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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 3 years

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Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again.

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met.

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain.

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him- Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it.

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back.

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room.

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her.

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp techno #technoblade x reader #technoblade x platonic!reader #philza x reader #philza x platonic!reader #hybrid reader #technoblade x hybrid!reader #philza x hybrid!reader #technoblade x y/n #philza x y/n #lizzy writes

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luvdsc · 4 years

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mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

��That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

fa-by · 3 years

Note

official to get together with Ty. I mean, what?? Who does something like that if they were truly in love?// about this part technically they only became "official" publicly at that time because they never gave us an actual date as to when L and LV got together or even broke up and what makes it more confusing is that LV and L looked like they ended on good terms but then a few weeks later they unfollowed each other and LV was throwing shade at L and now they're not even friends.

Still here, not a hater nor a shipper Anon? I see that the first two times weren’t enough for you. Okay. Suit yourself.

“they never gave us an actual date as to when L and LV got together or even broke up”. Actually, we may not have specific day dates, but we do have dates to calculate everything.

As I’ve already explained, Lucy returned to Lauren’s life after she had a car accident on May 17, 2015:

“She came back into my life when I was 18. I was on tour and I was in my room in a hotel somewhere and she called me”, and, according to their narrative, Lauren decided they would be together “all in” and “now we’re gonna be in this relationship” from that moment on. The last public interaction between the two of them occurred on January 12, 2017 with that post for Lucy’s birthday (which is actually Jan 11):

And by January 21, 2017, they had already broken up since they were at the same Women’s March but with other people. While Lauren ‘was still together with’ Lucy, Ty tweeted “LMJ” on January 4, 2017:

He canceled it right away, and on February 12, 2017, Tyren made their first appearance as a ‘couple’ at the Grammys after-party (picture posted by L two days later):

If you calculate from mid-May 2015 to mid-January 2017, it’s 1 year and 8 months. And of that year and 8 months, 2 months were public due to the wedding pictures.

Lauren was already with Ty after less than a month. In fact, if you want to calculate from January 21 to February 12, it’s only 9 days. So, as you can see, we have dates on which base ourselves.

“Um let’s be realistic this literally happens all the time in real life”. Oh yeah? To who? To those who weren’t really in love and didn’t care about their exes maybe, but not to those who claimed to have been in love with their best friend since adolescence. You continue to be contradictory, Anon. Even in your own thoughts. Because if you believe in the Laucy narrative, then you’re supposed to believe that Lauren was in love with Lucy for five years (from when she was 15 to when she was 20). And if you believe that, then how can you think she fell out of love with her in less than a month? How can you think that’s realistic? Do you really give your fave so little credit? As I’ve already said, I don’t know you, so either you’ve never been in love and that’s why you think it’s realistic, or you do give Laur so little credit for real.

I’m gonna copy and paste the entire piece that you copied incompletely now: “How can you have been in love with someone for so many years, broke up with them because they were a toxic person, and immediately get together with an even more toxic person without having the proper time to heal? Without taking the time for yourself to lick your wounds, grow up, be ready again to throw yourself out there, and eventually find a better person to be in a relationship with? How? Simple. Because they were both fake relationships. The timing they wanted to tell is not credible. None of what they’ve said is believable, and luckily, there’s also enough evidence to prove it so these are not opinions and theories”.

When you love someone, Anon, when you really love someone and you’re not with them anymore, you need time. You really need some time before you can move on. Less than a month is not enough to fall out of love after 5 years and start another relationship by declaring to be in love with this other person every five seconds. I really don’t understand how you can think it’s realistic, and most of all, I really don’t understand how you don’t see it was all fake.

“and who says Ty was a toxic person cause so far L has never said anything bad about him and he treated her right from what we have seen, also the fact that their ‘split’ was peaceful so how was he toxic for her?”. So, let me get this straight. Someone who thinks that ‘the women only serve to be in the kitchen’, that ‘the lesbians only are confused girls’, that:

and that he’s:

is not a toxic person? Someone who’s been in a gang (like his brother who’s still in jail) since he was a teenage boy and has a long list of felonies on his record for infractions, assaults, and possession of various drugs, isn’t toxic? Someone who lies about his age and is disrespectful in the lyrics in his songs and when he speaks in general with phrases in which he had no respect for either women or homosexuality, is not toxic? Someone for whom it’s normal to punch and kick another celebrity in the head just because he refused to leave and free for him the VIP room of a club he was occupying, is not toxic? Someone who wanted to make a blind woman move who was sitting behind him with her guide dog, claiming to be allergic to the fur that was making him sneeze, and despite the fact that the plane staff offered him another seat in the back, which he refused because ‘he had paid extra to be in the one he was sitting in’, and the blind woman even offered him an allergy pill, he refused AGAIN with the excuse that he ‘had to perform’ a few hours later at the Escapade Music Festival (the woman obviously had priority over her seat and wasn’t moved, so they all stayed in their seats in the end), is not toxic?

Are you for real?? Do you really think Lauren could actually have been with a person like that? Someone who represented exactly what she always despised? Do you really think so low of her? You say she’s your fave, but do you know her at all? Because you’re basically insulting her as a person and her intellect. When will you learn to distinguish reality from fiction? When are you gonna open your eyes? If Lauren were to tell you that Santa’s real, then you’d believe it just because the words came out of her mouth? Come on now! Just because she was forced to say that she loved him and how a good person he was, DOESN’T MAKE IT TRUE. Not to mention that we’ve witnessed several times how uncomfortable she was when they had to look intimate for pictures:

And how inappropriate he was:

https://youtu.be/g3D_FMHy4ho

Don’t you see how she tried to move his hand and how uncomfortable she was? And these are just two examples, but there are so many of them. Wake up and learn to recognize the distinction between script-following Laur and authentic Laur. I already told you this.

No, I’m the one who’s sorry here. Because as I said, you can’t distinguish when something is fake and when it’s real. I was there. You seem to have forgotten this. I saw every post, every picture, and every live they did together. They were together. They obviously couldn’t say it because Lucy ‘was together’ with Laur, but they were together. It wasn’t a serious relationship like the one with Nicole, but they still had something. They stayed together until February and then Lucy got together with Nicole in March.

---

I hope this can also answer your ask, dear Anon 😄 and hi to you too 👋🏼

---

Back to you, not a hater nor a shipper Anon. Keep blaming CS and believing every single thing your faves say if you want, but do yourself a favor: stop trying to change someone’s mind (with empty proofs) and try to convince them to think like you. It’s useless. As I already told you in that post: “You can come back here a hundred more times, but you won’t change my mind”. Just accept it. Just accept the fact that we think differently because we believe in different things. Follow the blogs that think like you if you want, create your own blog with your own opinions or whatever, but don’t go to CS ones like mine because you wouldn’t come out as a winner, as you could see all three times. It’s one thing to go to another blog to express your opinion, and another is to go there multiple times and insist on changing their minds. Unlike you, I don’t go bothering other blogs to convince them to believe in what I believe. In fact, if that’s why, I don’t really care to change their minds precisely because, as I already told you, everyone is free to think what they want and have their own ideas. I accept the fact that not everyone thinks the same way. Embrace this idea too, trust me, you'll live better. Find your community and be happy there.

I hope I’ve been even clearer than the previous times. Take care, not a hater nor a shipper Anon, and have a good day. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.

47 notes · View notes

wheninitalyy · 3 years

Text

France is no escape - part 1.

A/N : hey! I dont share my writing online very often but since I've been reading all the Benny Watts fanfics I could find, I thought I would post the one I wrote here. I tried to make this pretty gender neutral and I do not know anything about chess, I intend to do a bit of research eventually, but I wrote this solely for my love for the characters and the show (that I may watch again because I’m so obsessed).

This should be a multiple part story if I can motivate myself to continue writing. I’m also very new to Tumblr so I apologize if I'm just- messy.

Final thing! Writing is just a hobby of mine to write down all my thoughts so I apologize if my sentences are a bit messy or too long. Thank you for reading !

Click here for Part Two :]

Pairings : Benny Watts x Reader

Word count : 1865

Warnings : none :]

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

“Well, shit,” Harry breathed as he resigned. A smile grew on my face as I leaned back in my chair, one foot on the seat with my leg pulled up against my chest and the other on the cold floor.

Harry was visiting me in little Rouen, France. He had become one of my closer friends even if he was hundreds of miles away.

Cleo, who I met through Benny, was in France for modeling often so I saw her quite a bit, but she wasn’t my home. She wasn’t chess obsessed like my friends were back in America.

Harry sighed as he checked his watch, I glanced over to him and already knew what was going through his head.

“Harry- you don’t have to leave. You could move in with me,” I told Harry, he smiled as he shook his head.

“You know I can’t do that- I’m lucky you’re paying for a flight for me every time I come to France. I couldn’t afford living here and wouldn’t fit in very well,”

He had a point; this wasn’t a place he would enjoy living his day-to-day life in. I got on just fine but learning the language to finding a new job would drive him mad... but I couldn’t help but offer, I was lonely here. I went from being in a relationship with a US Chess Champion in a little apartment in New York to being offered a whole photography career in France. I couldn’t turn this down, with my mother passing away a few months before, there was nothing keeping me in New York.

Heh... I wonder what mother would think of me living in a little apartment in Rouen.

She would likely ask me about the boys and restaurants, if I was making enough to buy elegant clothes and dance in the rain with strangers on late nights. I miss her.

“Hey? You okay Y/N?” Harry pulled me out of my thoughts,

I shook my head and laughed lightly, “Sorry, I was just thinking about when I lived in New York,” I half lied,

“New York? Back when you lived with the Benny Watts?” he asked me,

“Yes, when I lived with the Benny Watts,” I responded mocking the way he referred to Benny.

Benny Watts. The relationship with the US Chess Champion, but he wasn’t a trophy, he was very important to me at the time.

We were meant to stay in contact after I left for France, but days without calling turned into weeks, then months and eventually I don’t think either of us expected to hear from each other in any way other than reading the chess articles.

I buy a magazine when I see him on the cover, I flip through it for a bit but within the day it gets throw into the pile of magazines sat under my coffee table. He just climbed up the ladder of chess higher and higher after I left, it’s possible that Benny Watts getting romantically involved really was bad for him like the fan girls said.

I smiled at the thought.

I took a deep breath as I got up from my chair, “I assume it’s time for you to get going?” I looked to Harry. Harry gave me a sad smile and nodded.

Sunny Paris, another day, another twenty chess players to hunt down for some good cover photos. This wasn’t actually a very common thing, there was a tournament here in Paris. One of the biggest we’ve had in a while actually- this could very well be the talk of the town for quite a while.

“Hello Y/N Y/L!” the front desk receptionist greeted me with a bright smile.

“Big day, huh?” I said as rested my wrists on the counter fidgeting with a pen in my hand.

“Oh yes! your company must be thrilled about this one!” she said, I’ve talked to her enough to book a room here for the little chess tournaments (and sometimes big) to call her an acquaintance and maybe a bit more.

“Yep, it’s going to be a long weekend,” I laughed as I looked back to her,

“I heard they flew in a couple big players from America, anyone you know?” she asked as she looked up at me and slid my room-card over the counter to me.

“Oh? I haven’t checked who was coming in, I’m sure I know a couple of them though,” I smiled and slid the card into my pocket, dropping my pen in my bag as well.

“Well you have a nice morning and tell me if you need anything!” she smiled back,

“Thank you!” I waved to her goodbye and started to walk around the lobby.

One, two, ten chess tables lined up by the windows. The patterned carpet matched the drapes and the tables and chairs were a deep burgundy shade. Potted plants in every corner and little decorative ribbons hung from the ceiling, they really went all out this year.

The games didn’t start until tomorrow, not any important ones at least, so today would be the best day to strike on interviews and photos. I arrived early so people were only just arriving or settling in.

I sat down on a nearby sofa and pulled my camera out, fixing a few things here and there so I didn’t have to later.

After about 30 minutes, I heard a familiar voice, “Well that’s just pawns, there’s no hope there,” the man had an American accent.

I stood up and looked around for the man who I heard; I scanned the room until he spoke again. My eyes darted behind me as I quickly turned around, oh lord.

There he was, long black leather trench coat with a hat that anyone could recognize, tight dark jeans and a black t-shirt. I could almost call the chains around his neck sparkly if the sunrays hit them just right, a crowd around him at all times since he got here, I’d assume.

There he was, Benny Watts.

I was about to walk over knowing how much my company would love to see some shots of him, or maybe it was because he was an old friend... or an old lover.

I shook the thoughts out of my head as I put my camera back in my bag gently and brushed myself off.

I should go.

I stood up and begun to walk toward the elevator across the room, “Y/N!” someone shouted from behind me. I swiftly turned around to be met with Cleo.

“Cleo!” I greeted her, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave! I have a job at eleven,” she paused as she looked over my shoulder. “Oh! have you said hello to Benny yet?” shit.

I turned around to be met with Benny’s gaze, he smiled as he stood up. Of course, his name being said would immediately catch his attention. I looked back to Cleo, there is no turning back, thank you for that Cleo.

I shut my eyes as I swore under my breath.

“Y/N?” Benny asked,

I forgot to breathe for a moment and let out a quiet exhale and turned around, “Ben- Mr. Watts,” I corrected myself as I would if I was on a job, which I was.

At this moment it seemed I had forgotten all my history with Benny while also remembering every detail.

He seemed taken aback by what I called him, “Why are you calling me that?” he smiled but his eyes clearly said he was caught off guard.

“I- I’m on the job,” I stuttered at first, I could see him deciding to let it slide as he looked away. He looked back to me and opened his arms for a hug, I backed away just a bit and he immediately got the message. Why did I do that?

“What? You’ve been gone for a couple years and I’m a stranger now?” he laughed, yet I could tell he was irritated by how I acted. But he was Benny Watts, he never shared how he felt, and he never shows weakness. What I did merely confused him as far as I knew.

I didn’t know how to act if I was being honest, things weren’t left exactly fantastic when I left for France. Benny wasn’t happy I was leaving, not at all. He went from being shocked, to upset, to begging me to stay, to making promises like he would visit me. He didn’t keep those promises, but I never expected him to.

I took a deep breath, “No you’re not- I’m just- sorry,” I was a mess, I wasn’t even able to stay cool around Benny when we were together.

He was my weakness, his smile, his messy dirty blonde locks, his voice.

He looked down, “Don’t worry about it,” he paused as he looked at my eyes. He just stared at me, “Better get going, I think some people are waiting on me,” he told me as he looked back to the crowd who sat around him and a chess table just moments ago.

I looked over to Cleo with a worried expression, she put her hand on my shoulder and shrugged with a sympathetic smile. I was an idiot, I backed away from a hug with Benny when I used to wake up to him everyday only 2 years ago.

Benny looked me up and down and tipped his hat, he spun on his heel as he turned around to walk away. I didn’t know what to say so I decided to say my goodbyes to Cleo and go to my room,

“Benny,” I turned around suddenly hoping to catch him,

“Yeah?” Benny turned to look at me,

“I’ll see you later?” I asked,

He chuckled quietly and looked to his feet, “Sure Y/N, I’ll see you later,” he said dully.

I felt relieved he didn’t scoff and keep walking like he had done to many who wronged him.

I do miss him; I wasn’t distant because I wanted to be- I was distant because I had lost my ways with him. I didn’t know how to be his friend again. I miss the bad jokes and the excited chess talk and even some of the pointless arguing, what it was before I left.

I fell onto my bed and stared at the ceiling in my hotel room.

What would mother think?

I ask myself the same question every day. She would think if he didn’t move to France with me in the first place that he wasn’t worth my time, I smiled as I remembered when she first met him.

She asked how much money he had, if he took me to his tournaments, if he would die for me. Benny sat there speechless while I was a giggling mess, I don’t even believe we were together at that point but over my dead body did I not introduce a US Chess Champion to my mother.

I’ll talk to him before he leaves, I’ll be there to watch him win everyone. I’ll fix what I have clearly broken.

// Part Two ! //

#benny watts #benny watts imagines #benny watts x reader #the queens gambit #the queens gambit imagines #imagines #thomas brodie-sangster #thomas brodie-sangster imagines

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Moon

Genre: Scarlet Heart Ryeo!AU, Time Travel!AU, Alternate History, Royalty!AU

Pairing: OC x EXO OT9

Summary: This isn’t Gwen’s time. She was from the modern era, with technology and electricity. But during a solar eclipse, she’s transported back into a previous life in a time and place she does not know. Now, as the foreign daughter of a merchant living in a prince’s household, she must tread carefully, watch her back, and guard her heart. But with the princes locked in a battle over the throne, the chances of her making it out alive might disappear.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

********

The paper sliced across the skin before any action could be taken to avoid it. A high pitched hiss followed by a short whine. The flap of skin that had been separated was being dyed red.

Gwen stuck her index finger in her mouth to sooth the stinging. It helped a little bit. Still sucking on the appendage, Gwen stumbled over to the supply closet and opened the thin metal doors with the other hand. She kept this feat up as she opened the first aid kit and pushed around the different types of bandages, trying to decide which one to use. The cut was right on the tip, right where you never want it to be. It was hard to get a band aid on that kind of cut. Eventually, she found a smaller version of a standard design and ripped the paper covering opening. She wrapped the band aid around her index finger before heading for her desk. It was back to the files that had injured her in the first place.

The pile was tall; by her standards, at least. Gwen had been dealing with it for the past hour. The dates on the files needed sorting, separating the ones could be sent to long-term storage. She almost gave out another whine, but she didn’t want the others to hear and start the relentless teasing. Her coworkers were quick and very witty.

It was a friendly floor. Everyone joked and played around without the fear of feelings being hurt. If Gwen didn’t have to do the actual work that came with the office space, she wouldn’t mind staying here forever. But dealing with these files and demanding customers and meeting quotas was not what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Not that Gwen knew exactly what it was that she did want to do. She’d tried a lot of things over the last few years in her slow going college years. Marketing, history, education - hell, she even took several makeup courses and skincare lessons that focused on natural resources. None of it stuck, none of it held her interest, though the information could be recalled if needed.

“You alright there, Gwen?”

Drudging up from the bowels of her thoughts, Gwen looked up at Kimberly, who had stopped at her desk on the way back from the printer.

“Yeah,” Gwen nodded with a sigh. “Just… ready for the week to be over.”

“Ain’t that the consensus,” Kimberly laughed.

“How are the dogs?” Gwen was seizing the opportunity to distract herself from work. Kimberly owned two dogs with opposite personalities. One was the well-mannered older brother, the other was the skittish, hyper younger brother. She loved to talk about them and there was never a shortage of entertaining stories.

Kimberly rolled her eyes. “Kurt is back to back to demanding his breakfast at five a.m. Oh, but Kent now does this thing where he walks backwards. Whenever he starts doing that, we’ll beep at him. You know, like the garbage trucks? Then he gets all shy and hides his head.”

Gwen couldn’t stop giggling at the thought. “Oh, the poor thing!”

“You’ll have to see it next time you come over.”

“I can’t wait.”

As Kimberly walked away, Gwen sighed. She didn’t get out too much and the humor that most of her socializing outside of work was with one of her coworkers wasn’t lost on her. Just another dart to throw at the board that was Gwen Sinclair.

It wasn’t like her life was a complete disaster. Really, it could have been worse. She could imagine a thousand different scenarios that she could be living right now that were worse off then her current situation. Truthfully, if glanced at from the outside, Gwen’s life was simply... mediocre. She was blessed with tolerable roommates, an okay job that provided a nice paycheck for a twenty-three-year-old who had yet to finish college. But… the loneliness was killing her and overall, she was craving for something more.

She was exhausted from obligation and responsibility. She wished to go back to the days where she read about adventure and intrigue and imagined some day living that out herself. After having those words in her hands, she felt empty in her reality. Somehow, each day felt even more draining.

With the end of another workday, Gwen packed up the files that still needed to be sorted, locked up her cabinets and tugged on her coat as she waved goodbye to Kimberly and the others. A few other coworkers were chatting excitedly about the solar eclipse happening in a few minutes. Gwen, however, was annoyed. Annoyed at the fact that all anyone - online or in person - could talk about was the solar eclipse, as if it was the only one that had ever been seen in this generation. When one person mentioned the eclipse, it was fine. When it was every post and every comment and every conversation, it felt a little ridiculous. Gwen couldn’t care less about the event. Getting home was her current priority. But escaping wasn’t that easy.

For the millionth time, Gwen rolled her eyes as she scrolled through the newsfeed, waiting for her car to warm up in the parking garage. The weather was cold and dreary, slowing down her progress on getting home. Puffs of steam escaped her lips in the below freezing temperature. Other employees hurried past the back of her car to get to their own tiny sanctuaries. An alert for a new email popped up at the top of the phone screen. From the quick scan of the notification, she saw that it was from her eastern history professor. He wanted to go over the latest paper from class. Oh, no. That was never a good sign.

Gwen huffed, threw her car into reverse, and pulled out of the parking space. First the papercut, now this.

Since all her classes were online, Gwen had the minor luxury to not be forced to talk to her professor face to face, which surely would have been humiliating. But it couldn’t be avoided completely. She’d email him back once she arrived home. Or maybe she’d put it off until tomorrow. Dealing with this was the last thing she wanted to do. Stress was already causing her skin to revert back to puberty, she didn’t need this as well.

Her phone rang and she struggled to answer it while carefully winding down the levels of the garage. It was Jaynie, the favorite of the roommates.

“Hey, Janie, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you were coming straight home today.”

Gwen smirked, knowing exactly where this was going.

Over the past several months, a bit of an obsession had developed with Korean dramas. The shows the two of them consumed were different from the same old, boring American television and there were years worth of stories to choose from. Currently, they were in the middle of another romantic comedy. While Gwen loved the storyline and was in a constant state of swoon, as soon as the credits started rolling, she was reminded how pathetically uninteresting her life was. But those sixty plus minutes of pure escapism made it all worth the crash that came afterwards.

Gwen tried to wait patiently in the line to leave the parking garage, but her frustration was getting the better of her. It was stop and go, stop and go, stop and go.

“I’m planning on it. That is, if people decide any day now to not drive idiotically.”

“Ugh, I had the same problem on my way home.”

Curious. Both of them worked in the downtown area. “How did you get home so fast?” Gwen asked.

“I got off a little early today.”

“Lucky.” Her accounting job often led to flexible hours. Gwen was jealous of that level of freedom.

The road was slick from the freezing rain. Weather like this brought out all the stupid drivers as if this wasn’t a yearly occurrence. She was careful to look both ways before exiting the garage and inching into the street. What she didn’t account for was the other emptying lot across the street. A large black SUV pulled out right at the same time, but went too fast, hitting the water that was slowly turning to ice on the asphalt.

With no time to react, the SUV slammed into the side of Gwen’s compact car. Glass from the driver’s side window shattered and sprayed her face. Her phone flew out of her hand. The crunch of metal hit her ears before she could fully process what had happened. With the force of the collision, her forehead slammed against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. The sound of screams echoed around her, but the words were unintelligible. Slumped over in her seat, a shadow creeped over the scene. Through the slits of her barely open eyes, Gwen watched as the sun disappeared behind the moon. Then all went black.

********

The water was what brought her back. It filled her lungs and surrounded her on all sides. She flailed her limbs, desperate for traction that couldn’t be found. Her clothing weighed her down, the hems being pulled as if hands had gripped tight on them. She needed a miracle. And a miracle she got. Two hands held onto one of her wrists and pulled her to the surface.

She gasped for air as her rescuer struggled to bring her to shore. The cloth that covered her felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds, making it nearly impossible to move. Water made its way up her throat, spilling over her lips. Her lungs were finally clear. They took in as much oxygen as they were allowed, burning with each brath.

“Lady Gwen! Lady Gwen!”

A young girl blocked out the bright sun. She shook Gwen’s shoulders desperately.

Gwen’s brain processed that the girl was not speaking English, but… she could understand her. The girl’s damp, dark hair was pulled into halves on either side of her face held in place by wide red straps. She looked at Gwen with deep concern, like a lifelong friend. But Gwen was sure she had never seen this girl before in her life.

“My Lady, can you hear me?” she asked frantically.

“Who are you?” Gwen finally choked out.

That made the girl pause in her panic. “What?”

Slowly regaining her strength, Gwen pushed herself up to her knees. As her eyesight cleared, she took in her surroundings. Gone were the tall metal and glass buildings, traffic lights, and speeding cars of her modern home. Now all that surrounded her were trees and a sandy beach of a large, calm lake. In the distance, wooden houses with curved rooftops, painted in bright reds and greens dotted the horizon. The heaviness that weighed her down was a dress made of too many layers and of no western fashion that she’d ever experienced before.

Whispers bounced around the rocky shore. All the faces that were looking on with concern around were unfamiliar. Gwen grabbed the hair cascading down her back, but it was still the red she knew, darker from the dampness of being pulled out of the water but still her hair.

“Where am I?” she asked in a quiet, gasping voice.

“My Lady, don’t you remember?” The girl panicked. “You’re in Songak. Goryeo.”

“Goryeo?” Gwen screeched. All the minor details she could summon up of the country came rushing to the forefront of her mind. It was information overload and her brain couldn’t handle it. Her lungs tried desperately to keep up, breathing in as much air as they could, but her throat was closing up from the panic. The landscape blurred and she fell to the ground.

********

She was in a bed this time when she regained consciousness. The room was cold and dimly lit with soft, orange candlelight. A man, Caucasian unlike the others, sat beside the bed on a stool, worry etched into every facet of his face.

“Gwen, sweet, are you all right?”

English. He was speaking English. But that was a footnote of comfort to the bigger problem. She still didn’t know what had happened to her or how she got here or who these people were that seemed to know her. The man, who was about in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair, smiled down at her, though his eyes were confused. “Gwen, does it hurt anywhere? Can you tell me if you hit your head?”

Gwen took a moment, to calm down and to evaluate what she was feeling physically. Her head didn’t hurt, nor did any other part of her body. Wordlessly, she shook her head. The man seemed relieved.

“Are you all right?” He asked again, a different meaning under the question this time. “Chae Ryung said you couldn’t remember her or that we were in Goryeo? Do you at least remember your papa?”

Gwen weighed the choices in her mind. There wasn’t a mirror around, but she started to wonder if she had taken the place of someone else. Someone who knew these strangers. She could say that she didn’t know any of them - the truth - but would they think her mad if she spilled too much? Perhaps she could say she remembered a few things. Like him, if he is this poor girl’s father. Why am I here? In this time?

Choosing to comprise with herself, she gave the smallest of nods. “Papa.” Sitting up, she pulled him into a hug and there was something comforting about his embrace. This body remembered him, at least.

“What happened?” she asked after she let go.

“Chae Ryung said that you’d wandered off again and she found you, you’d been the water a long time.” The man, Papa, sucked in a breath, his eyes beginning to water. His genuine concern over her wellbeing made Gwen choke up as well. “The doctor said you stopped breathing. That could explain your lost memories.”

Good. The excuse was already in her hands. That should make it easy enough to play along while being forgiven for any missteps. But they shouldn’t be in Goryeo. That didn’t make any sense, historically. If anything, they might have been in Joseon – late Joseon. Was this some sort of alternate timeline? Or maybe she hit her head really hard in the car crash and this is really all a dream from the stress of her paper and too much K-drama.

Yes. Too much K-drama.

That had to be the explanation. This was all a strange dream. Which meant, she could play along and not be afraid. She could ask questions and live out the day until she woke back up in her own time, most likely in a hospital with a bandage on her head and her mother fretting over her.

She glanced around the room, taking in the architecture that she had only ever seen in pictures. In person, it was even more stunning and intricate. This wasn’t an ordinary citizen’s home. Interesting. What else could her brain come up with? “Why are we in Goryeo?”

“Your father’s a merchant, remember?” He spoke slowly. Each word was deliberate, giving Gwen time to process. Good filler for her mind. “I made a large fortune here and planned on taking you back home, but… your mother is buried here. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

A wave of emotion hit out of nowhere. Though her mother was alive and well, it didn’t stop a tear from escaping. “Mama.”

Papa wiped it away with a coarse finger. Gwen gasped back, surprised by the realness of the touch. Her dreams were never this intricate. The blanket strone across her lap scrunched in her fingers. It was cold and soft… and very real.

She wasn't dreaming, was she?

Confused by her reaction, Papa paused for a moment before continuing his explanation. “The eighth prince is graciously letting us stay with him while we wait on the construction of our home to be complete.”

The eighth prince?

Panic grew tenfold. If this wasn’t a dream, then she was in very big trouble. If history told her one thing, it was that proximity to royalty was the most dangerous place to be. Gwen might possibly have been able to skate by if they were simply staying in some unknown village far from the capital, but they were in a prince’s home. Which meant they were in… Songak, the capital city, just like that girl – Chae Ryung – had said. Right under the King’s nose. Breathing became difficult again. Each one was shallow, barely letting in any oxygen. Gwen could feel her chest tighten and her vision blurred.

“Gwen!” Papa jumped up and tried to keep her straight to give her lungs as much room as possible. He switched to Korean as he called out over his shoulder, “Someone, get the doctor! Now!” Shuffling sounds echoed off the floor on the other side of the sliding door and then faded away.

A minute later, breathing no better, two men and a woman rushed inside along with Chae Ryung. The older man stepped in front of Papa and took his place. He pushed Gwen’s shoulders gently until she was lying down. Two cold fingers against her wrist checked her pulse. The other, much younger man stepped up to Papa.

“What happened?”

Papa frowned. “It seems she’s lost some of her memories. I was explaining why we were here when suddenly she had trouble breathing.” He stopped, struggling with his own breath. “I’m sorry we’ve become a burden to you, Your Highness.”

Gwen’s breathing was regaining strength and she was able to concentrate on the conversation. So that was the eighth prince. He was younger than she would have guessed, handsome even, if she had to focus on something other than her lack of breath.

“Do not think such a thing,” the Eighth Prince replied. “Your presence has greatly improved the household. Lady Gwen will get better with time.”

Papa bowed, obviously grateful at the response. He turned to the woman. “Lady Hae, may I enquire after your own health?”

“Today is a better day,” she smiled, though her pale, drained complexion said otherwise. “Please, don’t worry about me. Keep your thoughts for your daughter.”

The doctor released Gwen’s wrist, satisfied with the improvement of her pulse and breathing. He stood up.

“It was a mild panic attack,” the doctor said calmly to Papa. “If it happens again, she should lie down and focus on her breathing. The incident at the lake seems to have taken a toll on her body. She simply needs rest. In time, her memories and her body will recover.”

Gwen didn’t agree with that statement fully. This body might get better in time, but there was no way memories that didn’t exist would ever return. One by one, the occupants left the room until it was only Gwen and Papa remaining behind. Silence hung in the air. After a moment, Papa sat down on the stool and took Gwen’s hand.

“I was worried I had lost you,” he whispered.

Gwen’s eyes fell down to the blanket covering her legs. Things were becoming clearer to her now. This was not a dream and she was no longer Gwen Sinclair from the twenty-first century. Something must have happened. She didn’t know what exactly had occurred or what would happen now, but she was here. And little did this man – known only to her as “Papa” – know that he had indeed lost his daughter. The face may be the same, but the Gwen inside was different. She would try her best to be good to him, at least until she found a way to get back to her own family. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

********

The next morning, the doctor, along with the Eighth Prince, came back to check on Gwen. The doctor commented that her pulse was stronger and that she seemed well on the road to full health. However, he still insisted on keeping her on bedrest.

Bored with these same walls and too curious about her temporary home, Gwen sat up. If she was going to be here for a while, she might as well get to know it. “I’m fine. Please, don’t make me stay in here all day. The sun and air is good for you, isn’t it?”

The sudden rebelliousness against the doctor’s suggestion did not seem to sit well with any of them. Gwen gave Papa a pleading look. A father couldn’t resist those eyes. He sighed, turning to the doctor. “Perhaps, a little exercise in walking around the grounds would be all right?”

The doctor looked reluctant, but he agreed. “But she shouldn’t overexert herself.”

“Chae Ryung will stay with her,” the Eighth prince ordered. “If you’ll please excuse me, I must meet with my brothers.” He bowed and left, followed by the doctor.

Having heard her name from the hallway, Chae Ryung shuffled quickly inside and over to Gwen, holding out her arms for the latter to balance on as she slid off of the bed. “Are you sure you want to go outside?”

Gwen nodded. “Yes. Perhaps seeing more of this place will help jog my memory.”

Chae Ryung tilted her head. “How can your memory jog?”

Gwen snorted, both at Chae Ryung’s confusion and at herself for the slip of the modern phrase. “Sorry, I just meant, maybe my memories will come back.”

“Oh.” The look on her face was enough to make Gwen laugh again.

Gwen scolded herself internally. She had to be more careful with her words. Every step was one on thin ice. She couldn’t change who she was, not completely, but she would have to pull back. Chae Ryung, however, felt safe, like a shelter from the rain. With her, Gwen could find answers that might be dangerous to seek elsewhere. Straightening her shoulders, Gwen smiled broadly and took her newest friend’s hand. Chase Ryung grinned brightly at her and guided her out of the room.

#exo royalty au #exo royalty!au #scarlet heart au #scarlet heart ryeo #exo time travel au #exo time travel!au #exo angst #exo series #exo x oc #exo x original character #exo ot9 #Scarlet Moon

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yuthoe · 3 years

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Day 29: Covert (PENTAGON: Ko Shinwon)

LONG TIME NO MTM!! work kicked my ass this past week, so this is the most i can give. i'm definitely completing the whole list tho, even if a lot of it is late. it's almost the 30th here, but im still gonna post this anyway. today's May Trope Mayhem prompt is:

Day 29: Reverse Verse/Trope Inversion

so i decided to do a "fake NOT" dating premise, and then decided on shinwon cuz i think he'd be the type to have trouble keeping up appearances (like a relationship). this was surprisingly longer than i thought it would be, but i'm pretty happy with it.

PAIRING: Ko Shinwon x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff. WARNINGS: none. WORD COUNT: 1,135.

---

Shinwon pulls back his hand just shy of touching your back. There are cameras everywhere and being overly familiar isn’t really the best idea when you’re trying to hide a relationship. The solo gig he’s on doesn’t have a live audience so the cozy ensemble comprising the three hosts and you, another guest idol, is quite comfortable. It’s easier to keep mum about something when there aren’t a hundred pairs of eyes watching his every move, after all.

Unfortunately, he felt too comfortable—the hosts are really fun and they pry out TMI easily from him that for a while he forgot he was actually on a show. Throughout a whole segment he kept sneaking glances at you and watching your reactions to the comedic bickering on the other couch.

Looking back, he made it painfully obvious that he’s interested in you; he just hopes the cameras weren’t trained on him at the time. Oh, he can’t wait for all the edits and comments on the internet and a scolding from his manager.

Now, he clutches his fist in the other hand and stands next to you at the table rigged up by the production crew, trying to listen to the hosts’ explanations of the segment as cold sweat drips down his back.

The woman in thick-framed spectacles and a bobbed haircut invites you to pick from the basket of balls containing a keyword you’ll have to act out with Shinwon, that he has to guess.

“Okay, here I go,” you say, plunging your hands into the basket and rummaging around, finally pulling out a green ball a second later.

Shinwon steps back to the other half of the stage and watches as you open the ball and read out the keyword. You raise your head, scrunching up your face as you turn back to the hosts and show them the piece of paper.

“Aaahh, what is it?” he calls.

“It’s so hard,” you answer, looking at the word again before folding it and putting it back inside the ball. “But I think it’s doable. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Shinwon laughs loud, but groans afterwards, mind completely on the challenge now.

“I’m just gonna go for it,” you say, stepping over to him. Once close enough, you whisper, “I’m so sorry in advance.”

It takes him a second to register your words, but the reply dies on his lips when you launch yourself at him and grip his shirt tight. He hears the hosts squealing behind him.

“You promised!” you suddenly say, and Shinwon really can’t stop the confused expression on his face. “You promised we would go, and I even took the day off for it!”

Shinwon is drawing a blank, no idea what the keyword could be. It takes him a few moments to realize he can actually reply to you. “Wh… Where were we supposed to go?” Another burst of laughter from the hosts.

You’re pouting so cute and clutching at the ends of his sleeves, bouncing on the balls of your feet in petulance. “Come ooonn, don’t tell me you forgot about it—we’ve been talking about going for ages!” You break character for a moment to widen your eyes at him, a silent, Come on, you know this gesture, before playing up the cutesy vibe more. “I know you’re scared of them, but you promised!”

“Scared?” one of the hosts says. “Oh, that might narrow it down. Can you think of anything you’re scared of Shinwon-sshi?”

“Oh, I’m scared of a lot of things, so that doesn’t really help,” he says, hands coming up to unconsciously hold your arms—it’s on instinct at this point that he does it, especially when you’re doing your best to act all cute and make him give in to something.

“But they’re really cute tho,” you say, pursing your lips and giving him your best puppy dog look—Shinwon gasps.

“Dog cafe! Is it ‘dog cafe’?” he yells, and the hosts jump and shout, and you break away to celebrate.

“‘Dog cafe’ is correct!” the male host says, clapping at their performance. “How did you get the answer that quick, though?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the bespectacled host agrees, patting her colleague on the shoulder. “Y/N-sshi didn’t give any big clue on it.”

“Ah,” Shinwon says, filtering the appropriate words in his head.

This dog cafe issue was actually the subject of your first big fight, about three months into your relationship—In a moment of weakness brought about by your adorableness, he’d promised that you’d go to that dog cafe you’d wanted to visit. Yes, he’s afraid of animals. Yes, he was serious. Yes, he did forget about it and you got mad at him. Shinwon looks upon that argument with sadness, but the conversation afterwards resulted in you finding out about his phobia, so ever since then you didn’t pressure him to go to any animal cafes anymore.

“I’m actually scared of small animals,” he says, moving with you towards the guests’ couch. “And there was this one time pre-debut where the members and I had to go to an animal cafe for a mission, and I was so scared of the puppies I nearly fainted.”

You’re nodding along to his explanation. “Yes, and we were quite close as trainees so he told me about it.” The lie slips easily from your lips; while it’s true that you were trainees at the same time, you barely said a word to each other until Pentagon’s and your debut. It wasn’t out of animosity, rather you both were just too chicken to talk because of your massive crush on the other. “I’d tease him about it every now and then.”

All the hosts let out “aahh”s of understanding, once again applauding Shinwon for getting your clues and you for acting so well. There’s a clap of the slate and the production head calls for a 15-minute break before Shinwon takes his turn, and he finally breathes a sigh of relief, sagging against the back of the couch.

You turn to him, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Shinwon,” you say quietly. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

He sits up straight away. “No, no, it’s fine, Y/N. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known what to do either if I’d gotten that keyword.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “We’re trying to keep us being together under wraps, but I think I’m doing a terrible job at being inconspicuous.”

“Ugh,” you say, leaning an elbow on the couch’s arm. “I could say the same for myself.” You sigh and look at him, eyes and smile soft and all for him. “We’re really bad at keeping secrets, aren’t we.”

Shinwon smiles back, hands itching to hold you, lips itching to kiss you. “Yeah. We really are.”

#kdiarynet #pentagon #shinwon #ko shinwon #pentagon shinwon #pentagon shinwon scenario #pentagon shinwon imagine #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagine #shinwon scenario #shinwon imagine #fic: mine #fic: shinwon #fic: not spicy #theme: may trope mayhem 2021

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

Mabel AU- The Letters

@haberdashing

Martin is an at home care giver, trying to reach the Grandson of his latest client.

This is basically a rewrite of the first episode of Mabel. There really aren't many direct quotes, only a couple very short ones, everything else is mine.

Thanks for reading! If you want more of this AU, let me know, or just let me know if you enjoyed! Another fic of some sort or other will be posted next week!

ARCHIVIST: Hello, you’ve reached Jonathan Sims. I’m not here to take your call right now. Please leave a message after the beep. Thank you.

[BEEP]

MARTIN: Hey, Jonathan, right? My name is Martin Blackwood, and I’m with Kings County Home Help? I’ve been taking care of your grandmother for the past six months. I’m her at home carer? I know I probably shouldn’t have your number, but I wanted to check in with you. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Gertrude Sims is fine. Good, actually, for her age. Sorry, is that insensitive? In any case, I’d like a call back, if you aren’t too busy. Right. Let me apologize for how I got your number. I know it’s probably unorthodox, probably breeching some privacy agreement or something…

[SIGH]

[ASIDE]

Don’t tell him that, Christ what is wrong with you?

[TO JON]

Right. Well I got your number from my coworker, Sasha, who’s friends with Tim, who’s friends with you. And he apparently hasn’t heard from you in a little, and would like him to call you back. He told Sash to tell me to tell you that, by the way. That was the price for your number. Sorry for that. I’m sure you have …things. A life in the real world and not in this distant and lovely house.

…Sorry, that was… Anyways, give me a call back when you can, yeah? Thanks. Bye!

[ASIDE]

Christ! What’s wrong with you… catch sight of one pretty photo… SHIT, right, hanging up.

[BEEP]

[MUFFLED THROUGH A POCKET]

[QUIETLY SINGING TO HIMSELF OVER THE SOUND OF KITCHEN]

…Onions in the paaaaaan. Why aren’t you hot enough yeeeet? The water sizzledddddd, but it isn’t sizzling noooow.

[NEGLECTED PHONE SOUND]

[REALIZING]

OH SHIT. SORRY.

[BEEP]

[CLEARS THROAT]

Hi, Mr. Sims. It’s me again. It’s Martin. I… I’m trying to reach you… again. …As you probably can tell. It’s just been three days, and I would really like a call back. I just realized I didn’t give a number or like, I know you can probably figure out that you can reach me through this number, but I didn’t say it and I didn’t tell you when I was available, and maybe that’s why you haven’t gotten back to me. At least I hope that’s why. I… I can’t imagine not calling one of my Mum’s doctors back. Anyways, my number is [CENSORED] in case you can’t just ring back or something. Maybe your phone blocks unknow numbers and you haven’t even gotten this. Maybe I was listed as private and you couldn’t call back. Maybe you’re very polite and didn’t want to bother me when you didn’t know my schedule. I’m available from 2-5pm and in the evenings after 9pm. Or maybe you’ve got phone anxiety. I know I do, heh. I’m sweating just leaving you this message.

Or maybe you’re just busy.

Or maybe you tried to call, and I just didn’t get it. The reception isn’t great out here, as …you probably know. Given you grew up here. But anyways I have made sure I can get your message even with the dead-phone zones. It’s all set up. So… just needing a call back when you can. Well, not needing. But… I’d like one. Thanks. Bye.

[BEEP]

Hi. It’s me …again. Just… trying to reach you. Whatever.

[BEEP]

Call me back and let me know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere, okay? Sash says Tim is really worried… And… I might be too. Not that I even know you. Not really. So if you aren’t rotting in some hole somewhere, give me a call back, please?

[BEEP]

Where did you go?

[BEEP]

Hi. It’s me. …I’ve heard a lot about you, you know? Mostly from you Grandmother, Gertrude.

[ASIDE]

Christ, Martin. He knows his grandmother’s name.

[TO JON]

Right. Anyhow. She’s told me a lot of stories, you know? She’s actually pretty sharp. Most of the time, anyhow. Mostly lucid. I’m not sure if that’s all because of her medicine or what. I’ve… I help a lot of old people, at the end of their lives. And well… when I say she’s sharp, I mean that she is sharp comparatively, and also just remarkably so. Her words are confident, and considered. She doesn’t waste words, but she doesn’t shy away from telling stories. (I’m sure it’s just because she has no one else to talk to. Not even you.) But… you’ve stopped feeling like a real person on the other end of the line. That’s part of why I wanted to call? I guess? The longer that it’s been since my first message, the more I doubt myself for calling, and why I called. Sorry, then, for wasting your time. Thinking of you more like a book character, than someone with feelings and thoughts and a life. Someone who I know too much about for us to be casual strangers, even if I am a complete stranger to you. It just feels like a weird imbalance, you know?

Also… it’s a bit lonely out here, you know? Gertrude has a lot of old photographs of you. None of them are recent. And I know it isn’t my business, but… never mind. It isn’t my business… and I get it.

But… she still has your photos up. It’s my job to dust them. So, every week or so, I get a really good look at them. There’s one of you on the tire swing out back… it’s still back there, you know? You have mud all over your dungarees. And in your hair. Then there’s one… you look about 7? Your hair is in pig tails, and you are scowling at something off to your right. I don’t know what it is, and I know I shouldn’t find that kind of adorable, but I do. And there’s one of you in uni. You’re flipping off the camera and your hair is short and you’re wearing eyeliner. You look some odd combination of pissed off and like you’re having the time of your life.

[ASIDE]

And really, really, really hot. Christ, Martin, keep it together. You are literally on the phone with him, and you haven’t even talked to him. Jesus!

[TO JON]

I.. wish I could have known you then. That’s the oldest you look in these. Most of these are pictures of you when you were little. Mostly just you. A few of your dad when he was young, and one of your parents. She’s pregnant, and it’s sunset. They look so …happy. Christ, I’m sorry about what happened to them. I… I didn’t really know my dad either.

Sorry. This isn’t about me.

I’m calling because this place is… spooky. Spooky like a dark fairy tale.

Everything here is a bit… magical and creepy.

This house is old. Like a museum. Dusty boxes in the attic, full of treasures and dust the relics of the past, like the Long past. Not just the past of one lifetime. The garden is overgrown, despite my best efforts. Sometimes, Gertrude comes out and helps me garden. Usually in her chair. Mostly I just wheel here out so she can get some sun while I work. That’s where I hear most of the stories about you.

It’s overgrown with twisting vines and the most beautiful roses I have ever seen, with scary-long thorns.

I feel like I’ve walked into the setting for a classic. Like Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice, or hell, even Tolkien. Or even Grimm’s fairytales. The original, dark ones.

It’s… unsettling. Especially when it’s foggy out.

The rest of the hills disappear into the fog and the condensation clings to the flowers, desaturated with the thickness of the moisture in the air, and the everything is coated in the most delicate, perfect little water droplets.

Anyhow. The reason I’m really calling… are the letters.

I was helping Gertrude move some things up to the attic. She’s one of the practical sorts of old people. She isn’t afraid of her death. She wants everything to be easy on you, you know? Make sure you don’t have to go through too much stuff when she passes on. I’ve lived with a lot of people through their deaths. It’s nice… making sure no one dies alone. Making sure they are comfortable. Making it as painless as possible.

[ASIDE]

Lord knows my efforts were never good enough for my mother… but if I can help other people…

[TO JON]

I know it’s a little morbid. But I like it. I feel… useful. I’m good at it. I’m good at keeping up conversations, and at cooking, and cleaning, and providing medical assistance, as needed. Not that I’m an actual doctor, but I, you know, do have a lot of training.

Anyway. The letters. I was helping her move some stuff into the attic, and bringing down some older boxes so she could go through them and decide what she was ready to toss, when I found them. This box full of letters. Hundreds of them. All unopened. Sealed with a kiss. Lipstick red. Red as dying embers. Stamped returned to sender. Slightly scorched around the edges. Tied in bundles. Identical envelops. Identical loose, looping cursive. All from someone named Agnes? All addressed to Gertrude.

That would be fine, I guess?

But she screamed when she opened it. An inhuman sound.

Like the sound was ripped from her.

And, I have never cared for a more grounded person. I have never seen her anything but… well not completely calm all the time, but mostly calm, you know? I’ve seen her sharp, I’ve seen her annoyed. Heh, half the time it looks like she wants to judge me, but then doesn’t… if that makes sense? Mostly she looks… like she knows so much more than I do and that she is calm in her knowledge? I’ve seen so much as a carer. There isn’t much that rattles me. Not death, not illness, not panic, but… but this was different.

After that… she was shaken badly. Screamed for what seemed like hours, then just stared at me and said “I’m going into the ground for you.” I… I couldn’t calm her down. Not until late evening, and I didn’t even have a break because the relief carer was off sick.

I finally got her to bed, and… I had to take another look. That’s when I got a good look at the envelopes. I… I want to open them. I haven’t. I know I shouldn’t…. but…. I want to know what could have shaken her that badly? Someone that stable and grounded, you know?

Heh, maybe you could call me back and make sure I don’t do something stupid. And ya know, let me know that you aren’t’ dead in a ditch. Tim’s started texting me directly now! He’s… he’s really worried about you.

Anyhow, I just need to know-

[BEEP]

[CONTINUED BEEPING]

AUTOMATED VOICE: The voicemail inbox for [Jonathan Sims] is full. Please call again later.

[DIAL TONE]

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #mabel podcast #fic #my writing #my words #my art #listen I know this is very niche

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theshipsfirstmate · 4 years

Text

Agents of SHIELD Fic: Tell Me I Got Here at the Right Time

finale and post-finale dousy spec. What if they had to fully reset the timeline before they could take it back? What if Daisy was left out of that decision?

A/N: Genuinely don’t know where this came from, other than I can’t seem to stop writing for these two. Also, I want to state for the record that I love Peggy Carter and shipped peggysous, but these two just have my heart and inspiration rn.

Title from “Here at the Right Time” by Josh Ritter.

Tell Me I Got Here at the Right Time (AO3 - wc: 4378)

They think she can’t hear them. In truth, Daisy wishes they were right.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Simmons has regained a good bit of her sparkle since Fitz’s return, but the worry in her voice is what’s most evident now.

“I know. I’m not sure I do either.” There’s a muffled sound after Fitz’s response that Daisy guesses is Simmons swatting at his arm.

“It’s your idea!” she hisses. “What if-“

“Don’t even say it,” her husband answers. “And it’s not my idea. You know that.”

They choose that moment to step back outside, where Daisy’s wringing the nerves out of her hands, hoping to twist them into even more resolve before she steps into the makeshift portal. She knows Fitz has run over a hundred successful tests, has seen over half of them first-hand. But still.

He’s the one of the pair who meets her eyes first, so she hones in before he can try to talk her out of it again. “You promised.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he admits. He’s probably right. But he knows what it means to her, and they all know she would have found another way if he’d refused to help.

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did.” Fitz grimaces, hazarding a glance at his wife, who’s rubbing anxiously at her arms, and then sighs. “Daisy, are you really sure? If something happens to you…”

“I’m sure.” And she is. Danger be damned. “I’m going. I have to.”

She’s had more than enough of time travel. They all have. She’d be happy to never jump again for the rest of her life. But when she regained consciousness after that final battle with Malick and realized the sacrifices that had been made to defeat the Chronicoms for good, she knew immediately that she would be making at least one more trip.

They’d had to do it, the team swore, though they all had a hard time looking her in the eye. Everything, and everyone, had to go back to its rightful place before they could steal the timestream back from Sybil. Daisy didn’t fault them, but her heart broke down to pieces just the same when she woke up to find an empty chair at the foot of her recovery bed.

“He didn’t want to go. He made us promise to tell you that,” Simmons had told her tearfully, needlessly. She already knew.

It took her less than a month to come up with the plan, but a bit longer to convince the rest of the team -- and Daisy still thought of them as a team, scattered though they were now to their own concerns.

What sealed it for everyone else was a newly-discovered footnote from an historical S.H.I.E.L.D. ledger.

“According to public records, Daniel Sousa still died at the Hotel Roosevelt on July 22, 1955, like he was supposed to,” she’d explained on their video conference, even though the words burned in her throat. “But not long after, an underground faction of early S.H.I.E.L.D. agents started to assemble in the Los Angeles office. They organized in secret, and fought against the shadier HYDRA factions, every time one of its slimy snake heads popped out of the ground. They didn’t always win. But they did their best.”

“We know Peggy Carter was one of their leaders,” Daisy told the group. “But there’s no solid information on any of the others.”

“You think Agent Sousa faked his death again. On his own.” Simmons had been the one to put her pieces together, to say out loud the hope that was stuck in her throat.

“We gave him the blueprint,” Daisy nodded. None among them doubted his devotion to rooting out HYDRA, but she knew hope was part of what had her convinced, and she promised she’d weigh their approval before she’d risk her life. “It would be just like him to keep fighting.”

Fitz had mastered the tech in his time away, and had, of course, immediately started constructing a prototype in his backyard before she’d even thought to ask, much to Simmons’ chagrin. As it stands in modern-day Manchester, it looks like a simple phone booth -- a nerdy tribute Daisy’s dying to tease him about -- but he can calibrate it to any coordinates and time in the known universe. And she knows where she needs to be.

“What if he really is dead?” May had been the one to ask the questions no one else dared, though even she had waited for a private phone call to bring them up. “Or what if something happened, and he doesn’t remember you?”

“Then I’ll know for sure,” she’d answered, in part working to convince herself. There was perhaps a fate worse than being forgotten, in this case. “And even if…. even if he doesn’t want to come back, I’ll at least get to say a proper goodbye.”

It was clear everyone had their doubts, but even the most stalwart member of her found family couldn’t deny her that much.

“You’d better come back.” Simmons is tearing up again, and Daisy definitely cannot handle that right now. “Your goddaughter will be waiting.”

That’s been the hardest part of any of this. It had been a surprise when Fitz returned, just moments after they’d successfully banished the Chronicoms back to their own space and time. It had been a bigger surprise that he’d appeared with a pigtailed toddler in his arms, who’d immediately wriggled out of his grasp and wrapped herself familiarly around Simmons’ legs.

Their daughter was two, almost three, when Simmons forced herself to forget her, but she was brilliant, of course, and somehow made of even stronger stuff than her parents. She powered through her mother’s initial shock and dismay and overwhelming guilt, helping to mend all of their hearts in the process. (Fitz had also dutifully shown her pictures of her S.H.I.E.L.D. family, so she recognized “Auntie May,” “Big Mack” and the rest -- and had a special spot in her heart for “Aunt Dede,” which Daisy did not take for granted.)

“I’ll be back,” she promised. “You tell her to read Rocky a story every night for me.”

She and Simmons had stayed up the night before -- after putting the little girl to bed alongside her favorite cuddly toy -- talking through all of the possible contingencies. Almost none of them were worse than never knowing, never getting any sort of closure, her friend had agreed. Almost.

“You remember the order, yeah?”

“Yes, Fitz,” Daisy answers dutifully, trying not to roll her eyes. They’ve been over this fifty times, and drilled it in person at least ten. It’s more time and practice than they ever used to get in the field, on the fly. She’s itching to get a move on. “Launch, exit, cloak the device with the watch…”

“Then, when you’re ready to come back, de-cloak, enter and launch. It should bring you right back here.”

“No matter what,” Simmons chimes in, casting her a look that says much more than her simple reminder. “24 hours is the limit.”

“I know,” Daisy nods, nervously smoothing down her period-appropriate ensemble. “I just need to see him.”

Fitz and Simmons nod solemnly in unison -- if anyone can understand it, it’s them -- and with that, Daisy steps into the booth, preprogrammed with her coordinates, and hits the button on her modified wristwatch.

The jolt of the jump feels familiar, which she takes as a good sign, and when she steps out of the booth, a quick survey of her surroundings allows her to exhale a sigh of relief as she cloaks the pod.

Fitz had plotted out an alley next to the old SSR office in Los Angeles. They know from de-classified S.H.I.E.L.D. documents that the underground corps started in a hidden basement office of the same building, so that’s Daisy’s best guess as to a starting point. It’s a few weeks after his “death,” and if she knows Sousa, he barely missed a day of work.

She double-checks the lobby just to make sure she’s at the right spot, and then sneaks back around the side to slide in through a basement window well. She lands in some kind of storage room, full of file folders and cobwebs, and makes her way to the cluttered, dingy hallway, where, behind a closed, unmarked door, she hears a familiar voice that makes her breath catch in her throat.

“They need to keep thinking I’m dead,” he’s explaining to someone. But he’s not, and the relief is enough to make her brace herself on the doorframe. “And we need to find out what exactly Stark knows about what I was carrying, and more importantly, what he knows about who might be after it.”

Daisy takes a slow, deep breath and knocks softly on the door — and three things happen. First, she hears the conversation go silent, saved for a concerned murmur. Second, Sousa opens the door and she sees him for the first time in months, handsomely square as ever in a dark grey suit and pale green dress shirt. And third, she scans the room and realizes there’s a non-zero chance that she’s about to cry in front of Peggy Carter.

“Daisy?” Sousa’s eyes go wide when he sees her, and it’s hard to be concerned about comporting herself in the presence of the legendary founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. when she’s wondering if his heart is stuttering in his chest the same way as her own.

It hits her in that moment, how much she’s boxed away the memory of him, how much she refused to let herself mourn his loss. He’s right there in front of her -- the man who’d carried her out of Malick’s torture chamber on a bum leg and kept vigil as she healed, the man who’d pushed her towards closure with her mother when she needed it most, the man who had appeared in her life and upended it simply by being kind and loyal and supportive in a way that she’s never known another person to be -- and god, she’s missed him.

“Agent Sousa,” she grins, even as traitorous tears threaten to cloud her vision. “Good to see you again.”

He stares at her, slack-jawed for a long moment, saying only her name again, but softer, and that’s when she realizes she’s frozen too, helpless to move at the consoling sight of him. They only startle from their reverie when the third person in the room primly clears her throat.

“Pardon my manners.” Daisy moves past Sousa, hyper-aware of all the places she brushes against him, to finally break his disbelieving gaze and extend her hand. “Agent Daisy Johnson.”

“She’s CIA,” Sousa adds after her, and they both watch Agent Carter bristle a little, so he tacks on: “One of the good ones.”

“Well if Daniel vouches for you, it much be true,” the woman stands and straightens her skirt, still eying Daisy suspiciously as she reaches out her own hand to shake. “Peggy Carter.”

“Of course I know who you are.” This earns Daisy a small frown, so she scrambles to cover. “From Daniel… er, Sousa -- he’s told me all about the great work you guys are doing here.”

Another frown, and a glance at the man behind her. Daisy realizes after the fact that it would make a better compliment if the work they were doing here wasn’t supposed to be top secret.

“Are you alright?” Sousa’s brain starts catching up, and he reaches out, fingertips brushing against her waist, before pulling his hands back just as suddenly. “Is everything okay? How are you….here?”

“I…” Daisy hazards another awkward glance at Agent Carter, who’s looking at her like she just stepped out of a spaceship, which, honestly? Not far off. “It’s kind of a complicated story.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the other woman offers, her accent masking politeness over her obvious concern. “Then, Daniel, if you-”

“I know,” he answers, though he never takes his eyes off Daisy. “Of course, I-- thank you, we’ll just be a minute.”

“An honor to meet you, truly,” Daisy stutters as Peggy freakin’ Carter exits with a slightly disapproving eyebrow raised in their direction. Simmons is going to kill her.

Sousa closes the door and turns back to face her slowly, almost like he’s preparing himself to find an empty room. But the second his eyes meet hers, the paralyzing effects of surprise and awkwardness fade and Daisy rushes forward into his arms. Burying her face in his neck and catching the scent of his aftershave, she feels herself relax for the first time in a long time.

“Daisy.” He whispers her name, still sounding just as awed, but this time, it’s for her alone. “I thought… is this real?”

“Yes,” she nods into his shoulder, trying not to let him notice that the word comes out on a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry they made you go. Sorry I wasn’t there to stop them. Sorry there wasn’t time to tell you. Like everything else when it comes to him, the apology is so much and not enough, all at once.

“Don’t be sorry.” He pulls back a little, takes her face in his hands and swipes his thumbs at the tears that are smudging her eyes. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“I woke up and you were gone.” She didn't let herself cry about it at the time, the combination of shock and other distractions keeping her emotions occupied. But every time she came to, alone in that healing chamber, was a fresh wave of heartbreak, and they’re all returning to her now, on a tide of tears. “And I--”

“I didn’t want to go,” Sousa interrupts, reaching down to squeeze her hands in his.

She just nods, still taking in the sight of him. “I know.”

“Why— how are you here now?” His brow furrows and she knows exactly where he’s gone, from shock to worry. “Is everything okay?”

It’s the kind concern in his eyes, the way he’s still steady and supportive, even when she’s dropped in from the future, unannounced, pulling the rug out from under him once again. (If she’s totally honest, it’s also the set of his jaw and the memory of how his chest felt beneath her palms.) Daisy lets herself give in, reaching up for his shirt collar in a familiar movement, and pulls him down to capture his lips. Just like before, he pauses for a second and then gives chase, kissing her back with a passion she thought she’d been exaggerating in her memories.

“Sorry,” she whispers again when they pause for a breath, even though this time she’s really not.

“Please don’t be sorry for that,” he grins, blinking his eyes open slowly. She remembers that soft look of wonder, from a stolen moment when there wasn’t enough time to bask in it.

“I just- We did that once before,” she admits, “back in the time loops. But you didn’t remember.”

“Well, now I’m extra glad you came back, if only to remind me,” he grins, and it makes her want to kiss him all over again. So she does. But he keeps this one quick, pulling back to ask again, “How did you come back? What’s the plan here?”

Daisy doesn’t quite realize what he’s asking at first.

“Fitz knocked off the Chronicom tech and built his own pod,” she answers, fluttering her hand to the side before bringing it back to his lapel. “I’ve got 24 hours before I’ve got to bring it back.”

There’s a question that goes along with her explanation, but she can’t find the words to ask it just yet, not when the answer could break what’s left of her heart. Instead, she tells him the first truth at the front of her mind. “I just missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers. His hands are warm around her waist and she has the fleeting thought that it’s been worth it, even if this is all she gets. And then, because she didn’t catch his meaning the first time, because some part of him knows some part of her better than anyone ever has, he just... asks.

“So, can I come back?”

Daisy goes light-headed with possibility. It can’t be this easy. “What?”

“Can I come back with you?” She watches for a joke in his eyes but it’s the same old earnest Sousa. “Will they let me? Will it… end the world?”

“No. I mean, yes. Are you sure?” She’s not even sure if her words are forming coherent sentences. Every relationship in her life has been fraught with conflict and heartbreak, for as long as she can remember -- and this one she just gets to have?

“Yes, I’m sure.” Now the teasing smile makes a hint of an appearance. “I’ve been wondering if you’d come back for me since the minute I woke up back in my old house.”

That confession hits her sideways, just like it had when she asked if he was the type who liked picking other people back up when they fell, and he’d looked into her eyes -- and even deeper -- and answered: “Not for everyone.”

She knows what the longing has been like for her. But she had so much more time with it than he did. They never even came close to defining this...thing, this flint of friction that gives off sparks between them, and still, he’s just been here. Waiting.

“You had goodbyes you wanted to say, loose ends,” she recalls, trying to clear the whiplash from her mind. The last thing she wants is for him to take the leap and regret it halfway down.

She shuffles a small step back, but unwilling to completely lose contact, takes one of his hands in her own, studying it intently as she offers him the easy out.

“Daisy.” Sousa lets out a little humorless laugh. “You know they had to knock me out to send me back, right?”

She didn’t know that, actually, and her fists start to clench in an instinctive response. But he eases them open, drawing her gently back towards him, and she follows.

“My loose ends aren’t in the past anymore,” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the pulse point at her wrist. “I came back and I made my peace -- said what I needed to say to the people that needed to hear it.”

He glances towards at the door -- she’d known that one of those conversations was always meant for Peggy Carter -- and then back at her, and she believes him. Somehow she trusted him from the beginning, even when she had little more than his name and photo on an old S.H.I.E.L.D. file, and she trusts him now more than ever, even as a tiny bit of skepticism is still warring with her hopeful heart.

“But your team. The underground S.H.I.E.L.D. force. That’s you, isn’t it? You and Carter?”

“It is. And a few others. They’re gonna do good work, I know it.” She nods a confirmation. They will. “But I built it so I can lift right out. They’re a well-oiled machine already. Plus, everyone already figures my days are numbered.”

He’s been planning for this. For her. Of all the possible outcomes, she hadn’t even thought to hope for one where he was waiting with his bags packed, metaphorical or otherwise. He’s a constant surprise and it makes her heart leap to dangerous places every time.

“I went back to work because I’m devoted to the cause,” Sousa continues, “but if you think I haven’t spent every free moment trying to figure a way back to you, thinking about what I’d do if I saw you again...”

“Daniel...” There isn’t much more to say but his name, and even that’s difficult when her throat is thick with emotion.

“Unless you don’t want me to.” He saves her again, breaking the heavy moment by teasing her some more.

“Of course I do,” Daisy answers, swiping under her eyes. “But I’m gonna ask if you're sure a couple hundred more times.”

He nods, lips pursed. “My answer won’t change.”

“Okay, but we do have some time,” she reminds him with a nervous laugh, even as she’s starting to have faith in his certainty. “You want to sleep on it? Get some dinner or something?”

He grins even wider. “Yeah, you know, pizza sounds good. Your place? In about sixty years?”

She rolls her eyes at him, achingly grateful for even the hint of their familiar dynamic amid all this intensity. “All right, all right, old man. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” She reaches up to soothe her thumb over the crinkle beside his eye, another tiny detail she’s spent the last few months missing. “But you can keep reminding me.”

He catches her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm and promising, “I can do that.”

She takes a deep breath as he gathers his suit jacket from the back of the chair. Here goes everything. It’s not until they turn to leave that she realizes.

“Do you need to…”

He’s a little solemn when he catches her meaning, but she’s surprised when it doesn’t make her worry. “Give me just a moment with Peggy, and I’ll meet you…”

“In the alleyway,” she finishes. “I came in through the storage room.”

He nods, and tugs her close for a hard and fast kiss to her lips that has her still dazed when she grasps for the door handle.

To Agent Carter’s credit, she only looks slightly impatient when Daisy exits, pursing her lips as she brushes past her in the narrow hallway, unsure of what else to do or say. There’s an echoing silence that borders on uncomfortable, and then the other woman speaks.

“He’s been different lately,” she offers softly, like a secret, before she’s close enough for Sousa to hear, and Daisy stops in her tracks.

“I thought it was the obvious. I got the sense he was weighing his days after nearly dying. But he’s been waiting for you, hasn’t he?”

Daisy nods, sheepishly, turning back to meet eyes that impossibly seem to already know what’s about to happen. “To be fair,” she answers, truthfully, “I was waiting for him, too.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. founder gives her a small smile then, and to her surprise, it’s one she recognizes from the mirror. It’s genuine, but sad, and Daisy feels it even deeper because she knows that an affection for the kind and loyal man waiting on them both isn’t the only emotional baggage they have in common. (A very small, very selfish part of her counts her blessings, though, that the other woman hadn’t been able to love Sousa the way he deserves.)

She nods in return, and makes her way back down the hallway, back through the cluttered room, back out to the alley, and back to where she first landed, where she ends up standing, waiting, twisting her hands nervously for the second time in just a few hours. But before she even has long enough to start worry that he’s having second thoughts, Daniel rounds the corner with a suitcase in hand and a grin on his face she wants to remember forever.

“You’re ready?” she asks. He nods, never breaking his stride or her gaze. “You’re sure?”

“I told you,” he assures, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “my answer’s not changing.”

“And Carter?” She takes his hand to step him back against the building, away from where their portal might appear. It’s only partially a distraction from an nerves that might be lingering on her face.

“She understands.” Sousa laces their fingers together and squeezes. “And I may have told her there’s a chance I could pop back around someday, if she needs me.”

He’s not totally out of line. Fitz had warned that the tech was to be used for emergencies only, but Simmons will surely convince him that anything involving Peggy Carter constitutes a proper emergency.

“She doesn’t seem like someone who would be very supportive of a team member jumping ship mid-mission,” Daisy observes, aiming for casual, as she uncloaks the device, which is, thankfully, right where she left it. “Pun not intended.”

“She’s not, usually. But I told her the truth.” A spark of fear lights inside her chest, but he puts it out immediately. “Just enough of it. I trust her.”

“Well, if there’s anyone who can keep a secret...”

Daniel ducks his head in agreement and adds softly, “And then... I asked her if there was anything she wouldn’t do, to have more time.”

There it is again, that cymbal crash of her heart that takes her breath away. Daisy’s never known a man like this, and while she knows the future is always uncertain, she’s grateful to the abstract laws of time, science, fate and whatever else that she doesn’t have to lose him to the past.

“So, where are we headed?” Daniel follows her into the booth with a hand at the small of her back. It’s a bit of a tighter fit than her arrival trip, but neither of them mind in the slightest.

“If the wind is right, English countryside, 2020,” she answers with a grin. It’s a bit of luck that threading her arms around his neck allows her to kiss him and press the button on her wrist at the same time.

“We’re going home, Agent Sousa.”

#first mate fic #dousy #daisy x sousa #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #sousy #daisysous #agents of shield #dousy fic #aos fic

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 16

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/625552318938611712/the-long-way-around-chapter-15

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 3050

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

I sigh, pulling on my tennis shoes. “Can we do this later? I’m not feeling it.” It’s only been six hours since our last drill, I haven’t heard from Jasper, and the burn in my throat has yet to fade from six hours ago. I just want to be left alone.

“No.” Rosalie’s voice is firm, and she reaches down a hand to pull me up. “You need to be consistent otherwise you’ll lose progress. No more moping.” Now, she gives me a shove towards my bedroom door, “I’ve let this go on for too long.”

Childishly, I take slow steps towards the door. I really just want to get back in bed and watch some Netflix or something. “It’s not like it’s your fault. I’m just not in the mood.”

“Look,” Rosalie sighs, placing her hands on her hips. “Being away from your mate is hard, I get it. Emmett and I hate being away from each other, but-”

Her words register, and I have to cut her off. It’s something that’s been bothering me since the fight, when Cora addressed Jasper. She’d asked him if he was willing to die in the place of his mate, and she’d meant me. And now, Rosalie throws the term casually into conversation. My mind floats back to that discussion Jasper and I had all those months ago, about mates, and I know that the term is anything but casual; it’s equivalent to an eternal, undying commitment.

“Yeah, about that.” Rosalie’s eyebrows raise, presumably at being interrupted, but she speaks no further. I play with my fingers, glad Jasper’s not here to feel my insecurity and nervousness. It might give him the wrong impression. “That word has been thrown around a lot recently.”

Now, a smile quirks across Rosalie’s lips. “Does that bother you?”

“No, not bother,” I’m quick to correct. “It definitely does not bother me, it just…y’know, means a lot.”

“And that worries you?” This time, her guess is correct.

Timidly, I nod. It feels dumb to be admitting all of this, but it’s the truth. “It just feels so fast to be feeling this way.”

Rosalie takes a small step towards me, and her voice is kind when she speaks. “You guys go at whatever pace feels comfortable for you. All I’ll say, is when you know, you know. And there’s no going back.” She heaves a sigh, and then smiles. “Now, get your butt in the backyard. You are not getting out of training just cause you’re in love.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow her out of the house. I’ll have to make time to mull over my thoughts later, when I’m alone.

When we reach the backyard, which is really just a clearing in between the massive house and the forest, Emmett is waiting, and so is a scent that throws me into an immediate predator-like crouch.

“Emmett, you’re supposed to wait until she’s prepared to open the bag,” Rosalie chides, looking at me warily.

Emmett shrugs, a wide, unbothered grin across his face. “I’m taking it up a notch.”

Just the fact that I can register their conversation shows me how far I’ve come. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been laser-focused on the squishy bag fifty yards from me. I use the knowledge of my progress as a lifeline and force myself out of my crouch.

The footsteps racing toward me give barely a second to react before I’m slammed onto the ground with the force of a freight train. I snarl, fighting to get the dead weight off of me. The weight snarls back, and I recognize the sound instantly as that of another vampire. He must have smelled the blood and come to fight me for it. With that knowledge, my new goal becomes escape and, if possible, escape plus satisfaction in the form of guzzling the packaged human blood. But my first priority is set. With a growl, I grip the shoulders of my assailant, using my strength and my ability to put him on the ground. The man gasps in response to my attack, and soon a groan is drawn from his lips. My hands tingle, the only physical sign that I’d used my powers. Once the man is on the ground, I hold him down with a knee on his chest. I’m about to hit him with a wave of fire to further incapacitate him, when I notice the contorted, yet familiar, face below me.

“Arthur,” I gasp, hurrying off of him.

He takes a few steadying breaths but looks at me with a glint in his eye. “Nice job.”

“Yes,” another voice agrees as Edward hurries to join our group. “That was very controlled, Y/n.”

“Controlled?” I’m sure my eyes must be bulging comically. “I about made my friend think he’d been set on fire just so I could have some packaged blood.”

The blood. I freeze as I realize I had been ignoring it. Not unaware of it, exactly, just not prioritizing it. Experimentally, I take a shallow breath through my mouth. The fire ignites, but I fight through it. I take another breath, and another, eventually working up to a deep breath through my nose. That hits me the hardest, but with gritted teeth and much effort, I push down the urge to follow the scent.

Oh wow.

My face breaks in a grin to match that of Rose, Emmett, Arthur, and Edward.

Even now, fully aware of the sweet smell, I can ignore the urge to go after it. The temptation, as well as the painful burn in my throat, are very much present, but I can control my instincts. I am controlled.

“Aha!” I exclaim in joy and jump in the air, elevating about twelve feet before crashing back into the ground, leaving a small crater.

I bask in the congratulation from my friends as well as in my newfound optimism. Maybe Jasper is right. We might actually be able to go on a trip soon, just the two of us.

I swallow at the implication.

We’ve never been alone before for an extended period of time. Even our two trips to the waterfall were relatively brief.

Now that I know it’s a real possibility, I ache for uninterrupted time with Jasper.

But then my thoughts shift and I’m returned to a state of worry as I face the harsh reality that none of us have heard from either Carlisle, Esme, or Jasper in well over six hours.

The fact that Edward hears my thoughts and can offer no reassurance makes me feel even worse.

Emmett notices the shift in my mood. “Wanna wrestle?”

Usually I refrain, but right now, that actually sounds kind of fun. At the very least, it will distract me.

Hesitantly, I nod, and Emmett grins widely. After tossing the now tightly closed bag to Rosalie (who discards it safely), Emmett draws me further away from the house.

“Esme will kill us if she comes back to crushed brick,” he explains.

Edward chortles. “What, again?”

“Hey you’re next baby bro,” Emmett teases, his grin never slipping.

We circle each other for a few minutes. Then, with barely any warning, he lunges.

We grapple. I’ve been a vampire for nearly eleven months now, and my newborn strength is all but gone. Emmett is definitely stronger than me. My advantages lie in my speed—Emmett’s size makes him slightly slower than others—and in my ability. Still, I’m very hesitant to cause my lovable friend pain, so I keep a tight reign on my powers.

Emmett manages to get his arms around my middle and tosses me about two hundred yards. I slam into a tree, taking it down with me. But before it has a chance to hit the ground, I’m standing in front of Emmett, using his shoulders to throw him off balance. Just as I’m about to kick him in the stomach, a low move, I know, Edward’s phone rings. Immediately, we all freeze, guessing who will be on the other end of the call, but in the dark as to what news they will provide.

“Carlisle?” Edward’s voice is terse, a vocal expression of the feelings raging inside my heart. Please, please let Jasper be okay.

“Edward, we are on our way home. The conversation went well.” Carlisle’s voice is calm, optimistic even, and my friends exhale sighs of relief. I can’t quite relax yet though. Not until…

Thankfully, Edward hears the frantic tone to my thoughts and takes pity.

“Is everyone alright? Where are Esme and Jasper?”

“Everyone is just fine. Esme is checking us out and Jasper’s running a quick errand before we leave for the airport.”

I let out a shaky breath, nearly falling to the ground as all the tension leaves my body. He’s okay. He’s coming home.

“Wonderful,” Edward enthuses. “When should we expect you?”

“Our flight is supposed to land around five tomorrow morning, and we should reach the house around eight.”

The three hour drive between our small town and the nearest international airport suddenly seems incredibly rude. Perhaps…

Immediately, Edward shakes his head in my direction. “You’re not ready for that.”

“But you said I was controlled!” Inwardly, I cringe. My voice sounds like that of a whiny teenager.

“Controlled for the exercises, yes, but it will be completely different when you’re surrounded by humans, even if you stay in the car,” he tacks on, knowing my next argument. “Besides, Carlisle parked his Mercedes at the airport. It makes no sense to drive there when he already has a car waiting.”

I fight back a groan. I just want to see Jasper. I miss his hugs, his scent, the feel of his hand in mine, the way he smirks when I tug on his hair, cuddling up and reading or watching movies, the sound of his laugh-

Edward’s kind chuckle breaks through my thoughts. “Just eighteen more hours.”

Pursing my lips, I check my watch. It’s just past two-thirty. I can distract myself for seventeen hours and twenty-four minutes. Right?

Edward focuses back on his conversation with Carlisle, but I tune him out. I can get all the details later, from Jasper. All that matters now is that they’re safe, they’re coming home, and that the mission was successful.

I think of ways to fill my time. Hunting would certainly be a fun occupation, but I quickly dismiss the idea. Jasper will want to go when he returns, and I would rather go with him. Heck, we might get a whole family trip out of it if Carlisle and Esme need to go, too. I could kill a few more hours wrestling with Emmett though, eventually, we were sure to get sick of throwing each other around. Randomly, a thought strikes me, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Bella, Alice, Rose” I call, hurrying back towards the house.

{***}

Seven grueling hours later, we’ve amassed our supplies. Paint cans and pillows and fabric and wood and brushes and tools and baskets and a million other tiny objects crowd my room. It seemed much larger before we crammed all this in.

While the girls had kindly set up a room for me after my transformation, it lacked, well, me. The style was very generic and resembled more of a guest room than someone’s personal space.

I decided it was time for a change.

Bella lost interest hours ago and was now off somewhere with Edward, so Rose had roped Emmett into being our fourth set of hands.

“I like the pink, but that’s just me,” Emmett contributes, sounding surprisingly emphatic.

Rosalie groans. “I asked for base colors, not accent colors.”

Emmett makes a face that quite explicitly communicates the word, ‘geesh.’

I hold back a laugh and instead focus on studying the samples of paint in front of me. One in particular stands out, and I relay my decision to the group. We begin painting, each of us taking a wall. Arthur seems to feel left out and joins us about halfway through, and Rosalie puts him to work building a window seat.

Soon, my walls boast a calming sage color, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Yes. Arthur’s constructed a lovely window seat complete with little doors on the bottom to give me extra storage, and I thank him profusely. It’s truly beautiful. Alice disappears and comes back with the perfect lace curtains, and I actually squeal. I would have never thought to include lace but, seeing it in context, I can’t deny that it’s just perfect.

To add a bit of depth (in Rosalie’s words, anyway), we throw in some hints of lavender, cream, and brown. Pleased with my reaction to his window seat, Arthur and Alice craft a bookshelf, and then leave in search of the perfect chair and table. While they’re gone, Rosalie, Emmett, and I talk bedding. After a surprising amount of arguing, we decide on a cream duvet and many pillows in variations of cream, lavender, and coffee.

Alice must have been notified of our decisions (by means of text or supernatural premonition, I don’t know), and returns bearing many gifts. She and Arthur set the items gently on my bedroom floor: a dusty pink vintage chair, a carefully distressed cream circular end table, a small cream pillow (presumably for the chair), a handful of startlingly large blankets, and hanging twinkly lights for above my bed. I about burst with excitement.

Not about to be outdone, Emmett leaves and returns exactly one hour later bearing a huge flat-screen TV. He grins as he and Arthur rebuild the bookshelf into a larger bookshelf-entertainment center-combo. It’s truly awesome.

With five hours before Jasper’s arrival, my room is finished. I can’t help but beam as we slide the last of my books into place on the carefully organized shelf.

“You guys….” Emotion makes my voice tight. In my, albeit fuzzy, human memory, I can’t locate a time when my friends had gone to such lengths to help me, to make me happy. I’m truly, deeply grateful for these people I get to call my friends. More than that, my family. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

They respond with smiles and an easy chorus of phrases diminishing their instrumental roles. I just pull them in for a group hug, which is met with varying levels of appreciation, and can’t help but laugh.

They leave me alone to enjoy my new space but also so they can finish cleaning up before Esme gets home. I feel bad, them having to take trips to the dump and various stores on my behalf, but Edward is right. I’m not ready to be surrounded by actual humans. Still, I’m eager to show Jasper my progress. He’ll be proud of me.

The thought of my love—for, as much as it scares me to think of him that way, he surely is— causes me to pause. Now that my room is all nice, it seems unfair for him to have to come home to find his untouched. A flash of a weak human memory confirms my theory: I had just returned from a week long school trip and found my room clean with freshly washed sheets. Someone—my mom or my dad?—had figured I would be tired and knew I would appreciate the act. Hopefully, Jasper would too. I exit my room and turn up the staircase to the top floor. Jasper’s room is located at the eastern corner of the house, and I head in that direction. When I get to his door, I pause. I’d been in here many times before, but never without him. Would he be upset? Would he consider this an invasion of his privacy? Those fears nearly send me back down the stairs but, reviewing what I know of his character, Jasper wouldn’t be angry. He probably wouldn’t even care. So, I push the door open.

Jasper’s scent, while faint, hits me, and I close my eyes, savoring. It’s been days since I’ve been surrounded by the comforting warmth of him, and my heart aches for his return.

I want to kick myself for being so besotted. Who was I, that I would be reduced to such sadness at just a few days away from my boyfriend?

I sigh, knowing the truth.

But he’s not just my boyfriend. Jasper is my mate. Neither of us is human anymore, so human standards cannot apply to us. What I feel for him is so completely…more than any human could ever even conceive of feeling.

I swallow under the weight of my admission. Put simply, I know deep in my gut that Jasper and I will be together for eternity. And, if death ever tries to do us part, it will not succeed. Whether in after-life or whatever comes next, we will be together.

Oof.

Needing to focus on something other than these intensities, I hurry to Jasper’s bed and strip the sheets and pillowcases. His room is spotless, so there’s not much work for me there. Still, while his bedding is in the washer, I busy myself with dusting, While wiping off one of his shelves, I find a couple of my books I’d noticed were missing, and roll my eyes. Thief. In retaliation, I take his favorite chessboard and shove it under my bed. Now, we’re even.

Once the bedding is finished drying, I replace it and smooth it out, making the bed as best I can. Vampirism is supposed to make you good at everything, but I can’t quite replicate the tightly fitted corners Jasper creates with ease. Eh, good enough. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, right?

I replenish the washing machine with Carlisle and Esme’s bedding next, not wanting to leave them out. Just because I’m not ridiculously in love with them doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have freshly washed sheets too, right?

By the time I’m done with my various cleaning, it’s only two hours until Jasper’s arrival. Alice can sense my anticipation, and invites me to watch a movie with her. I accept but, instead of focusing on the classic plot, count down the minutes until I can hear the car’s wheels on the drive.

A/n Thank you for all your kind words on my last update! Each reply, like, and reblog makes me smile and I truly appreciate you taking the time out of your day to do that! Don’t forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/625820783935160320/the-long-way-around-chapter-17

Tag list: @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li @femflorals @80strashbag @tomisbaeholland @heyimval13 @triscuitcracker @deviantly-gayy @sleepywinnie847 @vexingcosmos @avalongrey @artms-blnd

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icyharrington · 4 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships

wc: 4.2k

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns @langdonskillerqueen @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

#michael langdon #is it wrong #michael langdon x reader #mine #michael langdon fic #ahs #american horror story #apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #cody fern #x reader #ahs x reader

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“She Keeps Me Warm” F!Reader x Tara Chambler

Summary: You had lived in Alexandria for about six months when Rick’s group arrived. The first time you meet Tara, she is everything and more. When she offers to help you search for you father who had gone missing months before, you take her up on the offer, making some new friends along the way and maybe even finding your person in the new horrible world.

Word Count: 6948

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “She Keeps Me Warm” by Mary Lambert

Note: I don’t know why I am suddenly awful at summaries, but there you go. Essentially, I just love Tara so much and wanted to write an imagine with her. I miss her so much! I am in the process of filling another request but I wanted to post this one first. Love ya. ALSO let me know if you want to be added to my main taglist for all my stories!

-----

It had been nearly a week since you had been home.

You knew it was reckless and selfish for you to be away for so long without checking in, but any time you thought about going home, your father’s face would flash in your mind and you would tell yourself just one more day. However, as per usual, the world caught up with you and after taking a rather nasty fall and twisting your ankle, you decided to head home to Alexandria.

You could already imagine the look on both Aaron and Enid’s faces. It would most likely be a mixture of worry and disappointment. You weren’t sure how Enid was always able to say so much with just a single look. Perhaps it was all the time she spent on her own, just trying to survive. Whatever it was, you admired her even more because of it.

When you and your father had shown up at Alexandria with Aaron around six months before, you noticed that Enid was always alone. When you had asked Aaron about the teenager, he had explained that she had been alone when she came to the gates and that all she had said was that both of her parents had been killed by the Dead. You could empathize with her as you had lost your mother and brother at the start of it all. Then when your father disappeared, it had only tightened the bond between you and the girl. She was like the little sister you never had and you would die for each other.

As the gates of your home came into view, you breathed a sigh of relief. While you wanted to keep searching for your father, your bed and a hot shower were calling your name. As you rolled to a stop outside the gates, you honked twice, leaning out the window.

“Open the gate, morons!” you called. The disgruntled face of Nicholas appeared as he slid open the fence. You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. The two of you had never gotten along and you really disliked the guy. He acted as if he was invincible to the new world, but you knew that if he was ever faced with a herd of the Dead, he’d turn tail and run. Pulling your car into Alexandria, you shut off the engine and climbed out. Nicholas closed the gate behind, latching it shut. “What’s new, Nick?” you asked, leaning against the back of the car.

“Aaron brought new people in,” he grumbled.

“And let me guess, ya don’t like them?” you said, already knowing the answer. Nicholas was never happy when people “invaded” his home. It was most definitely the reason he didn’t like you.

“They’re arrogant and proud and the leader is some kind of psychopath,” he spat. You considered his words, trying to imagine his face as this new group strutted through the streets of ASZ.

“They sound like my kind of people,” you grinned and he huffed, storming past you. Your eyes followed him, trying not to laugh at his immature nature when you spotted someone running towards you. You smiled even wider as Enid came jogging down the street. Her boots pounded against the pavement, her hair flew back behind her. Reaching you, she tossed her arms around you and you held her close, trying not to fall over. “Woah, easy there En, I’m operating on half a leg,” you joked.

Enid pulled back immediately, scanning you for your injury. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worried. You gripped her shoulder reassuringly.

“Just a twisted ankle. I’m all good. Few days of rest and I’ll be back one hundred percent,” you promised. Enid gave you a small smile as she relaxed. “Grab that other bag in the back, will you?” Enid nodded and went to fetch the backpack you had loaded up with some new clothes for the both of you. You weren’t looking for supplies, but when you came across an abandoned boutique, you couldn’t help but pick up some jeans, socks, etc for your communal closet back at home.

You hiked your own bag up onto your shoulder and then Enid was there, offering her arm as support. You gratefully slung your arm around her shoulders as you limped up the street. Enid looked at your shirt that was splashed with dark blood and wrinkled her nose. “Rough couple of days?” she asked.

“No more than usual,” you said, shrugging off your appearance. “I heard about the new people. Anyone interesting?”

“Haven’t really paid them any attention,” Enid said, looking at the ground.

“Meaning you’ve observed them from afar and you don’t trust them,” you said, easily seeing through her facade.

“They have a baby,” she said, looking back up at you, “and some of them seem nice, but I don’t know.”

“Well, Nicholas looked less than thrilled.”

“Not really surprising,” Enid scoffed. She hated Nicholas as much as you did, but she wasn’t as vocal about it as you. The two of you headed up the road, passing a few of the neighbors here and there. Since arriving, they hadn’t completely warmed up to you, but you weren’t a neighborly person before the Apocalypse and you weren’t going to start now. As you and Enid slowly made your way towards the center of town, you could see some of the new people. There were about seven of them milling around the gazebo talking to the Monroes. Deanna was explaining something to who you figured was the leader based on his stance and the way he stood at the head of his group. Aidan was by his mother’s side and Spencer looked as if he was trying to get the attention of one of the women, a pretty brunette who looked as if she’d rather lay in a pile of Dead than speak to him.

As soon as you were in his sights, however, Spencer pushed away from the woman and walked toward you, his arms spread wide. “Well be still my heart, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has returned to us!” he bellowed, strutting towards you.

“Gross,” Enid muttered under her breath and you had to bite your cheeks to keep from laughing. Spencer stopped in front of you and beamed down at you.

“Spencer,” you greeted.

“What’s wrong, you hurt?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, Monroe. Enid makes a pretty great crutch,” you joked. Spencer laughed, earning a glare from the teenager at your side. He coughed awkwardly.

“If you need help, I could give you a lift home,” he said wagging his brows. Enid gagged and then started to pull you away from him.

“I think we got it from here!” You called over your shoulder at him. This time you did laugh, unable to keep a straight face anymore. “That is why we don’t have friends,” you whispered to Enid.

“We have Aaron,” she pointed out.

“This is true,” you agreed, pulling her tighter against you. As you passed Deanna, you gave her a salute. She then ushered you towards her and you begrudgingly nudged Enid over to your leader.

“(Y/N)!” Deanna greeted, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” you said as you tried to keep the weight off your bad ankle. Enid stood next to you quiet as a mouse and you squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, knowing how uncomfortable she was in social situations.

“This is Rick Grimes,” Deanna continued, gesturing to the man in front of her. “He and his family came here a couple of days ago. They’re actually staying in the house across from yours.” She then turned to Rick, “(Y/N) is one of our best fighters and helps keep this place safe.” Rick reached out to take your hand and you met him halfway. When you let go, you glanced down at your red smeared palm.

“Sorry about that,” you said sheepishly as you wiped the dried blood on your jeans, “I think that was from either an accountant or a really bad dressed lawyer.” A laugh came from behind Rick at your joke and you saw a very pretty brunette woman. Her dark eyes met yours and she awkwardly smiled at you.

“Sorry,” she said to Rick, “it was funny.” Rick shook his head at his friend, clearly amused. “I’m Tara,” she said with a small wave.

“Hey,” you greeted with a smile of your own. Turning your attention back to Rick, you grabbed your backpack strap tightly. “I’d love to talk more, but if I don’t get off this ankle soon, I’m going down and taking Enid here with me.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rick said and you nodded to him. Enid, gripped you tight and started to pull you towards home.

“Bye!” Tara said as you walked away. You shot her another smile over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

“I like that one,” you said to Enid who just rolled her eyes.

------

As Rick and the others watched you and Enid leave, Aaron jogged up to the group.

“I just made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?” Tara asked Abraham who clapped her on the shoulder.

“Seems that way, sugar plum!” Abraham said. Tara hid her face in her hands while Glenn patted her back in solidarity.

“Was that (Y/N)?” Aaron asked, looking up the street.

“She just got back,” Aidan told him.

“How long has she been here?” Michonne asked Deanna.

“What would you say, Aaron? Six months or so?” Deanna asked, turning to Aaron who turned his attention back to the people before him.

“Yeah, I brought her and her father here after that big wind storm,” Aaron said, nodding.

“Her father is here too?” Tara asked and then the Monroes and Aaron got quiet. “What?”

“He’s missing,” Aaron explained. “He went outside the walls about a month after they got here and then just never came back. That’s why (Y/N) goes out there so much. She’s looking for him.”

“He was a cop,” Spencer added, leaning against a lamppost. “She found his shield not that long ago, but that’s all the evidence we’ve seen.”

“Didn’t nobody help her look?” Daryl asked, sizing up the older Monroe brother.

“We did,” Spencer shot back. “But we can’t chase ghosts forever.” Aaron then shot an annoyed look at Spencer and Rick caught it immediately.

“(Y/N) has been nothing but an asset to Alexandria since she got here,” Aaron defended. “She has saved your life twice, Spencer, not to mention how she puts everyone else before her, especially Enid.”

“Enid’s the girl?” Michonne asked, remembering Carl mentioning her at some point. Aaron nodded.

“Enid wouldn’t talk to anyone after she got here. The girl had just lost her parents and it was hard even getting her to eat some days. Then (Y/N) had shown up and those two bonded immediately. They’re like sisters now.”

“Aaron,” Deanna interjected, “nobody is saying she isn’t important, but you know we all worry about her.”

“And you also know that until she finds him or a body, she’s not going to stop,” Aaron said before turning away and walking up the street towards your house.

“Aaron is very protective of them both,” Aidan explained. Rick nodded, understanding immediately. You and Enid were his family.

———

By the time the sun set, you couldn’t take being on the couch anymore.

Enid had gone off to do whatever she did when she disappeared either between the houses or beyond the walls. You had been worried about her at first, but soon learned to trust her to keep herself safe. You figured if she had survived all that time alone without any issues, she could handle it just fine in the surrounding woods. The only rule you had was that she had to tell you she was leaving and then get within your sights when she came back so you knew not to go trekking through the woods to find her.

Looking around the living room, you began to get annoyed with the vacant walls and pushed yourself to your feet. Shoving your feet back into your boots, you headed to the garage. You could already hear Enid’s chastising voice in your head as you ignored her earlier command of staying off your feet for the rest of the day.

However, boredom was not something you coped with well. Pulling up the large garage door, you clicked on the light switch and began sorting through all of your supplies. Anytime you came home with food, medicine, or essentials, you always put it in the communal storage, but anything else you found that wasn’t necessarily vital to the survival of Alexandria, you kept it in the garage.

It was mostly things you found on your way out of a place. Old records, obsolete technology, books, or even parts for cars, bikes, etc. It was like having your own thrift shop in your house and the miscellaneous items always gave you a bit of comfort. You figured it was because they all reminded you of how things used to be.

You were sorting through an old box of punk albums when you heard a knock against the side of the garage door. You turned to see Tara standing there, a small smile on her face.

“Hi,” you greeted, setting down the record in your hands. Tara clasped her hands together, gently rocking back on her heels.

“Hi, back,” she said and then cringed at her own words causing you to laugh.

“I’d offer you a beer but I think all we have is half-empty water bottles,” you said, leaning against the workbench. Tara chuckled and then began walking around the garage, looking at everything you had collected.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Tara said, gesturing to your task. You waved her off.

“Ah, I was just trying to keep my hands busy,” you said, “Couldn’t take any more of my walls staring back at me as I did nothing.”

“How’s your foot?” Tara asked, gesturing to the bandage peeking out the top of your boot. Enid had expertly wrapped it for you when you had gotten home.

“Bit sore, but I’ve had worse, you know?” She nodded. “And what about you?”

“Me? My foot’s fine,” Tara said, confused. You laughed again and she blushed slightly. You couldn’t help the thrill that went through you at the thought that you made this beautiful woman blush.

“I meant, how are you doing here?” You clarified, gesturing around. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh!” Tara exclaimed, “Yeah, it’s a bit of an adjustment. We were on the road for so long and I don’t know, this is all very alien. Though, it is nice not to be looking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure there aren’t any Walkers nearby.”

“Walkers? Is that what you call them?” You asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, well, that’s what the others called them when I met them and it just sort of stuck.”

“I suppose it’s a lot easier than saying Dead people or those things,” you said with a chuckle. “Walkers. I like it.” You both were quiet after that and then you coughed awkwardly as she stared at you. “Uh, Enid, she said you had a baby with you guys, how’s she or he doing?” Tara brightened at the mention of the child.

“She’s great! Healthy as ever,” Tara said. “Her name is Judith, she’s Rick’s kid, well his other kid. There’s Carl too.”

“Two kids?”

“Technically three with Noah, but he’s not a Grimes. He’s just a teenager we met in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago.”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a couple of weeks,” you said, hopping up onto the table, crossing your ankles. Tara sighed as she walked over and leaned against the table next to you.

“You have no idea…” she said, her eyes a bit far away. “Any advice for livin’ here?” Tara asked, returning her attention to you.

“Stay away from Spencer?” You offered, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s not my type,” said Tara.

“Good to know,” you said, staring down at your boots with a small smile.

-----

Once the two of you had gotten over the initial awkwardness, you found that you loved talking to Tara. She was kind, funny, and she always said what was on her mind. She had tried to walk back on some of the things she had said, but you encouraged her to never apologize for speaking her mind.

Along with Tara, you had begun speaking with the other members of her group. Glenn was the first person to reach out and start a conversation. You had been hanging out on your front steps when he had come out of the house across the street with his wife, Maggie, and introduced himself. Maggie was kind, but you had to admit that she intimidated you.

Then there was Michonne who had approached you about security measures. Deanna had made her and Rick constables for Alexandria. You weren’t sure why ASZ needed cops. It wasn’t as if any of the residents actually understood how the new world worked. You had explained that to Michonne, telling her that if the community was going to survive, then it’s original members needed to learn how it worked outside of the gates as well as in and breaking up petty fights and disagreements, wasn’t going to help their survival skills. She said she would take your advice to Rick and that was that.

The only other member of Grimes’ group you had somewhat of a conversation with was the hunter, Daryl. You hadn’t meant to talk to him, but Aaron and Eric had invited him over to their house to work on the motorcycle that had sat undisturbed since before the Turn. You had tried to figure out a way to fix the damn thing, but mechanics weren’t your thing. However, Daryl Dixon was all over it. He looked at the bike like it was the Holy Grail.

You had gone over to Aaron’s place in search of liquor when you found the redneck in the garage crouched down by the bike. “Finally,” you said, walking down the steps, getting his attention, “I was wonderin’ when someone was going to give that thing some love.” Daryl looked at you confused. “I’m (Y/N),” you said.

“I know,” he responded. “Aaron’s friend.”

“Is that what people call me?” you laughed making your way over to the cabinet at the other end of the garage.

“I don’t think it was meant as an insult,” Daryl said, getting to his feet.

“Never said it was,” you said, throwing him a wink over your shoulder. You opened the cabinet and pulled out a tucked away bottle of whiskey. Aaron and you had stashed them throughout both of your houses in places that both Enid and Eric wouldn’t be able to find. It had sort of become your inside joke, but you were pretty sure Enid knew about your hiding spots.

Cracking the top, you took a long pull. You then offered the bottle to Daryl. He hesitated for a second before shrugging and taking the bottle from you. He took a single sip and then handed it back. Daryl went back to the bike and you hung out for a bit longer.

It took you a bit to get him to start talking, but when he did, he wanted to know about ASZ and if it was what it seemed. You explained that it was safe and as organized as it could be, but you made sure to tell him not to drop his guard. “Nothing lasts forever and nothing is perfect,” you said to him. He said he'd pass along the message to Rick and the others and then you left, leaving him to his bike, figuring you had bothered him enough.

———

The next time you got Tara alone, she was sitting on the steps of Rick’s house. You were coming back from the armory when you noticed her. Her focus was on her feet as she played with a stray piece of grass. She looked up when your boots entered her line of sight.

“Someone is thinking hard,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Not really,” she said, smiling at you.

“Want some company?” You asked and she slid over, offering you space next to her. “But really, what is going on in that head of yours?”

“Glenn got into with Aidan today,” she said and you nodded. You had heard the commotion earlier, but you figured you should stay out of it and went to help Jessie fix lunch for Sam. You weren’t really surprised though, Aidan was a hothead.

“What was the fight about?” You asked.

“Aidan is an idiot and Glenn called him out on it,” she said, looking towards the setting sun.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Let me guess, Aidan and Nicholas were playin’ with Walkers again.” Tara smiled at your use of the word “Walker” and then nodded.

“So, that wasn’t the first time?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, “Found those two idiots doing it a few months ago. Playing with it like it was some kind of animal. I shot it in the head before they could screw with it any further.” Your firsts curled in your lap as you remembered. “They’re not just some thing, you know? They used to be people and the best mercy we can give them is to put them down.”

“Your dad?” Tara asked, guessing where you head is at.

“He was a cop, you know? A detective.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Tara whispered. “Rick was a cop too.” That made you laugh.

“I can see that,” you said, playing with your fingers. “I’m not delusional,” you told her, looking into her dark eyes, near pleading.

“I know,” she said.

“I know he’s probably dead, but I just want to find him if I can. I owe him that much. I just want you to know that I’m not holding out hope that he’s still alive out there.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Tara asked. You gave her a small smile and reached over and squeezed her arm.

“No, I guess not,” you whispered.

“Well, next time you go out to look for him, come knock on my door,” Tara said, placing her hand over yours.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“I lost my dad too,” Tara explained, “and my sister and my niece. I know what it’s like to lose people, but I know what happened to them. You don’t know and you deserve answers.”

“Thank you, Tara,” you said and you couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your chest as she smiled at you. Her dark hair blew in the slight breeze and with the sun slowly setting over the trees, she looked incredible. At that moment there was really only one thing you wanted to do, but of course, the universe had other plans.

Enid came jogging down the street and the look on her face was enough for you to pull your hand away from Tara. “En?” You called. She looked at you and the stress on her face had you turning to Tara.

“Go,” she simply said with a wink. You placed your hand on her shoulder quickly before crossing the street to Enid. You approached her and it looked as if she wanted to either punch something or lay in bed for a week.

“Let me guess,” you said, “Ron?” Enid just nodded and you took her by the arm and led her inside, ready to listen to her teenage drama and if needed, tear a strip off a teenage boy.

———

It was a couple of weeks before you took Tara up on her offer to accompany you outside the walls.

Enid was going with you this time as well. She had been trying to convince you to take her on your searches for months now. It was only after she made her case that she would just follow you anyways that you decided to let her tag along. When you two went to meet Tara, she wasn’t alone at the gate. Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne were all geared up as well.

“Are we havin’ a party?” you asked, approaching Tara. She smiled sheepishly.

“They wanted to help and I figured more sets of eyes are better than just three,” Tara said. “You don’t mind, do you?” Tara was looking at you with worry, afraid she had overstepped, but you were touched by the sentiment. Leaning forward, you kissed her on the cheek quickly.

“Not at all,” you said with a grin and moved past her to go open the gate. Glenn bit his lip to stop himself from laughing at the pure shock that had taken over Tara’s face. As Daryl went to get on his bike, the rest of you headed for one of the larger cars. You were going out a bit further this time. Closer to where your father had first disappeared.

You had been staying closer to ASZ in your search. If something had happened to him, you figured it was on the way back home and that you’d come across him, but so far there hadn’t been a sighting. “There’s a shopping complex about an hour North,” you said to Daryl who was going to lead on his bike. “It’s a straight shot up the freeway and turn off on exit 7B. The sign should still be there.”

“Alright, just hit the horn if ya need somethin’,” Daryl said as he straddled the motorcycle. He offered his fist and you tapped yours to it.

“Let’s get going before Spencer decides to show up,” you said, ushering everyone into the car. Daryl revved his bike and rolled out of Alexandria. You started the engine and the rest of you followed, waving to Eugene who was waiting to shut the gate behind you.

The ride was silent at first. Enid sat next to you in the passenger seat, reading one of her comics. Tara sat in the back between Glenn and Michonne, kicking her feet up on the center console. It was like a really weird scene out of a road trip movie. After a few more miles, Glenn started to ask questions.

“So what is up with that Spencer guy?” he asked, leaning forward.

“He’s annoying,” Enid commented.

“True,” you said, agreeing. “I don’t know, Glenn, he’s just the kind of guy that is used to getting everything? I guess the end of the world just made that impossible. Typical trust fund boy unable to be better than everyone else.”

“If he’s anything like his brother then he’s not going to last long,” Glenn said.

“At least Aidan is man enough to leave Alexandria. Spencer rarely leaves and when he does, I don’t think he’s ever fired his weapon, let alone killed Walkers,” you explained.

“He afraid?” Michonne asked.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “Though, to be honest, I don’t know him all that well.”

“(Y/N) mostly avoids him,” added Enid. You nodded in agreement.

“Also true.”

“And Deanna has been in charge the whole time?” Tara asked.

“Yeah as far as I know,” you nodded to her in the rearview mirror. “I think people just like to feel some sense of normalcy, you know?”

“Nothin’ normal about the world now,” Tara said.

“Don’t I know it,” you said, bumping her foot with your elbow playfully.

“Where were you before Alexandria?” Glenn asked.

“Here and there,” you said, “We moved around a lot. Never trusted people and it was always our luck that Walkers felt the need to herd up near us. I think the longest place we stayed in was an old movie theater just outside of Augusta. We were with a small group of people for a bit before we had to move on.” You could remember the look on your dad’s face when you had found that particular safe haven. He had thought it was a sign because of all the times you two had enjoyed going to the movies together. It was one of the last places you felt safe before Alexandria.

“Didn’t you sleep in the Aquarium?” Enid asked and you started laughing.

“That I did, En,” you said, remembering that particular night. “Word of advice my new friends, when the world goes to shit nobody is there to feed the animals and the tanks smell worse than an entire herd of Walkers.” Glenn howled in laughter at that while Michonne looked a little sick.

The rest of the ride to the shopping center was surprisingly pleasant. Even Enid was joining in on the random chatter that was going on in the car. As you drove, you kept your eye on Daryl ahead of you, easily maneuvering the broken up roads. You couldn’t believe that a bunch of strangers were willing to help you look for your father. It had been months of searching and you weren’t even sure if he was out there walking around. He could have easily fallen victim to the Walkers themselves. The thought that you were only going to find pieces of him made you feel sick.

Gripping the wheel tighter, you focused on the tail light of the motorcycle and just kept going.

------

Arriving at the shopping mall, Daryl suggested you all stay together.

Considering you didn’t want to be alone in the first place, you easily agreed. Walking through the many stores, you all took out Walkers that stumbled towards you. It was becoming routine to kill the monsters and it was as if your group was running on autopilot. Daryl always kept his bow loaded and Michonne kept her hand on her sword at all times.

You made sure to keep Enid close to you and if it bothered her, she didn’t say anything. If anything were to happen to her, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. She was the only family you had right now and you were determined to keep her alive at any cost.

About halfway through the mall, you were getting more frustrated. Blood was splashed over everything and you knew that something horrible had happened in the mall at the beginning of the Turn. You could easily imagine the screams and all of the people running as Walkers converged on the building. It must have been something akin to a horror film, you figured.

Leaning against the railing of the second floor, you looked down towards an old sporting goods shop. With the smashed windows and blood trails, you knew it was probably one of the first places hit. Hell, even you and your dad had raided multiple shops on your way through Georgia. That thought alone made you straighten up.

Pulling your gun from your holster, you headed for the escalator. “(Y/N)?” Enid called, but you ignored her, nearly jogging towards the metal staircase. You could hear the others following you, but you kept moving. Slipping over fresh blood and the occasional body part lodged in the mechanisms, you flew down the escalator.

Approaching the sporting goods shop, you froze, staring at the entrance. Someone had barricaded the main doors with displays and random pieces of furniture. The way the chairs were stacked and how the tables were resting so the legs were faced outwards told you everything.

Your dad had been the one to set this up.

Emotions overtook you as you rushed forward, pulling at the barricade, your hands manic, and your breathing hard. More sets of hands joined you in dismantling the barrier. You kicked out at the different supports and finally made a hole big enough to fit through. You wasted no time in squeezing through and raising your weapon. Enid followed you with the others right behind. Walking through the aisles, you kept your gun handy, ready to fire on anything that came at you.

You could hear Daryl knocking his knife against the wall trying to draw any Walkers out, but all remained silent. That is until you reached the back of the store. It was quiet at first. It almost sounded like it was farther away, but as you moved closer, the groaning noise increased. A part of you wanted to turn and run and not look at whatever was behind the fishing rod display. However, you knew that if you didn’t look, you would never get the sound of the groaning out of your head.

You slowly handed your pistol to Enid and unsheathed your blade. It felt as if your feet were made of lead as you crept towards the noise. Keeping your breathing steady, you stepped around the broken display.

Your heart dropped out of your chest and your knees buckled at the sight. “No…” you gasped as your knees hit the floor. Sitting before you, half chained to multiple chairs with clouded eyes and a snapping jaw was your father. A sob escaped your throat as he struggled against his restraints. Based on how he was chained, you knew he had done it himself. Looking closer you could just make out a deep bite mark on the side of his neck. “Dad…” you whispered, reaching for him.

“Careful, (Y/N),” Glenn whispered behind you. You pulled your hand away and then dug into the pocket of your jacket, producing a detective’s shield on a chain.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” you said, letting the tears flow more. You moved closer to him, keeping an eye on his gnarled fingers that pawed at your clothing. You raised your knife and tried to see any of the colors in his long-dead eyes, but all that stared back at you were two empty white irises. He reached for you again and you shoved him back, trying not to think about his crumbling skin under your hands. “I’m okay, Dad,” you told him. “I have a new family now and remember Enid? She’s my person now, you know? We’re looking out for each other. I promise.” Your tears dripped onto his body as you held him back. “You can go be with Mom now and Tyler, they need you more. I love you so much.”

Lifting the knife above your head, you let yourself look at him once more before plunging it down into his brain. He went limp immediately in your arms. Removing the blade, you then took the shield and looped it around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay,” you whispered and then fell forward, sobbing. Enid was there in a second, wrapping her arms around your back and holding tight. All you could hear was your own crying and Enid’s soothing voice.

You stayed like that for many moments, trying to grasp what was happening. You finally looked up as Daryl came toward you with a tarp in his hands. “We can bring him back,” Daryl said, kneeling down to your level. “Bury him properly.” You nodded, unable to speak. Daryl then gestured to the others and Tara was at your side helping Enid get you to your feet as Glenn, Michonne, and Daryl unchained your father’s body and wrapped him in the makeshift shroud.

You watched as Daryl and Glenn lifted your father’s body from the ground and carried him from the store. Michonne followed, carrying the crossbow and her sword. Enid and Tara never let you go as you followed them. You didn’t even remember getting back to the car. You could hear Daryl starting his bike as the body was loaded into the trunk. You sat between Enid and Tara in the backseat while Glenn drove with Michonne in the passenger seat. Enid held your hand all the way home, but you could feel Tara leaning into you as well. Halfway home, your other hand found hers and she gripped yours tight. You were right, you had found your new family.

-----

When you returned to Alexandria, your mood was soured further as Spencer was the one to open the gate.

“You need to tell people when you leave, (Y/N),” he said as you followed Enid out of the car.

“Back off, Monroe,” Glenn said, pushing past him towards the back of the car. Spencer then noticed how you looked nearly dead on your feet.

“What happened?” he asked, but became completely silent as he watched Daryl and Glenn haul the body from the trunk. “Oh.”

“Where’s Aaron?’ you whispered, keeping your eyes lowered.

“Home, I think,” Spencer said. You nodded and moved past him. When Enid tried to follow you, you put out your hand.

“I just need to see him alone, okay,” you said and she nodded, stepping back. You didn’t say anything further as you headed towards Aaron’s house. On the walk over, you couldn’t shake the images out of your head. Walkers were not a rare thing. You saw them every time you left Alexandria, but you had never seen someone you knew turn. At least not anybody close. The fact that he chained himself up to keep from hurting people hurt even worse. Even in death, your father was trying to be a hero.

Arriving at Aaron’s, you climbed the steps and didn’t bother knocking. You moved through the house, finding him sitting on the couch in the living room. Eric was nowhere to be found. “Hey, you,” Aaron greeted, looking up from his book. He then saw the tears on your face and tossed the book aside. “What happened?”

“He’s gone,” you choked out and then fell into the spot next to him on the couch.

“Oh, honey,” Aaron whispered as you lay down, your head resting in his lap. You cried as he smoothed his hands over your hair.

“We brought him home,” you whispered. Aaron, gripped you tight as he mourned the man as well. He had immediately liked your father and the two of them had instantly fallen into comfortable conversations when Aaron had brought you back all those months ago. “We’re gonna bury him inside the walls.”

“I think that will be nice,” Aaron said. “Maybe we can ask Father Gabriel to say something. You mentioned your dad was really religious, right?” you nodded. “And I can as Rick to help with a small funeral.”

“Rick?” you asked, confused.

“Well, he was a cop so he knows how funerals for law enforcement work,” Aaron explained.

“Dad wasn’t really a detective anymore,” you whispered.

“Still, he deserves to have a funeral. You do so much for this place, (Y/N), let us do this for you. For both of you.” You nodded and then held him closer as the emotional fatigue finally took you over. It wasn’t long before you slipped into the darkness and fell asleep, dreaming of the good days with your dad.

----

It was night by the time you woke up.

Eric had lightly shaken you awake, mentioning Enid had been looking for you. He had kissed your cheek and told you he’d look after Aaron as always and then offered you his condolences. You hugged him and then headed home. After sleeping and your talk with Aaron, you were feeling a bit better, but you knew it was going to take some time. However, you were grateful that you had finally found him and gotten the answers you craved so much.

If there was anything good to come out of all this, it was the knowledge that he was finally at rest and you didn’t need to worry anymore. That thought alone made you take a deep breath and tilt your head to the sky, feeling the cool air. It smelled like it was going to rain soon.

As you approached your home, someone was waiting for you on the porch. More tension exited your body as you saw that it was Tara. “Hi,” she said softly. You joined her on the steps and smiled to yourself as this began to be a regular thing. “How are you doing? Or is that a stupid question?”

“I’m...managing,” you said. “I guess all the emotions took me by surprise. Maybe because I never expected to actually find him.”

“I’m sorry you had to find him like that,” Tara said.

“New normal, right?” you asked, wiping at your tears that never seemed to stop.

“I wish it didn’t have to be,” said Tara. You turned to look at her and in the moonlight, she looked...ethereal. Reaching up, you tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting your fingers linger on her skin.

“Thank you for being with me today. Meant a lot,” you said. Tara reached up and took your hand in hers, folding it between both of hers. She then raised your hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. You sighed at the contact.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered, looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes, and then she seemed timid.

“You are really something else, Tara Chambler,” you said, leaning in towards her. Tara met you halfway and as you pressed your lips to hers, warmth spread from your head to your toes. The kiss was quick, but it felt right. Pulling back you smiled at her softly. Tara wrapped her arm around your shoulder and you fell into her embrace. Tara ran her hand over your arm as she held you.

At that moment as you mourned your father, you found something full of light to hold onto amidst all of the darkness and she was so beautiful.

TAGS: @thanossexual

#tara chambler imagine #tara chambler #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #twd imagines #twd season 5 #reader #reader insert #Daryl Dixon #Michonne #Glenn Rhee #enid twd #Aaron #walkerwords

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tiredb0igivemesugars · 4 years

Text

How did we meet?

Tony Stark x male reader ✨Established relationship✨

note: I haven’t posted anything in 4 weeks and I felt guilty so I wrote this last night. Officially taking criticism.

words: 1.3k

Summary: y/n goes to an event, where a reporter asks when he met Tony for the first time, y/n finds it an interesting question and takes it up with Tony.

“Hey y/n, how did you and Tony meet?” A reporter asked as soon as you stepped out of the car. You never liked Tony’s parties, but you promised that you’d go. The woman’s question made you think. How did you meet Tony? You felt as if you had always just known him, but as your boyfriend, that spot he had only filled publicly for only a few months. But in private, years. Tony had been known as a ladies man so imagine everyone’s surprise when the oh so anticipated new girlfriend was actually a boyfriend. The world seemed to go into a frenzy for a second, but luckily everything calmed down. You promised yourself that you would try to remember the reporter’s question and think about it later on once you were back home.

You walked inside the building where the party was held. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, red carpet covered the floor. Tens, maybe a couple of hundred round tables filled the space, a lot of important people sitting and standing around them. Tony was launching a new something today, thus, the party. You could feel people staring at you, the boyfriend.

Your eyes searched for your boyfriend. Once you realised that you couldn’t find him, you sat down at the table that was reserved to you and the avengers for the evening. You listened as the avengers bickered back and forth, laughing whenever you felt it was appropriate. ”You know, it doesn’t matter that none of you like me. Hitler would’ve loved me,” Steve said after listening to Natalie and Barron make fun of him for god knows how long. You laughed at Steve’s remark. ”Hey y/n you have to be on our side! If you get us mad you’re far more likely to die, Steve, she is just gonna slap you with his frisbee,” Natalie noted. The table laughed again. ”Hey cut him some slack! He looks like he’s going to start crying any minute!” You tried to defend Steve.

All of them quieted down when you noticed that Tony got on stage to present his invention. ”Today I’m here to present you all with something that could quite possibly change the way we see everyday life. This is not a butterknife that moves by itself, y/n made sure of that. I came up with this idea when I was sitting in my marvellous tower one morning..” He went on explaining. The crowd laughed and clapped with Tony. He looked so passionate when he talked, you could see that he believed in himself, for once. Before Tony even had the chance to tell what his invention was, you could still see that everyone was in on it. They all believed in his idea before they even knew completely what it was.

But in your eyes, that was just Tony in general. He talked you in and out of things so easily, it’s not like it bothered you. It was nice that someone ”did the thinking” for you, for once. Once the audience had given Tony a standing ovation, you came back to your senses. You could see Tony walking down from the stage, he was walking from table to table now, well not to every table but to the ones with possible sponsors and such. You allowed yourself to get carried away by listening to the conversation Bruce, who was sitting next to you, was having with someone who sat at a different table. After what seemed like an eternity, you felt a tap on your shoulder. ”How you doing?” Tony said. ”Fine, a bit tired,” you confessed. Tony massaged your shoulders a bit. ”We’re leaving soon anyway, the party portion is starting soon,” Tony said. He pulled an empty chair from another table and sat next to you. Tony had quit drinking a while ago, it wasn’t noticeable usually, except for at events, he always left early. You always left with Tony, no matter if it was early or late, you wanted to go home with him and there wasn’t much that parties could offer you. ”It’s just not my scene, you know.”

”Wanna leave now?” Tony asked. You nodded without a thought. He stood up and grabbed your hand as you followed. The reporters outside still asked questions when you went outside. Did they ever get tired? Happy drove Tony’s car in front of the venue and got out. Happy threw the keys to Tony and walked to his car. So that he could drive behind you. Tony walked around the car to the driver's side and got in, you followed suit.

You drove in silence, at least until you spoke up. ”Do you remember how we met?” You asked. Tony changed his position so he could somewhat face you. ”I mean yeah, it was sometime in spring, dad forced me to come to have lunch with him and his business partner. I came, you were there, in your school uniform. I could tell that you didn’t want to be there. Why?” Tony said. ”I don’t know. A reporter asked,” you explained. ”I thought that you were very handsome. I wanted to impress you since you were so cool and all,” you chuckled. ”It seems like that was such a long time ago, but it has only been what? 15 years?” Tony said. ”I’d correct you but I’m not very good at math,” you admitted. Tony let out a little laugh. It was silent for the rest of the ride.

”When I see vintage cars or try to remember my 20th birthday I’ll remember you,” you suddenly blurted out when you got into the elevator with Tony. He turned to look at you. ”I’ll remember how you couldn’t decide whether to look at my lips or my eyes when I talked,” you continued as you reached to wrap your arms around Tony’s neck. His hands easily found their way to your waist. ”I’ll remember how you never complained about me resting my head on your shoulders when I slept. You’ve never woken me up either, even if you had a meeting to get to. It always made me feel so guilty when you missed something important like that because of me.” ”What do you expect me to do? You’re cute when you sleep,” Tony tried to defend himself. You smiled. ”I wasn’t finished,” you said with a borderline mischievous smile. ”Talk all you want, I’m all ears,” Tony said as he lovingly gazed you. ”I remember how you said things that were supposed to be just ordinary sayings, but instead they got stuck inside my heart. And now, for the rest of my life, I’ll hear those words with your voice saying them. And perhaps the most important part, for the first time in over 10 years I felt safe in the arms of someone, and I knew that you wouldn’t ever hurt me,” you confessed. Your past was something that wasn’t talked about, you liked it that way, even Tony didn’t know all of it, but he knew how serious the last part was. He gently kissed your lips as his hands found their place on the sides of your face. The elevator dinged, signalling that you had reached your floor. ”I’m tired,” you said and began leading Tony to your bedroom. You both took your suits off and got ready for bed in comfortable silence. ”I still don’t know all the things that happened to you, I don’t need to know all of it, unless you want that, but I want you to know that it means the world to me that you feel that way about me,” Tony said as you made your way under the covers. You smiled at your boyfriend. He could be a pain in the ass but most of the time he was really sweet and understanding. You pecked your boyfriend's lips, "I love you," you said. "I love you too," Tony said as he kissed you back.

#marvel #imagine #oneshot #tony stark #x reader #x male reader #male x male #tony stark x reader #tony stark x male!reader

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Final)

See end of chapter for notes AND a post credits scene! (or the book version of a post credit scene? Anyway, stay tuned)

COMPLETED MASTERLIST HERE

*************

One Year Later

“All I’m saying is, I feel like we shouldn’t have to cross international boundaries to see our friend.” Gwen took a hand off the wheel and felt around the backseat for the Costco-sized container of chocolate covered raisins Harry was trying to hoard. “Isn’t there big trees on this side of the border? Pete and Wade couldn’t have settled down under the old Stars and Stripes? I shouldn’t have to renew my passport for this!”

“Stop trying to steal my food and watch the road.” Harry slapped the other Alpha’s hand away. “There’s moose up here and I don’t really want to meet one face to face.”

“There’s no moose in Canada.” Johnny snorted. “That’s only an Alaskan thing.”

Silence in the car as Mary Jane and the two other Alphas swiveled to stare at Johnny in disbelief, and then MJ cleared her throat and grabbed the wheel when Gwen swerved. “Anyway, I think it’s sweet that Peter is literally willing to move countries to be with his mate. And as far as crossing international borders? Gwen we’re only fifteen minutes into Canada, I could just chuck you back over to the States if you are really so bothered by it.”

“Pete says the only reason they chose Canada is cos all the land on our side is protected.” Harry chimed in. “Guess the government doesn’t really like people building cabins on national forest land and calling it theirs.”

“Yeah, well it cost me five hundred bucks for my passport so Peter better make this a hell of a visit.” The female Alpha finally snagged the raisins and crammed a triumphant handful into her mouth. “I expect room and board, three square meals a day and a spending allowance.”

“You realize they live an entire hour from the nearest town, and the nearest town has one grocery store and one restaurant, right? What are you planning on buying with your spending allowance?” The Omega grabbed the wheel again and cried, “Gwen! Eyes in the road! You are a terrible driver!”

“Complain all you want, but since Harry didn’t want to bring his fancy new car up to the boonies of Canada, it’s either my adventurous driving or twelve hours in a bus.” Gwen retorted. “Quit bitchin’ and use the seat belt, that’s what it's for. Johnny, who are you texting? Do you even get service up here?”

“Texting Pete to let him know if we don’t make it up for dinner it’s cos Gwen launched us off a corner and into Canadian Lake Eerie.”

“Really?” Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Not gonna say we hit a reindeer or something?”

“Very funny.” Johnny scowled at them. “Reindeer aren’t real, s’not like we’re gonna run into Rudolph up here.”

“...he is twenty six years old.” Mary Jane whispered and Gwen snorted a laugh. “Twenty six! It’s a good thing he’s hot and treats me right during heat cos wow. Just wow.”

***************

“Alpha my Alpha?” Peter hurried out of the cabin in search of his mate, reading through a text from Johnny with one hand and trying-- and failing-- to button one of Wade’s flannels over his shoulders. “Hey, Johnny says they’re about twenty minutes out from the cabin. Oh, he also says that Gwen is a terrible driver and uh--” the Omega grinned. “--he wants to know if reindeer are a real thing because MJ won’t quit laughing at him about it.”

“I missed most of that.” Wade set a bale of hay down in the corral and clicked his tongue at the horses before turning back to his mate and letting his eyes slide red as he looked the Omega over. “What are you wearing, Pete? You know m’not gonna let you wear that around your friends. Go change.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.” the Omega countered primly, nose in the air and fully aware of why his Alpha had something to say about his clothing choices. “I am completely covered and not showing more than a few inches of skin at my neck.”

“Pete.”

“You know, you’re lucky I think your old fashioned ‘no one sees my mate but me’ mentality is cute.” Peter bit his lip to hide a smile when the Alpha huffed at him. “I don’t want anyone seeing me but you, either. But there’s no reason for me to change clothes right now. I’m covered and I’m comfortable and I’m--EEK!”

He yelped when the Alpha yanked him up close and they were suddenly nose to nose, red eyes to dark brown that flickered playfully gold. “Wade! Let go!”

“I’ll let go when you promise to change into something that isn’t one of my shirts half open over somethin’ so pretty.” Wade undid one of the buttons so he could see the lacy, croppy top camisole his mate had been wearing all morning. “You tryna make me crazy, mate? Really want your friends to show up and see you stuck on me cos I can’t keep my hands off you lookin’ like this?”

“Oh, are you gonna knot me up in fifteen minutes?” Peter challenged. “Do you think I’m that easy, Alpha?”

His Alpha growled, low and pointed and hungry and Peter giggled in delight, scrunching his nose and budging close to rub against his mate teasingly. “Tempting, my love. And I suppose I am that easy for you. But what if I wear the shirt buttoned all the way up so no one sees the lace?”

“And pants. You have to wear pants.” Wade ordered and the Omega conceded, “And pants. Won’t run around in just your shirt and no pants. I promise.”

“Thank you.” In the year since officially mating, Wade had gotten more outwardly possessive of the little Omega, making sure Peter wore his ring all the time, making sure shirts were always cut low enough to show off the silvered mating bond, insisting that Peter wore his clothing so the Omega would scent like lavender and honeysuckle and him.

Sometimes Wade apologized for his behavior, like when they’d gone to the store and another Alpha had looked Peter over and Wade snarled loud enough to make the cashier scream. Other times like now, he didn’t apologize at all, only wove his fingers into Peter’s hair and directed the Omega close for a tender, claiming kiss that didn’t let up until his mate was clinging to him and purring softly against his lips.

“You’re mine, sweetheart.” he rumbled and Peter automatically turned his head so show off his silver mark. “All mine. Every inch of you.”

“Every inch of me.” Peter promised. “Yours. Always.” and then with a hesitant smile. “But um-- what if you had to share some of me with someone else? Maybe-- maybe most of me? How do you feel about that?”

And before his mate could snarl at even the thought of sharing, the Omega rushed to finish. “It would be someone tiny! And you know… diaper wearing?”

“Diaper wearing.” Wade repeated. confusion written across his face. “What does that mean, Pete? What are you talking about?”

“It means that uh-- well it means this.” Peter reached for his Alpha’s hand and pressed it on to his own stomach, eyebrows raised and expression uncertain as he waited for Wade to figure it out. “Get it?”

It took the Alpha another moment to put two and two together, the notion of this sort of thing so foreign and for so long an impossibility that Wade cycled through at least four different possible scenarios for why he was trying to feel the Omega’s stomach. Did Peter have a tummy ache? Was he craving something odd and didn’t want to say it out loud? What did weird cravings have to do with diapers? Was he putting on more weight? Cos that would be good, Peter had been too skinny for too long and Wade loved when his mate was soft all over.

But none of those things would make his little mate nervous, none of those things even mattered in the slightest so why...

“Omega.” the truth burned into the Alpha’s mind, his scent twisting first in disbelief and then in hope, eyes flickering red and hazel as his heart beat an out of control pattern. “Peter. Are you sure? Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Peter admitted, both relieved and thrilled when his mate hit the ground on his knees and gathered him up close, the Alpha practically purring as he nuzzled into his mate’s stomach. “It’s still too soon to tell and really, it’s just a feeling I’ve had since my last heat finished up. Too soon to tell, it might not be anything.”

“But you think it is something.” Wade muffled the words against Peter’s navel. “Right?”

“You said you and Vanessa never could have kids.” The Omega tracked gentle fingers over his mate’s scalp, down the Alpha’s neck to the bonding mark. “But time travel changed your biology and your mutation and now you get to grow old with me, so I thought maybe-- maybe everything else changed too? Maybe? And lately I’ve been feeling different so I thought maybe--”

“This is something you want?” Wade interrupted anxiously. “Is it? Cos in Haven you said you hadn’t ever thought about having a family.”

“I hadn’t ever thought about having a mate either, but here we are.” Peter soothed his Alpha with a quiet trill. “And I’m happy, my mate. So if this feeling ends up being something real, then I’ll be happy about that too.”

Wade looked up, wide eyed and hopeful. “Yeah?”

“I also think if this ends up being something real then you’ll have to start whittling toys again.” the Omega’s lavender scent burst with happiness when Wade grinned in excitement. “We’ll need lots of toys, don’t you think?”

“Hundreds.” the Alpha answered promptly and Peter laughed at him. “We’ll need hundreds of toys. And a crib. And a bed for when they get bigger. And another room for the cabin and--”

“Easy does it, my love.” Peter shivered when the Alpha pushed his shirt up and scraped feather soft fangs in a possessive kiss at his tummy. “We don’t even know for sure yet. This might be nothing at all.”

“How long until you’ll know?” Wade demanded and Peter did some mental math before answering, “Another couple weeks? A month at the most, I think.”

“It will take me that long to pick out the wood to use for the crib.” Wade decided, then stood and gathered his Omega into a long kiss. “Thank you, my mate.”

“For what?” Peter tipped his head so his Alpha would mouth over his bonding mark. “What did I do besides get ridiculously needy during my heat and not let you outta me until you were ready to beg for mercy?”

“My god you’re romantic.” the Alpha said dryly. “When you talk like that it warms my heart, Pete. Glad you see our heats together in such beautiful terms.”

“I am romantic!” Peter laughed through another kiss and asked again, “Why are you saying thank you, though? You came a hundred and fifty years into the future to find me. You stayed with me in the city while I adjusted all over again. We decided to move and you built me a cabin and all the furniture inside then let me buy whatever else I wanted to sort it out. We have polka dot plates, Wade. You let me buy polka dot plates and let me name both our horses and each of the the chickens and then you let me get a bunny and promised it wouldn’t end up as Stew.”

The Alpha grinned and Peter stood on his toes to whisper, “But beyond all that, you showed me what true love and soulmates were. Why are you saying thank you to me?”

“Cos you’re my whole world, Pete.” Wade answered simply, rubbing slow circles over his mate’s stomach. “My entire world and then some. Whether this is a feelin’ or not, whether I need to start building a crib or not. Thank you.”

“I’ll accept your thanks on one condition.” Peter said seriously, and started to undo the buttons at his shirt again, baring the lacy camisole and a whole lot of skin. “Is your offer for fifteen minutes still good or….”

“Nope, cut that shit out!” Clint landed with a thump in the yard, wings flared out wide to counter balance the weight of his Omega in his arms, and thoroughly derailing their moment. “You don’t invite us for food and then start humping right here in the yard. That is not the neighborly thing to do!”

“I thought the whole point of us bein’ by the river was that we didn’t have neighbors.” Wade retorted, pushing Peter slightly behind him so the other mated pair wouldn’t see him half dressed. “Maybe you show up on time and you won’t see anything you aren’t meant to.”

“Maybe you don’t try and strip your mate down right here in the wide open where animals and God and the entire world can see. Ol’ Eagle Eyes here spotted you from a mile up.” Logan watched in open adoration as his Alpha’s wings folded away then turned to grin at Wade. “How’r’ya neighbor?”

“Would’ve been better in about fifteen minutes.” Peter grumbled and Wade chuckled at his mate, wrapped an arm around the Omega’s waist and hauled him in close. “Oh my Alpha says I should warn you guys about my friend, Mary Jane? I mean, I should warn you about all my friends because they are all terrible but MJ will definitely stare and probably get all horned up for Clint’s tattoos and Logan you-- you scent wild and she barely keeps it together around Wade. honestly good luck with that one, okay? You’ll have to pry her off with a stick.”

“I hate teenagers.” Logan grumbled, and Peter corrected, “Oh no, they’re all my age, later twenties. Just um-- just terrible. We are all terrible. Be warned.”

“Oh great, sounds like a real fun afternoon.” Clint vaulted the corral fence to pet at the horses, crooning softly to the beasts before asking, “Wade, you got something alcoholic in there? Strong enough to survive a day with a bunch of twenty somethings?”

“I’ve got moonshine and tequila.” Wade confirmed, motioning the other Alpha into the cabin with him. “Come on. My mate, do you want anything?”

“Just some water, Alpha.” Peter called and Wade’s smile was private and hopeful and so so sweet it almost sent the Omega to his knees. “Th-thank you.”

He turned back to Logan and immediately backed up a step when he saw the big Omega advancing on him. “Logan? What are you doing? Hey--!” Peter yelped when Logan crowded right into his space and stuck his nose under his jaw. “Logan! Stop!”

“You told your mate about the baby yet?” Logan pulled away, eyes flashing in a curious mix of anticipation and awe. “Is that why you asked for water instead of liquor?”

“We um--we don’t know anything for sure yet. Wade hasn’t noticed a change in my scent yet and it’s too soon to tell with a test.” Peter rubbed at his neck awkwardly. “And by the way? The whole half animal hardcore scenting thing isn’t any less weird even though we’ve been neighbors for a while now. Don’t do that any more.”

And then quieter, “Did you scent anything for sure?”

“Might just be leftover heat hormones.” Logan waved the question off. “But it sure seems like more t’me. How did the big guy take it? Did he faint? Do you have video of it I can watch on repeat?”

“I just said we don’t know for sure!” Peter tried not to laugh at the mental picture of his stalwart mate fainting away about a baby. “And we aren’t saying anything to anyone else, so please? Not in front of my friends? You can tell your Alpha but--”

“Clint scented it on you the minute we landed.” Logan pulled out one of those ever present cigars and lit it up. “Guarantee he’s buggin’ your mate about it right now. Congratulations.”

“Wade’s biology and mutation means it might not even be an option.” the Omega pointed out softly. “So we can’t get our hopes up yet.”

“Time travel, kid.” Logan scoffed. “You came to the past, Wade came to the future, you’re hanging out with an Omega who will literally live forever and an Alpha with magic sparkly wings. You’re okay with all that, but growing some teeny squishy baby with hopefully your looks is too far fetched? Give me a break.”

The big Omega puffed at his cigar few times. “Names picked out yet?”

“My Grannie’s name was Eleanor so I like Ellie for a girl, maybe Mikel for a boy.” Peter replief absentmindedly, flushing when Logan grinned knowingly. “Okay maybe my hopes are up a little bit. But please don’t say anything.”

“Won’t say nothin’.” Logan agreed, then inclined his head down the road towards a cloud of dust. “Those your friends?”

“Umm---” Peter listened close for Gwen’s tell tale brand of terrible music taste and lit up with a grin. “Yeah! That’s them!”

The car came bouncing and rattling over up the cinder drive, sliding to a stop and opening up to spill four twenty-somethings out into the yard. Harry and Johnny will still arguing about reindeer and apparently whether or not Santa had eight or nine, Gwen was shouting about how she was staying for an entire week because of the six hour drive and also Peter owed her gas money and a refund on her sanity after listening to Johnny sing all day. Mary Jane was as collected and beautiful as always but she still squealed when she saw Peter and hugged him tight enough to choke before the Alphas jostled her away and talked over each other in an attempt to hug on Peter and catch him up on the last several weeks worth of gossip.

“Holy shit.” Clint paused in the kitchen window to watch the chaos, moonshine halfway to his mouth. “They’re like a pack of wild animals! Are they always like this?”

“Never fails.” Wade grimaced. “If I didn’t love Pete so much there’s no way I’d tolerate his friends. But they adore him somethin’ fierce so it’s alright. Can’t complain about my mate bein’ surrounded by people that would do anything for him.”

“I guess.” the Alpha made a face over the drink. “By the way, what the hell is this, sweet apple flavored? Do you have real alcohol?”

“First time I gave my mate real moonshine he about died.” Wade said dryly. “Gotta ply him with the fruity stuff or he won’t drink with me. Damn shame for an Alpha to have a mate who won’t get all tipsy and sweet with him, right?”

“Damn shame.” Clint repeated, and then softer. “Congratulations on the little one, by the way. Not telling anyone yet?”

“Don’t know if it’s anything real.” Wade tried not to smile quite so goofy. “Not gettin’ my hopes up, not with my biology and all. Never thought I could have kids but since the jump forward changed my mutation, guess there’s a chance. We won’t know for a while.”

“Not getting your hopes up?”

“Nah.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint swirled the apple liquor in his glass and nodded. “Got names picked out?”

“Pete’s granny was named Eleanor and that’s a good old fashioned name.” Wade said absentmindedly, watching his mate get all but tackled by an over enthusiastic Gwen. “We could call her Ellie.”

“Oh yeah, you’re not getting your hopes up at all.” Clint drained the rest of his drink and set the glass in the sink. “Come on, let’s go meet the friends. Get it over with.”

“Wade!” Mary Jane was the first to see Wade and she hurried towards the Alpha to give him a big hug, laughing in delight when Wade promptly picked her up and swung her around in a circle. “How are you! It’s so pretty up here! I love it!”

“Just sayin’ bud, you’re already ridiculously Alpha, you don’t gotta rub it in our faces by picking up our Omegas just to show off.” Gwen was next, socking the other Alpha in the shoulder before grabbing Wade in a hug too. “Also, you owe me gas money and like, several hours of my life back for that drive. I’m staying for a week just to make up for it.”

“Wonderful.” Wade grunted, and Gwen snarled playfully at him before getting out of the way. “Harry, Johnny.” Wade shook each of their hands. “How was the drive?”

“Way longer than we thought it would be, so we are also staying for a week.” Johnny informed him. “And Pete never texted me back about reindeer so it that like a real thing? Do you have those here? Like, you raise ponies and also reindeer?”

“Ponies? What--?”

“Ignore him, he’s had about six energy drinks and an entire pound of beef jerky.” Harry patted Wade on the shoulder and grinned. “It’s real nice up here, glad you guys finally let us come up. Pete says he refused to have anyone over until it was all the way done. Sure took you long enough.”

“Pete’s pickier than you’d think when it comes to his dream cabin.” The Alpha replied and Peter retorted, “I wouldn't be picky if you’d just make it perfect!” and the group erupted into laughter and various jeers and vaguely worded jabs at the Alphas lack of skill and more pointed hints at Peter just being high maintenance.

The noise carried into the surrounding woods, laughter and chatter and happiness that filled the air with the combined scents of family and contentment and smiles. It was like warm wind, gentle and calming as it wove through the trees and branches. soothing as it stirred the leaves along well used game trails, hopeful as it brushed over the mutant standing at a distance and watching the party unfold.

These days the organic tech had eaten into most of Cable’s body, spreading across his chest and over his face, hooking into his scalp and nearly covering his one good eye. The repeated trips to and from Haven to see his family and to and from this timeline to keep an eye on both Wade and Peter had all but destroyed the Alpha by now, taxing his mutation and sanity to the breaking point.

Most days it was all Cable could do to fight the voice of the tech inside his head as it tried to take over his consciousness and others days he wondered if it was worth fighting at all.

Eventually Cable would be nothing more than a robot, nothing more than a fragment of himself trapped and lost behind programming and cold steel, but today he was still human enough to smile the slightest bit when the noise of happy conversation reached his ears.

He’d done the right thing bringing Wade forward through the centuries to meet his mate. It had been the right decision to reunite the pair, to break the rules of time travel for others like he broke them so often for himself.

The right decision, and the sound of the Omega laughing at his mate in pure delight proved it.

The right decision, and Cable allowed himself another tiny smile before he turned the numbers on his device back to a familiar year and a familiar place--

--and disappeared in a flash of light.

*************

Haven

1874

“Cable.” Bruce didn’t look up when the mutant shimmered into place next to him, decades of knowing Cable and decades of forcing himself to calm making it so he didn't even jump. “Welcome back.”

“How are they?” Cable stripped out of his gear and set it to the side before settling on to the picnic next to the doctor. “How’s my family?”

“Hope doesn’t have a single ounce of fear in her.” Bruce motioned down the hill to where the little girl was chattering excitedly about butterflies, fingers twined with Eddie’s as she pulled them along the creek side. “When you told Eddie to be friends with her, they were terrified she would scream but children are so pure, she has no clue Eddie is someone the adults fear. She has been holding their hand for at least a solid hour and Eddie has no intention of letting go anytime soon. Almost a week now they’ve spent every day together and I’ve never seen Eddie smile so much.”

“That’s good.” Cable’s throat closed up as he watched his daughter play with the volatile mutant, pointing at different bugs and chasing down a grasshopper while Eddie followed behind with measured steps and a careful hold lest the little girl trip or skin her knee. Their eyes flickered fond opaline and pointed crowded sharp every time they smiled down at her, but there was no danger in the air, nothing uncertain or scary and Cable relaxed further. “Eddie deserves kindness.”

“So do you.” Bruce said mildly. “Have you thought about talking to Aliya? To Hope? If they can be comfortable with Eddie, they will be comfortable with you as well.”

“I wouldn’t disrupt their happiness by trying to--”

“Yoo-hoo!” Aliya came over the rise of the hill, stunning in her simple dress, hair long down her back and a basket of flowers and food. “Doctor Banner! Hope told me she was playing with Eddie again today so I thought I’d bring a picnic!”

“Oh.” Cable wanted to growl, he wanted to hide, he wanted to break down and cry as Aliya came close enough for him to breathe in her sunflower and rosewood scent. “Bruce, I should go, I should--”

“Oh hello! It’s Nathan, isn’t it?” Aliya smiled at him and Cable’s heart almost broke. “Nathan Summers? Bruce has talked about you but I’ve never had the chance to say hello. How are you?”

“I’m-- I’m--”

“Stay and have lunch with us, I always bring way too much!” Aliya was pure sunshine when she laughed, sunshine and summer wind and Cable thought he’d shatter beneath the easy acceptance in her beautiful eyes. “Please stay, do you like sweet corn? It’s fresh from our garden. What about wine, will you have some?”

“...I’d love some.” Cable said hoarsely. “And sweet corn is my-- my favorite.”

“I knew it.” Aliya patted at Bruce’s knee as she passed, patted Cable’s shoulder for balance as she sat next to them. “I saw you and thought to myself, ‘that is a man who likes sweet corn.’ I make corn fritters you will absolutely die for, you’ll have to join us for dinner too? Eddie and Bruce are over at least once a week, Hope is thoroughly smitten with them but there is always room for one more at our table!”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Cable swallowed hard. “I’d--- I’d appreciate that.”

“Call me Aliya.” the Omega prompted, sending him a wink that made Cable’s heart twist in his chest. “After all, we’re friends now aren’t we? Call me Aliya.”

Cable didn’t manage to say a whole lot over the course of the picnic, but Aliya chatted enough for the two of them and when Hope came running up to show off the butterfly Eddie held so carefully in their clawed hands, the little girl immediately decided Cable needed to catch butterflies too. it took nothing more than an endearing smile and flutter of long lashes and the child had Cable caught around her little finger and fully ready to do her bidding.

“I love butterflies.” She skipped along at Cable’s side as she towed him back down to the creek. “Do you know that? I also love flowers. And I love blackberries even though Ma says I’ll explode if I eat too many and--”

“You like blackberry tarts, sweetheart?” Cable asked hoarsely, thinking of his own Hope and the way she’d cheered every time he brought her home something sweet. “With sugar crystals and--”

“-- and a smear of frosting!” Hope finished excitedly. “Do you have any? You would be my favorite if you had some!”

“I-- I’ll find some.” Cable whispered, blinking back tears as Hope grabbed tighter at his hand and kept right on talking. “Oh hell, I’ll sure find some.”

Down in the town square in the middle of Haven, a little old man with wild suspenders and patched trousers glanced up into the hills and smiled when his ancient eyes caught sight of the mutant at long last reunited with his family.

No matter time nor distance, loved ones always found their way together again and in this particular universe, even bending the rules of time travel and the fabric of reality could end in a happily ever after. The mutant wouldn’t lose his loved ones like he’d lost them fifty nine times before and the Alpha that had gone forward so far into another century would get to grow old with his mate.

Sometime in the future Mr. Lee would be a taxi driver, a pawnbroker, maybe even a tailor creating suits for all sorts of famous people but for now the old Alpha pushed his glasses up his nose and went on his way with an arm full of trinkets to stock his shop.

There wasn’t really a word that could describe the mysteries of the universe and the powers that existed, the way timelines crashed and folded into each other to bring soulmates back around again and again, but Mr Lee was pretty sure these sort of things would always work out.

After all, he’d done a pretty good job with all the Happily Ever Afters so far.

He’d do a pretty good job with the rest of them, too.

*******************

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Authors Notes: So some of you know that I’ve had this story planned for quite literally a year and a half and I cannot tell express how humbled I was when not one or two but FOUR different readers hit me up and told me they’d be happy to commission the fic if I’d just take the time to finally write it. They didn’t set any boundaries for me, their only input was encouragement and fangirling and I will love them forever for helping make this monster idea a real story.

I have at least five different bonus chapters planned ranging from more about Eddie and Bruce to more about Cable and some about Stucky and of course, slice of life pieces for our Spideypool so while this is the end of the original fic, I promise it’s not the last time we’ll visit the verse.

This is now officially my longest fic, longer even than Pirate’s Heart, but I’ve got bonus chapters planned for that verse too, so I’m sure the stats will flip again!

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did, and to those of you who stuck by me for almost five months worth of updates and chapters-- cheers to you. I wouldn’t write without dedicated readers who support me!

Keep Scrolling for a Post Credits Scene!

And if you’d like to keep tabs on my writing, ask to be on my PERMA-TAG LIST!

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@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @ricecakeandhoney @ardatlily @fawnandgays @bluedreamdino @bibbarnes @blackstar1602 @hi-inevitable-im-deadpool @scientifically-lesbian-jesus @the-pagely-gun-slinger @oshuncheyenne @the-dragonwolf-den @pumpkin-spidey @sozvuchiy @cappunico @tired-dragons01 @chiby-chan @ahumoki0 @kanizsacollage @tulipsnbigcats @hiddenaurora @notchronicle24 @marvels-gurl @iridescent-idiot @badndbourgeoisie @eversomniator @local1dreamer @loveisblindwade @ssssssssssssssssssssslytherin @theunwantedomega @littlepolypan @marvel-is-literally-life-okay @lovethewitchofendor

********************

Present Day

“Are you nervous?” Pepper nuzzled a kiss onto Tony’s cheek as he tapped away at the computer in front of the temperature controlled chamber installed at the bottom of the Tower. “This is a big deal.”

“You think so?” the sassy Omega asked absentmindedly. “Finding the body of a near century old super soldier that is most definitely the result of some pretty terrible experimentation and attempting to bring him out of hibernation without accidentally killing him? I mean yeah, I’d think that’s a big deal.”

“Brat.” Pepper huffed and kissed him one more time. “Are you sure we shouldn’t ask Director Fury for help with this? Your father started SHIELD, Fury has taken it over, we should bring him in on this project. You can’t just wake up a top secret government project and think to keep it quiet.”

“Sure I can.” Tony’s eyes flickered blue as he stretched his power inside the containment chamber to manually adjust the temperature. “And I’m gonna do it right now. Look.”

Inside the chamber, steam hissed as the last of a centuries worth of ice melted away from a still form, clouding the glass and making it hard to see. Tony and Pepper stared wide eyed and white knuckled at the monitors as a broad chest rose and fell with first one breath, and then another, and then a third that came along with clenching fists and cracking knuckles and the wheezy, gaspy sound of an Alpha that had been locked away too long.

“Tony?” Pepper whispered uncertainly when eyes that should be blue opened dark scarlet and furious, when features that should be strong and patriotic twisted into a mask of rage. “Tony honey are you sure this is Captain Rogers?”

“It’s Captain Rogers, alright.” Tony didn’t flinch away when the Alpha stalked towards the observation window and slammed a huge fist onto the glass, but he didn’t resist when his mate scaled up and turned golden eyed, Pepper’s claws and wings making an appearance as she shifted into her dragon and growled protectively over her mate.

“Say Pep.” Tony swallowed when Captain Rogers’s furious gaze locked onto his, when the Alpha curled his teeth back and bared fangs long enough to be horrifying. “All those reports about Captain Rogers. Any word on whether or not he survived the mutant serum as human?”

“You think they turned him into a monster.” Pepper’s voice was low in her mostly shifted form. “You think his body couldn’t handle the change and too long in hibernation brought the mutation out. Any Alpha runs towards feral after too long locked away but this is--”

“I think maybe they gave him mutant serum with a strong animal influence--” Tony backed up a step when Captain Rogers slammed at the glass again and a spiderweb of cracks broke beneath his fist. “--and I think they had no idea what they were doing--” Another slam and another crack. “--and I think--”

“Where is my mate?!” the mutant Alpha roared, and the speakers on the containment chambers crackled and burst beneath the noise. “My mate! Take me to my mate!”

“--I think we should find his mate.” The Omega’s eyes lit blue again and he snapped several pieces of metal over the cracking glass, melding them together and then to the floor so they wouldn’t give. “Pep, did we know Captain Rogers had a mate?”

“There was no mention anywhere in the files about a mate.” the Alpha muttered, and from behind the metal pieces Captain Rogers howled in heartbreak and rage as he tried to beat his way through the chamber. “But we should figure it out soon.”

The blocks Tony put up bent beneath the force of a solid punch, bowed and reshaped as the Captain fought against it. “Yeah, we should figure it out now.”

*****

Across the world in a country no one thought of as important, in a field with no name and no marker on a map, deep beneath the floors of a storage facility that technically didn’t exist and had long been abandoned, an Omega was locked inside a cryogenic chamber, forced into stasis years ago and forgotten until deemed necessary.

For the first time ever, the Omega stirred without being woken, jerked into motion without being activated, snapped open ice blue eyes, clenched his fist and punched right through the chamber to fall out onto the cold floor, gasping for breath and nearly screaming as his entire body lit up in pain and grief and--

“Alpha.” the Omega lifted metal fingers to press against a long faded bonding mark, a growl working from his throat as a single memory came flooding back through the decades of experimentation and brain washing.

“Alpha.” he growled again. “...Steve.”

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