn't care. It's just one less thing to be worried about.

Gerry shrugs, giving his hand a squeeze. "Turns out we have a few things in common."

"You do." Jon nods; that much has been clear to him for a while. A fatal flaw that bears his name and his face.

Gerry's gaze is heavy on him, far from the usual playfulness in their interactions, and Jon feels his heartbeat start racing.

"Jon, we-"

"Jon?" the door opens again, and Daisy pokes her head through. "Oh. Sorry."

"No, it's- do you need anything, Daisy?" Jon asks, extricating his hand from Gerry's in the softest movement he can manage.

"I can come back later," Daisy shrugs.

"Actually, let's trade." Gerry pushes off his chair, and onto his feet. "You stay here. I'll see you when it's time to go home." He doesn't seek Jon's eyes when he says this, moving instead to grab his jacket and shove his arms through the sleeves.

"Careful," Jon mutters quietly.

Gerry stops at the door, his shoulders dropping in what might be a sigh, and he turns to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes softening just the slightest amount. "...Yeah. Yeah, you too."

And he's gone.

Daisy comes in once the sound of Gerry's boots stomping against the Institute's polished floors fades from earshot. "That was very dramatic."

Jon crosses his arms over his chest. "No, it wasn't."

Daisy rolls her eyes. "You're making this too big of a deal, just like the monster thing."

"I- excuse me?" Jon's face goes slack in disbelief, but Daisy merely leans a hip against his desk, looking down at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Poor, poor Jon, with these two men who lo-"

"Daisy! We don't- there's no-" Jon sputters, as it becomes increasingly clear he doesn't have anything to say, and just wanted to stop her from finishing the thought. "What did you need?"

Daisy shrugs. "Basira went to see Elias, and Melanie's out too."

"I see..." Jon sighs; the only reasons he's able to brave being alone are both the fact that recording statements keeps the walls from closing in, and the terrifying knowledge that Gerry would stay in the office just to keep him company if he asked. "Well I- it's good that you came. I need your opinion on something."

As soon as it becomes clear that she's wanted here, Daisy's entire body relaxes; Jon smiles to himself as she goes to take the seat Gerry left. Daisy deserves some kindness, she's just... another victim. He's the only one who chose this.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Did yo- have you seen Martin lately?" Jon reaches into a desk drawer for a tape recorder that wasn't there a minute ago. This one, he Knows, will contain Martin's recording on the Extinction.

"Not really. Where is he?" Daisy frowns.

Jon's eyes fall to the recorder in his hand. He doesn't know if he feels guiltier for Knowing about Martin, or for not going to him after what he found out.

"Taking a break from all of this, hopefully."

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

"-tin Blackwood? Yes, he lives here. We haven't seen him in a few weeks, though." The woman's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Did he die?"

Gerry snorts. God forbid landlords have any tact. He thinks back at one of the many things he learned about Martin while trying to Know the address to his flat.

"No, he's fine. But he had to go out of town for a while, because his mother passed away." He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to look solemn. "I'm going to go stay with him for a few days, but he wanted me to pick up his phone and some other things for him."

"I see... and who are you again?" The woman asks; the mistrust is a fair response, honestly, considering what Gerry's here to do.

"Well, you know..." he gives her a little smile and a non-committal gesture, pointing at himself and an imaginary Martin by his side. Whatever, it worked with Melanie and Basira, it'll fool a random landlady.

"Ah. Huh." The woman runs her eyes over him, evaluating him under the light of the new revelation; Gerry probably -hopefully- doesn't look anything like a self deprecating mop that specializes in giving off mixed signals and avoiding necessary conversations, but this woman clearly doesn't know Martin enough to know his tastes, because she just shrugs. "Then don't you have a key already?"

"Oh yes, I have one,' Gerry hurries to say. "He just wanted me to tell you that he's, you know, coming back and-" and here he crosses a leg over the other, bringing a knee up against the desk with enough force that the landlady's mug topples over the edge and spills its contents on her lap. "Oh shit, I'm sorry! Did you-"

"I'm alright," the woman says through gritted teeth, her skirt dripping lukewarm coffee on the carpeted floor when she climbs to her feet.

"I'm really sorry," Gerry apologizes again, but the woman is already heading towards the door without sparing him a glance. Good.

He Knows she keeps the spare keys in the bottom left drawer of the desk, and it only takes him a couple seconds lto find the one labeled with the number to Martin's flat, before unhooking it from the ring and pushing the drawer closed again.

By the time the woman comes back, patting at her damp lap with a towel, Gerry's already sitting back on his chair, sporting his best apprehensive look. "Did you need anything else?" she snaps.

"No, I'm just-"

"Sorry, yes. Thank you, could you leave?" the landlady's lips are pursed into a tense line. "I need to change."

"Yes! Sorry, I'll just-" he hops to his feet, crossing the office hurriedly. "Sorry!" Gerry apologises again before she closes the office door in his face, and he smiles. That's one less thing to worry about.

Martin's door opens easily enough with the key, and fog spills out like some sort of cheap haunted house trick. Not great, Gerry decides. The interior is freezing cold, and he bundles a bit tighter in his jacket, before closing the door behind him. There's a picture of a woman on a small table by the door, right behind the key bowl, and Gerry remembers the tape he listened to, with Elias' cruel, mocking voice and Martin's pained, choked back sobs.

It's a little selfish, but it's nice to know that Gerry's not the only one who can't bring himself to get rid of the memory of a mother who never loved him.

"Martin?" he calls out, bundling himself tighter in his clothes. "Are you-"

"What are you doing in my flat?!" Martin says by his side, where Gerry's pretty sure he wasn't a second ago. "How did you get in here?"

"It was open," Gerry shrugs. Martin looks... gray. His eyes, his hair, even his skin seems desaturated, blending in against the muted hues of his lightless flat.

"No it wasn't." Martin says firmly, and a bit of green starts seeping back into his eyes. Gerry lets out a relieved exhale. He's not too far gone, yet. "In fact, I made sure it was locked, because I've been being stalked lately."

"That sounds terrible," Gerry says, and because it seems like Martin is gaining more and more color the more exasperated he grows, he walks past him into what turns out to be the kitchen. "Want me to beat them up for you? I'll do it, just point me at 'em. Do you have coffee here? I'm not much for tea."

"I don't- why are you here?!" Martin sputters angrily, closing the cupboard doors Gerry purposefully leaves open as he moves down the room. "I'm not exactly going to record Extinction statements at home!"

"Well, I'm not here for that." Gerry gives him another look. He looks mostly solid now, enough that it might be a good time to let him know. "Jon was worried about you, so I came to check how you were."

"...Oh." Martin's flustered face goes slack at the news, and Gerry snorts. These two are the freaking same. "I- does he know?"

"That you're trying to save the world?" Gerry arches an eyebrow. "Or that you're doing it for him?" that has Martin's face regaining the color it was lacking.

"Both, I guess," Martin mutters, bringing a hand to rub at his arm nervously. "...I think I do have coffee, but it's- I don't drink it, I just had it for when Sasha- for when friends came over. I don't know if it's any good."

"I've probably had worse." Gerry knows what it's like to be alone. He's been that way for most of his life, but it's... he chose to live like that, it was never a burden for him. Here, as Martin talks of friends ripped from him by a world that feeds on despair, he feels a pang of sadness for this man who clearly didn't. "I have an hour before I have to go get Jon."

"Alright," Martin lets out a noise between a sigh and a groa, before he finally moves towards the cupboards again, and starts pulling out mugs and tins and spoons. "But you have to tell me how you got in."

"I'll let you guess," Gerry smirks as he sits at the breakfast table.

"How is he?" comes Martin's voice amidst the clinking of metal and porcelain. There's a careful quality to it, like he thinks he's not allowed to ask, and Gerry sighs.

"He's alright. Very defensive when we talk about his rib-related choices."

The sound of a mug dropped on the countertop, and Martin spins around. "Excuse me, his what?"

Gerry arches an eyebrow. "I hadn't told you? Could've sworn I mentioned it when we spoke about the marks." He wipes a hand under his nose, but it comes away ink-free. Edging around the topic is okay then, good to know.

"I don't- you didn't mention any ribs," Martin's voice is this close to a groan, Gerry notes with a smile. "What did he do now?"

"You better finish making that tea, you're going to need it."

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

The door to the cell slams shut, and Elias rolls his eyes. Frankly... he'd known Peter wasn't in the best of moods, but this is childish.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to either calm down or leave."

"How are you doing it?" Peter lands heavily on the chair across the table, blue eyes stormy with badly concealed rage and a muscle twitching on his jaw. Elias tries, he really does, but he can't hold back a snort. "Elias!"

"I'm sorry, sorry," Elias chuckles. "It's just amusing, really, that you seem to think I have the power to stop your puppeteering from in here. You mistake me for the Web's own, Peter."

He gives him the smile he knows Peter despises, just the slightest curve to his lips, and a single arched eyebrow.

"Don't play coy with me, Elias. Martin was progressing incredibly well, and all of a sudden he's stuck? Don't pretend you had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, but I didn't!" Elias reaches over to pull out the scotch bottle and the two tumblers, and Peter's hand closes around his wrist with bruising strength. "I'm afraid I did warn you the Watcher wouldn't let its own go so easily."

"How?" Peter's eyes narrow as his grip tightens even more. "I will not ask again, Elias."

Elias laughs, amused. Peter is awfully easy to rile up- if you know how to play him, and Elias has had decades to learn.

"Tell me something Peter... what do you know of Gertrude's last ill-fated assistant?"

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

There's a person standing across the street from the Institute. They're wearing dark clothes, and over their chest rests a pendant fashioned to look like a closed eye. It's a ridiculous notion, to come to the tower of the Ceaseless Watcher, and believe their god will protect them here.

Jon comes to a stop before the Institute's doors, the taste of Markus Burnett's encounter with the End still fresh in his mind, and considers crossing the street towards them. It would certainly send a message to the rest of-

"Jon?" the voice is puzzled and soft, and it feels like a curtain is lifted from Jon's mind, as he sees the person scurry away; he turns to find Martin looking down at him in concern. "Are you alright? Oh- your... your eyes."

"Ah- yes I just- it's-" Jon gestures vaguely towards the spot where his would-be victim was just standing.

"Oh. That's- that's not good, is it?" Martin frowns. "It's probably good you didn't-"

"I wasn't going to. Or- I hope I wasn't," Jon scowls as well. He definitely wanted to. He can still feel Martin's eyes on him, but for all that he's fantasized about this encounter, he can't think of anything to say. "You look better."

"I guess." Martin's frown melts into a mask of dry resignation. "Gerard broke into my flat two days ago. He won't tell me how he did it."

Of course, the Eye chooses that moment to let him Know exactly how Gerry got a key to Martin's flat, and Jon feels his face grow warm. It's a bit of a whiplash mood, to go from preparing to Behold a person to thinking about- yes, okay.

"I- yes. He does that," Jon clears his throat, "keep him away from your sofa."

"I'll keep that in mind. Just-" Martin gives a nervous look around, and Jon frowns.

"He's not around." Jon says, the static rising in his ears as he Sees both what Martin wants, and the answer to it. It still feels odd to use his powers willingly, but he'll do it for Martin anytime. "He's on his way back from meeting Elias."

"Oh- okay?" Martin blinks. "Thanks. I- he can't do that, Jon."

"Peter-?"

"Gerard." Martin's face grows pained, serious. "Peter is- he's happy I'm going along with his plan. If Gerard keeps trying to meddle in... I made a deal, and I have to keep it. Please tell him to leave me alone."

"Martin, you don't have to-"

"But I am," Martin sighs. "You said you'd respect that."

And he does, he really does respect the sacrifice Martin is making, but- but watching him hurt himself is just too much. This is the first time Martin has looked like himself in months, and Jon is suddenly confronted with just how much he's missed him.

"I'll talk to him." Jon says, before anything else can get out. "I'm- I'm sorry, Martin."

Martin nods wordlessly, before turning back to walk into the Institute. Jon watches him go, a million things he should've said running across his mind now that they're utterly, completely useless.

I dreamt of you in the Buried. Thank you for the tapes. You don't have to be strong all the time, please let me help you. I miss you so much it scares me, but it's a kind of fear I want to feel, the kind of fear I'd dedicate my life to.

None of it matters, because by the time Jon walks in after him, all that's left of Martin are a couple wisps of fog.

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

"I knew he'd tattle," Gerry rolls his eyes. "Go figure, pull a guy out of the Lonely with a nice cup of tea and some good conversation, and the first thing he does is go tell on you with his crush. You didn't tell him I had the key, did you? I don't want him to change the locks."

"I did not." Jon rolls his eyes. "But you can't- Gerry, I promised I'd leave him alone."

"And you did. Very respectful of his boundaries."

"And you should do so too. We're- we agreed we'd investigate about the Extinction so he didn't have to do everything on his own, not that we'd intrude on his plan."

"It's not a great plan, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask." Jon slaps lightly at Gerry's thigh with the back of his hand. "Listen, I trust Martin-"

"And I trust him too, sure. But I'm not going to- I can't just leave it alone, Jon." Gerry turns to look at him, and Jon -as he often does- finds himself distracted by the lights of the street outside gleaming off the metallic rings and beads on his face. "I'm not going to let them win. Not if I can help it, especially with someone they seem as hell-bent on getting as Martin."

Jon sighs. Of course he won't; Gerry's far too stubborn, far too-

"Just- Martin knows what he's doing."

"And I know what I'm doing too." Gerry shrugs, his shoulders set and his brow furrowed. "I'm not- I can't exactly stop him from aligning with the Lonely if that's what he wants. I'm just slowing it down. Getting us more time."

"And what happens when Peter Lukas finds out you're breaking into his flat to sit him down for tea?"

"Well, he doesn't have to find out," Gerry says, smirking. The gesture leaves the ring on his lower lip just the slightest bit off-center, Jon realizes. He runs his tongue over his own bottom lip, that feels too dry all of a sudde. "As far as anyone knows, it was just a very considerate man looking out for his partner."

"You can't possibly believe that was anywhere close to a good lie," Jon hisses, trying his best to ignore the fact that he doesn't know if he's annoyed or just embarrassed by the ruse.

"It's not unbelievable. Anyone could be my boyfriend," Gerry shrugs. "Martin could have good taste."

"I very much think he doesn't." Jon grumbles.

"I think he does, actually," Gerry's arm gives his shoulders a squeeze that has Jon's face burning, "besides, the position is open."

Jon coughs. "This is our stop," he says, ignoring the way Gerry rolls his eyes before climbing to his feet.

The conversation is pretty much over after that, but Jon finds -as he usually does, lately- that he has to let go of Gerry's hand to pull the keys out of his pocket.

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

"Did you do your exercises today?"

Daisy exhales slowly, her hands on her stomach and her gaze nailed to the ceiling. The cot she shares with Basira feels small at the best of times, but now under her too-heavy stare, it's like laying on a coffin, waiting for the lid to be slammed down again.

"They won't work."

"What?" Basira doesn't come closer, doesn't sit by the edge of the cot, and Daisy feels more and more like a disgusting, wasted carcass of her old self.

"The exercises. I- it's not going to work." The truth of her words weighs on her, the call of her blood begging her to follow, to lose herself again. "The only way I'm going to get better is if I hunt again, and I don't- I'm not doing that."

In the long silence that follows, Daisy darts a quick look at Basira. She's standing by the door, her white-knuckled hand shaking around the crumpled edge of a bag of Daisy's favorite takeout.

"There has to be another way," she says in the end. "What are we supposed to do, just wait for you to die?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Elias?" Daisy shrugs. There's a dark pang of delight in her stomach when Basira stiffens, and she sighs. Not exactly a chase, but the Hunt will feed wherever it can. "I'm sorry."

"Do you think I haven't?" Basira's voice is tense and hurt. "Do you think I haven't spent every waking moment since you came out trying to find a way to make you-"

"Back to how I was?" Daisy says quietly, and the way it's enough to stop Basira's rising tirade really says a lot.

"That is not what I want," Basira forces through gritted teeth.

"But it's what you need, isn't it?" After a moment's hesitation, Daisy pushes up into a sitting position, and turns to face Basira. "You were there when I needed you, and now I can't do that for you."

"This is not- I don't keep a tally, Daisy." Basira finally takes a firm step forward and then another and another, until she's standing so close Daisy could reach her if she stretched her arm. She doesn't. "I don't have- I'm just trying to keep everyone from dying, or-"

Basira's voice breaks, and Daisy flinches, eyes wide. In their years working together, she can count on one hand the times she's seen her lose control.

"You were gone," she snaps, "you were dead, I mourned you. I had to- there was no one else. Everyone was dead, Melanie was more and more unstable, and Martin was doing his secretive bullshit. What was I supposed to do? I was the only one. If I gave up, then it was like letting Elias win, and I was not going to let that happen."

"Basira-"

"Of course I wanted you back. As soon as that lying worm told me there might be a way to pull you out, I-"

"I heard your voice in the Buried."

Basira freezes. She looks- Daisy has been her partner for years, and the thing with her is, Basira always knows what to do. Even when she doesn't, she knows what should be done next. Never a second guess or a moment of doubt, or anything less than cold, hard certainty. Now Basira looks lost, and Daisy can only wonder what that means for her, who's always depended on Basira's solidity to ground herself.

"I'm- I want to be here for you. I want to help, Basira, but I can't- I don't want to go back to the Hunt. Or rather, I want it too much, and I know I won't-" Daisy groans. She's never been good with words, one would think spending an eternity with the Archivist would've helped, but apparently it's too much to wish for. "I just want to be myself, for however long I can. I'm- sorry it's not what you-"

Basira crashes against her, and Daisy feels her breath leave her all at once, as they topple over onto the cot, the crumpled falafel bag landing on the floor to be forgotten.

"I'll figure something out," Basira's breath is hot against her shoulder. Daisy can smell her coconut shampoo through her headscarf, and it's all she can do to hold her tighter, because they live in a world in which these moments are fleeting and fragile, and all the more precious for it. "For this. For you."

Daisy nods furiously, her eyes shut tight and her blood singing an entirely different song.

"Basira," she says, the only word she knows, the only word that matters.

Basira nods like she understands, and Daisy can't bring herself to care about anything else.

#jongerrymartin #vit writes #illicio

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sicparvismorrigan · 3 years

Text

Crisis of Faith

The will of God brings a young and impressionable Trinity soldier to the attention of Commander Konstantin.

Tomb Raider/Rise of the Tomb Raider/Konstantin

Viewpoint: 3rd person female Trinity soldier OC

Warnings: blood, descriptions of violence, PTSD, religious fanaticism, stigmata

Word count: ~2.5k [complete]

A short fic I wrote because I wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side.

Read on Ao3

Death.

Ailish sat up on her cot, freezing cold. She was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. It was pitch black in the gulag and she tried to slow her breathing so she wouldn’t wake her comrades. She listened carefully, there was snoring coming from all directions. Nobody had heard her, not yet.

She was safe. She was surrounded by big men with weapons, nothing could hurt her here. All the prisoners were securely locked up. Ailish reached down and felt the comforting cool steel of her own pistol in its holster.

She breathed in deep and counted 1...2...3... before breathing out again. Her pulse was still racing and she could feel her heart trying to leap out of her ribcage.

Safe. I’m safe.

It had been nearly two years since Yamatai and Ailish still had nightmares. She knew exactly what it was: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had heard the guys talk, knew some of them struggled too. She had seen a few get discharged because of it. She’d spent a long time trying to convince herself she was fine. But in fact, she really wasn’t.

She needed air. Ailish quietly got out of her cot and shrugged on a few more layers before making sure her pistol was strapped to her body, just in case. She tiptoed past the guys by the light from her torch, and made her way out to the old guardhouse that was their temporary mess area. She just wanted some space to calm down.

Empty, thank God. The embers of the fire were enough to keep the warmth going. She pulled up a chair and settled in to watch the glow.

She kept replaying the last moments of her nightmare over and over in her head, despite trying her best to push it away. They were in that god-awful pit again, suffocating from the fumes. She checked ahead and yelled Clear! back to her second, Charlie. As he moved past her she heard something big land on the rock of the cavern floor behind them. Charlie swung back around and screamed at her to get down as a God-awful roar filled the cave, rattling her bones. He raised his gun to fire and Ailish shrieked at him stopitsgonnablow-

bang bang

BOOM

A flash of white light, then darkness. Waking up in terror once again from the memories that haunted her every night. At least she was alive, she had made it out. Charlie hadn’t, she couldn’t save him. She still blamed herself. The guys had tried to convince her again and again it was an accident, but she should have been there. In her dreams, she’d seen Charlie die a hundred times over, each more horrible than the last.

She had never been so close to quitting as she had after Yamatai. She had composed her resignation letter in her head on the helicopter ride back to civilization, but had never written it. Something told her it wasn’t time yet. She’d spent just over three years working with Trinity at that point and never questioned her beliefs before the clean-up mission to that hellhole. By all accounts it was even worse during the Nishimura expedition. She shuddered, it didn’t bear thinking about, how anyone could survive there for any length of time she’d never know. So many bodies. And in some places, the smell, it was unholy.

It didn’t help her sleep at night, but at least she had got a promotion out of it. The salary was great, which was a major reason for her staying put. Ailish was trying to help her parents put her younger sister through Yale, and every cent counted. Her mom and dad had just been grateful, and thankfully hadn’t yet asked where the money had come from. She didn’t want to have to lie. They’d hit the roof if they ever found out. As far as they were concerned, she was still working as a paralegal in Chicago. God, she missed her sister. She hadn’t seen her in months, and now Ailish was off-grid in Siberia. Freezing cold, snowy, desolate Siberia.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice outside. A deep voice, American accent. It sounded a lot like the Commander. She really hoped he wouldn’t come into the guardhouse. He was intimidating, and she’d never been in a room alone with him before. He sounded like he was talking on the phone.

“...and what did the doctor say?”

...

“Okay...Ana, are you smoking?”

...

“Yeah, I know, but-“

...

“Listen, she’s on the move. She may even already be in Siberia. I need you back here.”

...

“Got it, see you soon.”

Who was Ana? Was it his wife, girlfriend, daughter? Who was the other ‘she’ he was talking about?

Ailish heard footsteps coming up to the door and the latch lifting. Oh boy, here we go. I wasn’t eavesdropping, Commander, I swear.

He stopped dead when she saw her at the table. Obviously not expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour. He slid the cellphone he was carrying into a pocket and nodded at her before closing the door behind him. “Sergeant.”

“Evening-“ Ailish checked her watch. “Ah, morning, Commander. Sorry, sir. I’ll get out of your way.” She slid her chair back to leave.

“Stay. You were here first.” Ailish sat back down immediately, wide-eyed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, sir.” Not strictly true but she didn’t want to feel like a little schoolkid telling her superior she had a bad dream.

“Likewise.” He pulled up the chair opposite her and sat down with a sigh.

Something was bothering him, he seemed fidgety. Ailish didn’t really know what to do so she started twiddling her thumbs and rambling to fill the silence. “Gee, the weather’s really turned these past few days, huh? Ha ha...kind of makes me wish we were back in Syria. Although it was almost too hot-“

He cut her off. “Moscovitch, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re not on duty, you don’t have to call me sir.”

“Uh- yes. Okay, si- eh...Command- uhmm...”

“Konstantin is fine.”

“Okay.” It felt weird. Ailish wasn’t even sure if that was his first or last name. “You can call me Ailish. It’s slightly less of a mouthful than Moscovitch.”

“Don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah, it’s a weird one...my parents have always had this fascination with Ireland. It means ‘noble and kind’ or something like that...I dunno...”

He looked at her for a long moment. Ailish opened her mouth to speak again when a wolf howled up in the mountains. She grabbed for her pistol and her other hand tightened on the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

Konstantin saw her reaction and frowned. “Relax, it’s just a wolf, they don’t come down here-“

“Yeah, I know.” She started hyperventilating and bit her lip hard to fight back the tears. For God’s sake, don’t cry in front of the Commander. She hated hearing the wolves at night. Rationally, she knew they were miles away, but the sound still caused her pain.

For a moment she was back on Yamatai, wedged in a rocky crevice listening to the snarling as they hunted for her. The smell of rain, tree sap and decay all around. Her hands shaking as she pointed her rifle at the opening, just waiting for jaws and teeth to emerge around the corner and grab at her.

“Oh, shit.” This was going to be a bad episode. She’d had panic attacks increasingly often and could spot the signs of one approaching. Fortunately they usually hit when she was alone or could sneak away, but now she had no such luxury. Ailish knew this one had her beat.

Konstantin’s mouth tightened. “Language.”

She had time to blurt out “Terribly sorry sir!” before she slid off the chair onto the floor and crawled under the table.

The tears were now pouring out and rolling down her cheeks. What an embarrassment. She’d fought so hard to prove she was equal to the guys, and now she was being a silly little girl.

She felt the Commander’s boot gently tapping her back. “Mos- Ailish? Are you okay?”

“I will be, in a minute.” She panted.

Through the panic she heard the other chair scraping backwards. To her surprise Konstantin crouched and got down to her level under the table, facing her. Was he supposed to do that?

“You’ve normally got it together, Moscovitch.” Oh no, back on a last name basis. She’d definitely messed up. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Ailish shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just need a sec.”

The only sounds in the room were her panting and the low crackle of logs in the burner. She felt his gloved hand on her shoulder.

He quietly spoke. “Listen, I read the Yamatai report.” It was strange, how calming his voice was.

Ailish looked up, misty-eyed. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I didn’t know they’d be sending a woman.”

“I’m just as capable-“

“Quiet. I’m saying it’s impressive you completed the mission, and even led part of the way, that place sounded like a nightmare.”

“It was.” Charlie, I should have saved you.

“And I am sorry you lost Corporal Collins. I know you were close.”

“Yeah...” she sniffed loudly. Her heart still hurt, so much. “He was like a brother. Charlie would have done anything for me. And I would have done the same for him.”

His eyes softened. “I know what that’s like.”

It meant a lot to Ailish, getting commiserations from a Trinity leader. Normally, you could forget about that sort of thing. Rourke had co-ordinated the Yamatai mission and hadn’t said a word to her when he had met them back on the mainland for debriefing. Dominguez had been silent too, though he had been one of those who had approved her promotion. They could be a heartless, insensitive bunch sometimes.

But she hadn’t expected the Commander to have a soft side. He actually reminded her of Charlie. Konstantin had a scarred-up face but there were similarities for sure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, they walked with the same purpose. He wasn’t bad-looking actually, as long as the light was dim.

Ailish eventually rallied and crawled back into her chair, still breathing quickly. Konstantin sat down too, regarding her with something akin to concern.

“Tell me the real reason you’re here by yourself in the middle of the night.”

She swallowed hard. “I...I have nightmares still.”

He shook his head. “I think you should talk to someone about this. If you’re serious about staying with Trinity. It would be a shame to bail out now that you’re a Sergeant.”

“I’m fine.” Ailish mumbled.

“You’re really not. I know someone who might be able to help, a doctor.”

“No, honestly...” Please no doctors, they might kick her out. She needed the money for Ellen’s tuition, she had to stay.

“I trust her, she’s with Trinity. Her name’s Wilkens. If I order you to see her you can’t say no.”

“Then I suppose it’s settled.” Great, just great.

“Indeed.”

He suddenly pulled his gloves off and took her hand in his. Ailish fought not to pull back out of his grasp. Was this really appropriate? Her free hand was reaching for her pistol when she realised he was just checking her pulse.

“Much better. Almost back to normal.”

She managed a small smile. “Thank you Commander.”

Ailish realised her hand felt strange under his, like a bug was crawling on her. She glanced down and started. “Your...uh, your hand is bleeding.”

Fresh blood was running down between her fingers onto the table. It was creepy as hell, she tried not to shiver. She’d been a bit squeamish about blood since she’d seen a literal underground river of it in Japan.

He didn’t react, just looked straight into her eyes. Ailish didn’t know what he expected her to do. She could still feel it trickling down her skin. Was he not alarmed that his hand had just started pouring blood? She was becoming visibly uncomfortable when he finally answered her.

“They’re old wounds. It happens sometimes.” He held up his other hand, palm facing towards her. “See?” That one was also dripping crimson.

Ailish almost gagged. Ugh, now she knew why he wore gloves all the time, even in the heat of Syria. What was the name for those wounds? Stigmata, or something like that. A sign of divine favour, apparently.

The urge to ask how he got them was overwhelming. Actually, she better not, it was maybe a touchy subject. The Commander could be...violent. She’d seen what he could do when he was pissed off. She had the fleeting thought that maybe he would hurt her, or worse, if the mood took him. Everyone else was asleep, who would know?

He spoke, jolting her back to reality. “Did you pray on Yamatai, Ailish?”

She nodded, not breaking the eye contact. “Yes sir, for my life, almost constantly.”

“And you truly believe in what we are trying to accomplish?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmmm...”

There was a long pause, he seemed to be having an internal conversation she wasn’t privy to. Finally he nodded. “Keep your faith, Ailish. You have already been tested, and you’re still here. I believe you are destined for something greater, like myself.”

“Sir?”

He smiled at her, but it was cold and calculating, he reminded her of a shark. His eyes were suddenly dark and empty.

“The name Ailish is Celtic, yes. But did you know it has a different meaning in Hebrew?”

“You know Hebrew?” She asked in surprise. He ignored her.

“Your name means consecrated to God.”

She wasn’t sure she liked his train of thought. Ailish knew he was one of the more devout members of Trinity, but she didn’t know how deep it ran.

“I’m sorry, Commander, I’m not sure what you’re getting at...”

“I want to keep a closer eye on you, Sergeant. You report directly to me now, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“And let me talk to Wilkens. We’ll help you, don’t skip out on Trinity yet.” He finally let go of her bloodstained hand. Ailish could smell it, metallic.

Konstantin stood up, pulling his gloves on. “I have a feeling we’re going to need you for something important.”

Ailish was dumbfounded, what had she agreed to? She didn’t like not knowing, but the Commander wasn’t a man you just said no to.

As he opened the door with a blast of cold air Konstantin turned back, giving her that empty smile again. “Get some sleep, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

“O...kay.” The door clicked shut, and he was gone.

Ailish glanced down at the mess on her hand. She felt like she’d been marked in some way.

Stigmata.

What did he mean?

Consecrated to God. What was it that Konstantin, or some other higher power had planned for her?

What was her purpose?

***

Thank you for reading!

~ Anyone who has read Behind Trinity Lines will recognise the character of Dr. Joanna Wilkens, I couldn’t not include her somehow! She is awesome and I love her. All credit to @BrittanyTheScrivener on Ao3 for Jo’s character. Her work is brilliant, if you haven’t read it I highly suggest you do

~ Sergeant Ailish Moscovitch, her family and Corporal Charlie Collins are my characters, all other characters mentioned are property of the Tomb Raider creative team and I take no ownership of them

~ I feel I should mention that nothing in this work is intended to cause offence or be blasphemous in any way. I myself am not religious at all but I am respectful of those who choose to be and anything I’ve written is only exploring character traits already displayed in the Tomb Raider video games

~ I have no current plans to update this with more chapters, it was intended to be a one-shot. I just really wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side. But if there is interest I might continue the story...what exactly does Konstantin have planned for Ailish? Where does she fit in with the events in Rise of the Tomb Raider? What will Ana think of her? What would happen if Ailish and Lara ever crossed paths? This could get interesting...

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maribatshipper · 3 years

Text

Ice Age Chapter 4

Y/N bundles Junior in some blankets so he'll go to sleep.

"Why do you do that?" Diego asks.

Y/N answers, "A couple of reasons. The biggest reason is so he'll be warm. The other one is because I usually end up with my blankets used for keeping me warm on the other side of my bed because I kick in my sleep sometimes. Who knows if he'll do it too?"

Diego shrugs and lies down to sleep. Manny picks up the baby and wraps him in his trunk. Y/N smiles and wraps herself up in the leftover blankets.

"Oh, the triumphant return." Manny frowns.

Y/N looks up to see Sid. She giggles.

"How about a good nights kiss for your big buddy Sid?" Sid asks.

"Shh! He's asleep!" Manny frowns as Y/N stares in deadpan.

Sid frowns, "I was talking to you."

Y/N whispers, "Sorry. Don't think you're Manny's type. You aren't mine either, Sloth."

Sid frowns, "Fine. I'll tuck myself in."

He then tries to sleep on a rock. Making lots of noise. Y/N growls as the noise gets louder.

"Will you stop it!?" Manny whisper-yells.

"Cut it out before I rip your tonsils out through your nose!" Y/N threatens, her voice slightly deeper, scaring the crap out of Sid.

Sid stops and frowns, "Alright, alright. Just trying to relax."

Y/N groans as she tucks her head underneath the covers.

"You know what Diego's going to do, right?" E/N asks.

Y/N nods.

"And you're not gonna do anything about it?" E/N asks.

Y/N mentally replies, "Nothing to do. He'll come around. Now go to sleep, E/N."

Y/N yawns and falls asleep, feeling safe and secure.

***

Diego opens his green eyes and walks over Junior in Manny's trunk. He goes to take the baby when Sid makes a noise, startling Diego. Diego goes to grab Junior only for him to move slightly, causing Diego to stop, and Manny tightens his grip around Junior. Suddenly, he hears something in the tall grass. He jumps towards the creature raising his claw to strike only to stop and see one of his pack.

"What the?" He whispers.

"Go ahead, slice me! It'll be the last thing you ever do!" The tiger growls.

Diego growls, "I'm working here, you waste of fur."

"Frustrated Diego?" Another Saber asks. "Tracking down helpless infants too difficult for you?"

Diego gets off the other Saber and asks, "What are you two doing here?"

"Soto's getting tired of waiting."

The slightly insane one replies, "Yeah yeah, he said, "Come back with the baby, or don't come back at all!" Hahaha!"

Diego deadpans at the insane Saber and frowns, "Well I have a message for Soto. Tell him I'm bringing the baby. And tell him, I'm bringing... a mammoth."

"A mammoth?"

"Mammoths never travel alone."

Diego replies, "Well this one does. And I'm leading him to half peak."

The insane one smiles, "Look at all that meat! Let's get him!"

Diego stops him, "Not yet! We'll need the whole pack to bring this mammoth down. Get everyone ready. Now."

The sabres run off and Diego lies down next to the bundle of blankets Y/N hides underneath. Y/N is heard muttering quietly. Diego's ears perk up as he listens.

"...because I'm not making-... effort? Verschwinde... You say-... more like others... opfer... crazy about success.... scream inside... feigling... robbed me of strength... look at me... please... I'm scared... will never stop... seht doch hin... chains of lead... miststück... smiles... pretence... lonely... nobody hears it... stummer schrei... can barely breathe... nein... can't ignore it... accept me... feel lost... frozen heart... save me... storm rising... me..."

Diego raises his eyebrows confused. He shrugs and falls back asleep as she stops muttering.

***

Manny wakes up and tightens his trunk, only to feel nothing but blankets. He stands up and stomps over to Diego.

"Where's the baby?" Manny orders.

Diego asks, "You lost it?"

Y/N peaks out from under her blankets and asks, "Where's Sid?"

The connection in the boys is instantly connected as they shout, "SID!"

Y/N quickly packs up the blankets and follows Manny as the boys split up. Y/N's not gonna miss this. She sees the spa pits and Sid in them.

"Found the idiot." Y/N points over to the pit.

Just as they reach the pit, Junior throws some of the bubbly mud onto Sid's face, who then, in turn, grabs Manny's trunk to wipe it off.

"Oi, buttsnack! That's not a towel." Y/N frowns, causing Sid to jump in shock.

"Oh, hey! Hi, N/N, Manny..." Sid nervously smiles.

Manny frowns, "What's the matter with you?" as he takes Junior.

Y/N smacks Sid's head and walks away with Manny.

"I think he has two brains. His first brain got lost and the second left to find it and hasn't come back." Y/N smirks, getting Manny to chuckle slightly.

"Nononono, Manny Manny Manny, please, I'm begging you! I need him!" Sid begs.

Y/N growls, "You're using the infant as a chick magnet. They're only interested in you because you seem like a family guy. There's no other reason. Now go back to the girls without Pinky."

Sid frowns, causing Y/N to raise her fist, ready to punch.

"Alright! Alright!" Sid exclaims as he runs off.

Manny frowns, "Pretty tail walks by, suddenly he moves like a cheetah."

Y/N nods, "Yep." popping the p.

"And that tiger. Yeah, mister great tracker! Can't even find a sloth. What am I? Their wet nurse?"

Y/N smirks as she watches Manny rant to the baby. He puts Junior down on a tree branch, causing him to squeal in excitement looking at Manny.

"What are you looking at, bone bag?" Manny exclaims.

Y/N snickers silently as she sits down to watch and as the baby squeals.

"Look at you. You're gonna grow into a great predator, huh? Don't think so. Watcha got? You got a little patch of fur... no fangs, no claws, your folds of skin wrapped in mush. What's so threatening about you?" Manny frowns.

Y/N frowns, "I'm right here. Look, his teeth will grow in after a few months, so will his "claws". If he gets back to his herd, they'll improve his brain, where he can trap his prey with things in the area."

Suddenly, Junior hugs Manny's trunk, causing him to stop, seemingly hypnotized for a second. He then frowns and picks up his trunk, the baby holding on tight.

"Hey, does this look like a petting zoo to you, huh?" Manny asks.

"How does he know what a petting zoo is?" E/N asks.

Suddenly, Junior pulls out some trunk hairs, causing Manny to scream in pain. Y/N winces as Junior laughs.

"This is one of the reasons I'm never having children." Y/N mutters.

Manny glares, "Alright, okay wise guy. You just earned a time out."

He picks up Junior and puts him higher up on the tree, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Junior laughs even more, aggravating Manny.

"Oh, you think that's funny? How about this?" Manny asks, putting him all the way to the top of the tree. "You're a little snack for the owls."

Y/N sighs as the baby continues making happy noises.

"You're a brave little squirt, I'll give you that." Manny frowns.

Y/N sighs, "Manny, he's an infant. He doesn't see that being high is dangerous, so he's not scared. He does perceive some things as dangerous, but being high up is not on his danger list."

***

Y/N carries the baby on her shoulders and sees Diego with Sid in his mouth.

Manny yells, "Guys, I thought we were in a hurry."

Y/N scoffs, "Spit that out, Diego. You don't know where that's been."

Diego spits Sid out, suddenly disgusted.

"For a second there, I thought you were gonna eat me." Sid sighs, relieved.

Diego retorts, "I don't eat junk food." getting a laugh out of Y/N.

***

Y/N hugs herself tightly as the snow surrounds them in a sheet of white. She's not used to freezing temperatures. She pulls out her hoodie and a blanket and wraps herself up to warm herself slightly. Manny picks her up and puts her on his back.

"Thanks, Manny." Y/N smiles.

Sid somehow gets left behind. Y/N sees a geyser and points to it, giving Manny and Diego a mischievous smirk. They stop at the geyser waiting for Sid.

"Thanks for waiting." Sid breathes as he sits down on the geyser.

"Three, two, one." The three count down.

Sid is thrown into the air by the geyser and the others walk away.

"Sure is faithful." Manny smirks.

***

Later, Sid and Junior are in a poke war, which annoys both Manny and Y/N.

Manny growls, "Don't make me reach back there!"

Sid argues, "He started it!"

Manny retorts, "I don't care who started it, I'll finish it!"

Sid and the baby continue poking when Y/N says something that stops them both.

"If you don't stop that, I will personally ring both your necks then boil them in a pot!" Y/N growls, her voice getting deeper.

Everyone shuts up, and Y/N's eyes widen. She hugs herself, angry.

"Thank you." E/N taunts.

***

The mammals continue walking until they reach a rock that spits out a red flame and beeps, which then causes a big piece of ice to go right past them, and Y/N stares in shock. The rock then makes another noise, and a green flame comes out.

"Huh. What do you know? Traffic lights are a thing a million years before electricity."

***

Sid throws a snowball at Manny, but it hits Y/N, causing her to fall off Manny's back. Manny and Y/N turn to Sid only to have him point at the baby. She puts her fingers to her eyes, then to Sid in an "I'm watching you" fashion.

***

The group passes by the Stonehenge, causing Y/N to gape.

"Modern architecture. It'll never last." Manny scoffs.

Y/N smirks at the irony of that sentence.

***

Y/N watches Diego as he erases a sabre footprint and makes a human footprint. She's impressed at how accurate it is. Diego points the herd in the direction the print is going.

***

Soon, the herd is on ice, and Sid's skating around like a pro, with Junior on his head. Y/N rolls her eyes as she quite easily skates over to Manny and tries to help him.

"Hiya, Manny." Sid smirks as he skates past the mammoth.

Manny falls over, causing Y/N to roll her eyes.

"Time to put all you've learned from Bambi into practice, huh, N/N?" E/N jokes.

Y/N orders, "Okay, keep your legs firm. You're too wobbly. Okay, better idea, I'll just take you to the snow. Give me your trunk."

Manny wraps his trunk around Y/N's arm and she pulls him, skating towards the snow, off the ice.

"There. Now, I'll help Diego and save Pinky." Y/N smiles.

She skates over to Diego and stops right in front of him, her H/C hair whipping in front of her face.

"Give me your paw before you hurt yourself, Tiger." Y/N smirks.

Diego looks up, trying not to fall, and catches the kindness in Y/N's E/C eyes.

"Alright." Diego nods.

Sid skates past, circling the tiger, "Hiya Diego!"

Diego almost falls, but Y/N grabs his front left paw. She pulls him towards the edge of the frozen lake and decides to show off. She lets go of Diego's paw, then runs onto the ice, controlling her balance quite well. She turns around, ending up skating backwards, waving towards Manny and Diego. Suddenly, there's a crash, and Junior comes sliding to Y/N. She picks him up the best she can without falling and slides to the other mammals, excluding Sid.

"Hey, Sid!"

***

"You're lost, aren't ya?" Manny asks.

Diego answers, "No, I know exactly where we are."

"Ask him directions." Manny orders.

Y/N perks up and sees who "him" is. She falls off Manny in shock after seeing Scrat. She still blames him for 2020.

"I'm alright!" Y/N smiles.

Diego retorts, "I don't need directions."

"Fine, I'll ask him. Hey, buddy. You see any humans go by here?" Manny asks.

Scrat shakes his head, then puts his finger up, saying what he wants to.

Sid smiles, "Ooh! I love this game! I love this game!" He then plays a small game of charades. "Three words, first word. Stomp, no no, stamp, stamp!"

Y/N inputs, "Pack." not even looking at Scrat.

Sid compliments, "Good one, N/N. Uh, pack of long teeth and claws."

Y/N turns to Diego to see him hiding his claws and snickers.

"Pack of wolves, pack of..." Sid thinks.

Manny guesses, "Pack of bears? Pack of fleas?"

Y/N watches as Scrat points at Diego, trying to tell them he saw a pack of sabres, but they're too caught up in guessing to see.

"Pack of whiskers? Pack of noses?"

"Pachyderm?"

"Pack of lies. Pack of troubles. Pack a wallop. Pack of birds."

Suddenly, Diego flicks Scrat away, which only Y/N sees and she busts out laughing.

"Pack of flying fish!"

Y/N laughs, trying so hard not to die laughing, "Birds don't come in packs, they come in flocks! Hahaha. And fish come in schools!"

***

Sid throws another snowball at Manny, and this time, it hits both Y/N and Manny. Y/N jumps down and picks up a whole bunch of snow as she sees Junior point at Sid. She and Manny both throw their snowballs at Sid, but Manny's is so big it squashes Sid. The baby laughs, causing both Manny and Y/N to smirk. Y/N picks up Junior and trudges along the path.

***

Soon a blizzard appears, and Y/N hugs Junior closer so he doesn't freeze and keeps her hood around her head tight. She wraps both her and Junior in a few blankets as they trudge through the snowstorm.

#Ice Age #Reader insert #Manny #Sid #Diego #Ice Age Baby

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cantpickonefandoms · 4 years

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Gwent Week: Day #1: Beginning

Fanfiction.net says my story won’t be up for another 4-8 hours. Well fuck that.

Beginning

For Trent, the first day on Total Drama Island had been a memorable one. Sure, doing something like jumping off a cliff into shark infested waters was not something one would forget anytime soon, but for Trent, the first day on TDI had been memorable for other reasons. Moments like the first time he stood on the dock with his fellow campers, or waiting at the cliff while the other campers jumped stood out to Trent. 'Why?' you may ask, well, it can be narrowed down to one specific camper: Gwen.

Trent had no idea what he expected from the other teens that he would be meeting when he stepped onto the dock of Camp Wawanakwa, but it certainly wasn't this. He supposed the general lack happiness from everyone other than Chris could have been because of the practical joke the host had pulled on them, the supposed 'five-star resort' turning out to be a rundown summer camp was a bit of let down, but still, none of the *eight campers of the dock appeared to be particularly happy, especially the girl at the end of the dock, who was currently scowling while angrily ringing out her hair. Despite suddenly feeling a tad uncertain about his original thoughts that he was going be having fun on this reality show, Trent made his way to stand with the other campers. Trent found himself standing next to a goth, and the moment Trent laid eyes on her, he got a feeling, he wasn't sure how to describe it, but he knew that she intrigued him. As he stood next her, Trent flashed a smile at her, he got a scowl and a turned head in response, but Trent had a funny feeling that she had started smiling once she had turned away from him, and Trent knew without a doubt that he needed to get to know her.

The idea that Trent would jumping off a cliff into shark-infested waters was definitely intimidating, but Trent already had a plan to ensure that he would be jumping off the cliff, he would give it a running start, that would keep him from freezing up at the last moment. Once the Killer Bass had all either jumped, or had chickened out, the Screaming Gophers were up, and Chris has made the announcement that if the Screaming Gophers could top the Killer Bass' nine jumpers, then Chris would give them some carts to pull their crates on. "Nice! Ok, guys, whose up first?" Trent said, he hoped maintaining an optimistic attitude would encourage everyone to jump. Heather had originally refused to jump, but Leshawna rectified the situation by throwing Heather off the cliff, Leshawna had jumped after her, then Lindsay jumped, and then Gwen had volunteered to go after her.

Trent watched as the Goth looked over the cliff, eyeing her target, then he watched as her eyes widened slightly and she muttered "Oh... Wow." Trent guessed that this was the first time she had looked over the side of the cliff, he could sense that she was hesitating a little, he didn't think that she was going to chicken out, but he could sense that she was nervous, so Trent decided to head over to offer Gwen some encouragement and some advice. "You ok?" Trent asked as he came up to the Goth. "I'm fine." Gwen said as she turned to Trent, then she narrowed her eyes at him. "I am not chickening out." She said in a tone that implied that Trent had suggested it. Trent held up his hands against his chest. "I didn't think you were going to. You just seemed nervous, and nobody can blame for being nervous about doing this." He said as he gestured towards the cliff and the water below them. Gwen looked over the cliff again. "Yeah." She said as she eyed the water carefully. "If you're nervous then you could give yourself a running head start before you jump off, it'll keep you from freezing at the last second." Gwen looked Trent with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah?" Trent shrugged. "It's what I'm planning to do." He said simply. Gwen eyed him one last time before Trent watched as she backed up before running and then jumping right off the cliff. Trent watched Gwen fall right up until she landed in the inner circle in the water. Trent gave a sigh of relief as he saw that Gwen had landed safely in the water.

Once all the campers had either jumped or chickened out, Chris came to meet them on the beach and brought a change of clothes for every camper. Once everyone had put their everyday clothes on over their bathing suits (and everyone covered their eyes while Owen put his clothes on) Chris called the attention of both teams. "Congratulations to the Screaming Gophers for winning the first part of your challenge!" Trent joined his fellow Screaming Gophers in cheering their first victory. As the Screaming Gophers settled down, Chris continued talking. "As promised, here the pull carts you can use to carry your crates back to camp." "WHOO! AWESOME!" Owen cheered. Chris then turned to the Killer Bass. "And for the Killer Bass I have..." The Killer Bass team members perked their heads up, clearly hoping that Chris would throw them a bone. "Nothing. Have fun hauling those crates back to camp with your hands." Chris said with an evil chuckle, he then turned, ignoring the glares he was getting from the Killer Bass members, he then hopped onto his *four-wheeled bike. "See you all back at camp." Chris called as he drove off.

Owen easily got all four of the crates onto the pull carts all on his own. Once that was done Heather spoke up. "Alright people, let's get moving." With that, the Screaming Gophers grabbed the pull carts and started heading back to camp. Trent took one last look back at the Killer Bass, who were already struggling to move their crates, Trent felt a little bad for them, but he knew there wasn't much he could do about it. As they were walking, Trent noticed that nobody was talking, in fact, it felt a lot like an awkward silence to Trent. Trent frowned, he didn't want everyone to be silent the whole way back to camp, that wasn't much fun. Trent thought to himself for a bit, seeing if he could think of something he could talk about with his fellow teammates, or maybe something they could sing? Now that wasn't a bad idea, so Trent wracked his brain for a song they could sing, but the problem was that while Trent himself wasn't picky about what genre or song he preferred, he knew that probably couldn't be said for the others. No, he needed a song that didn't have a specific genre, something that was fun, and would entertain them until they got back to camp. A light bulb went off in Trent's head, he knew what to suggest. "Hey guys, who wants to sing Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pop?" Trent asked out loud. "Ugh, seriously? What are we, five-years old?" Heather sneered at him. "I don't think it's a bad idea." Trent turned his head to look at *Gwen, who was currently bringing up the rear of the Screaming Gophers, he smiled at her in appreciation, and she gave him a nod in acknowledgement. "I think that sounds like fun!" Owen said cheerfully. "It would only be until we get back to camp." Trent added. "Izzy likes that idea!" Izzy said with a manic grin. Several of the other Screaming Gophers also seconded Trent's idea. Trent turned to Heather with a raised eyebrow, Heather rolled her eyes at him. "Fine, whatever." She said begrudgingly

Eventually the day came to an end, the Screaming Gophers had won, and to celebrate their victory, the Screaming Gophers were hanging out in their hot tub having a grand time. Trent was relaxing in the hot tub and he was feeling good, winning on the first day of the competition definitely gave him a confidence boost. The last he had seen of Gwen, she had been leaning against the hot tub right behind him, he was hoping he would get a chance to talk to her, and he figured this was a good as a time as any, he turned around so he could talk to her but was met with a surprise- she wasn't there. Trent quickly scanned his surroundings, figuring Gwen might have started to talking to one of the other Screaming Gophers outside of the hot tub but she wasn't there, Gwen had left. Trent had frowned, he slightly disappointed, but then he realized something, if Gwen had gone off on her own and Trent found her and started talking to her, then he would be talking to her alone. With that thought in mind, Trent excused himself and climbed out of the hot tub. You know, Gwen might have left because she wanted to be alone. The logical part of Trent's brain thought. Well, if she tells me she wants to be along then I'll leave her alone. Trent thought to himself, and with that, he went looking for Gwen.

Trent found Gwen at the edge of the woods, she was leaning against a tree and was writing in what appeared to be a diary or a journal. Trent cleared his throat to make his presence known. Gwen looked up from her writing and saw him. "Oh, hey." She said. "Hey, listen if I'm interrupting you, and you want to be alone, that's ok, I can leave if-" "No, no." Gwen said reassuringly, she then gestured to the spot next to her on her right. "Sit." Trent smiled at her and sat down. "So, you came looking for me?" Gwen asked Trent curiously. "I noticed you weren't leaning against the hot tub anymore, so I decided to come look for you." Trent explained. "Oh." Gwen said, they were both quiet for a moment, before Gwen spoke again. "By the way, thanks for helping me jump off the cliff earlier." "Oh, don't mention it. I'm confident you would have jumped anyway, but I'm glad I could help." "Still, I'm glad you came and spoke to me." Suddenly, Trent remembered something. "Thanks for seconding my Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pop idea." "I wasn't the only one who backed you up on that." "But you were the first person who did." Trent's eyes widened as he saw the corners of Gwen's mouth turn slightly up. Gwen was smiling, now, this wasn't the first time Trent had seen Gwen smile that day, but it was the first she had smiled at something he said, and from what Trent had observed of her so far, Gwen wasn't someone who smiled very often. So, Trent took immense pride in the fact that he had ability to make her smile just by making a simple comment. Gwen suddenly yawned. "I think I'm going to head into the cabin and crash." Gwen said. "Yeah, I think I will too." Trent said as he stood up, and seeing that Gwen was still sitting, Trent decided to offer his hand to her. Gwen looked at his hand, and then at Trent, and then looked back at his hand. Just as Trent was thinking Gwen was going to shoot him down, she placed her hand in Trent's. Trent swore he felt heat rush through his arm from where Gwen's hand was placed in his, Trent tightened his hold on Gwen's hand and pulled her up. "Thanks." Gwen said as she brushed non-existent dirt off her skirt. "No problem." Trent said, and with that, Gwen turned and made her towards the girls' side of the Screaming Gopher cabin, and just before she entered, she turned, smiled, and waved at Trent. "'Night, Trent." Trent grinned and waved at her. "Goodnight, Gwen.

The End

#total drama #gwent week #td gwent #fanfiction

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interstellarflowers · 4 years

Text

In Between || Peter Parker x Reader

A/N hey im back, i missed you guys. here's my first fic coming off of hiatus i hope you like it, this is set post infinity war.

In Between

Peter Parker x Reader

Now

Death was always a highly debated topic in your life, which made it highly confusing. Which made everything now even more mind boggling, were you dead? Were you alive? Somewhere in between? You weren’t sure but you felt trapped. Like, the walls were closing in even though there were no walls. You were on a street. You knew you recognized it from somewhere, although you couldn’t quite place it. Everything was so strange, it was like you could remember everything and nothing at all. You were in a city, the sky was painted a faded blue and the clouds didn’t move. It looked like a place that should be lively, but it was desolate. It made you feel empty.

Tall. Everything here was tall and endless. It made you feel very finite and extremely small. It made you want to scream, and it made you want to never speak again, it made you want to run, and it made you want to lay down and freeze time, it made you want to cry, but it put you at ease. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had this feeling in your chest, like a flower blooming, like winter turning to spring, so you followed it.

Before

You looked across the main floor of the tower and you saw him;He was a warm summer rain, he was hot chocolate in the winter and he was the birds singing at sunset. He was Peter Parker, and he was your summer rain, hot chocolate and birds all in one. He eased your mind.

He gave you the sort of side smile that the boys in those romcoms do that makes the love interest swoon. You knew it made you swoon.

“What will it be today, (y/n)?”

“I’m not sure yet but hopefully an adventure.” You shot him a side smile back, and you’ll never know, but in that moment he swore that if he was in a romcom then you must be his co-star.

Now

You were with someone. You lost them, Where were they? You turned around and it was the same desolate street. You shot your head up to look at the sky, there were just buildings with nobody in them and that boundless sky. So you looked the only way you knew you could, forward. Towards...You weren’t sure where but it felt right, like you had made this walk thousands of times before.

Before

He swore to himself before, and he’d keep swearing to himself the same thing. That he would keep you safe no matter the cost. Yet there he was, stuck in space with Mr.Stark, and you were on Earth, millions of miles away. His heart ached and his stomach churned. He felt like something bad was about to happen, he felt it in his bones. More than anything, he wanted to know that whatever it was that you’d be spared.

He knew he would give his life for you, but he also knew that he couldn’t do that from space.

Now

You didn’t know how long it had been. It could’ve been minutes or hours or years, but you knew you were here. You looked up again, the building stood taller than the others and there was an unrecognizable name of some company or person at the very top.

“Stark,” you whispered to yourself.

You could’ve sworn you’d heard of it before, you just couldn’t place where. You slipped your fingers around the door handle and it opened with ease, you stepped inside…

Before

The world was in ruin, it was crumbling before your eyes. War rained down from the very sky. You fought, and fought, and fought. Your limbs felt like they were going to give out, and every muscle in your body ached, but most of all you ached for Peter. You knew that you fought well, but you knew that you could fight so much better if only Peter had been there.

Now

You silently groaned as you realized that the elevator was out of order.

“What type of building is this?” your words echoed through the empty space, as you opened another door and began to climb step by step to wherever you were going.

Before

Maybe you could have done something. Maybe you should have fought harder. There were so many maybes and too little time to think about it.

“It’s not your fault.” Dr.Banner called out to you as you felt tears pool in your eyes. You nodded because that was all you could do, you watched as everyone you loved began to dissipate. You cried out. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, suddenly you couldn’t hear anything. You looked down only to realize that you were fading away too, like an old photograph, like an old memory, you were disappearing. All you could do was watch helplessly as Dr.Banner and Uncle Steve ran to you.

But you were gone. Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner could only grasp at empty air, and look at where you just were, and beat themselves up mentally, only being able to assume the worst.

After

“I could’ve done something more,” Steve Rogers says to his group, “It used to keep me up at night. I couldn’t sleep for weeks, all I could see was her face...All I could think of was how I failed her...But we have to remember, it’s not our fault. We couldn’t have done anything no matter how badly we wish that we could’ve. Wherever they are now all we can do is be the person they’d want us to be, to lead the life they’d want for us. That’s all we can do.”

Bruce sat next to Steve listening to his words and nodding in agreement. He checked his phone for the eighth time that meeting and was only met with radio silence. He had asked Tony to come, saying it may help, saying he could use the support, but there was nothing. Just like last time.

Before

Dad always used to say no boys allowed in your room, oh how things change. You trace circles on Peter’s chest as you watch him count the plastic glow in the dark stars on your ceiling.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“If we don’t make it out-”

“Please don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry Peter but I have to, if we don’t...I...I just want you to know that…”

“I know (y/n), I love you too.”

“I love you.” you whispered into his chest.

“I’ll love you forever. Alive, dead, anywhere in between, I’ll always be right here,” he put his hand right over your heart and that’s when the tears starting flowing salty and glistening down both of your cheeks, “And you,” he moved his hand to put it over his heart, “will always be right here.”

Now

Now you stare at a door. A door you’re sure you recognize. Your hands start to shake as you begin to open the door…

Before

“If we make it out I want you to know,” you pulled out a set of rings from the side of your bed, “That I promise to stand by you for the rest of your life...I know we’re teenagers, but Peter, after everything we’ve been through...Peter, we’ve been forced to grow up, and if I die tomorrow, I want to die yours.”

“(y/n),” he took your hand in his, “Of course.”

Now

“(y/n)?”

It was him. It was summer rain, hot chocolate and birds at sunset. It was your room. It was your home. You were home.

“Peter.” you jumped into his arms, “Where is everyone?”

“It’ll come back to you soon,”

“What will?”

“(y/n),” Peter paused, “Thanos, he won...Or at least for now, (y/n), we disappeared.”

“...Is my Dad here?”

“I haven't seen Mr.Stark anywhere.”

“...At least I have you.”

“You do (y/n), you have me forever,”

“Do you think we’ll ever see everyone again?”

“I don’t know (y/n) I wish I did. I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“It’s not your fault Peter. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You opened your eyes, not that there was much of a difference. It was dark outside too. Another day in the abyss, another year, another month? Time seemed to disappear here. You wished he was here. You missed Peter, you missed your dad. You wanted to go home.

Peter felt a tear drip down his cheek as he woke up to the same darkness that he’d found himself in after disintegrating in Mr.Stark’s arms. He just wanted to keep (y/n) safe. He just wanted to keep everyone safe. But he couldn’t even save himself. Wherever you were, he hoped you were safe. Wherever you were at least he knew he would always see you when he fell asleep.

a/n so thats it i hope you liked it, its supposed to be a one shot but if you guys want a part two i can work on it, thank you for reading

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