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angelofthenight · 8 months

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Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias (Watchmen): Yandere Alphabet (+ add. h/cs)

(Fem!Reader)

Overall warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Gaslighting, Violence/Murder, Unhealthy relationship, Jealousy/Possessiveness, Social isolation, Manipulation, Obsessiveness, Stalking/Spying, Controlling behavior, Power imbalance, Swearing, Kidnapping, Dub-con

( This was the fastest I’ve ever written a piece, literally in one night so excuse it if it sounds rushed at times, coz I just wanted to get Watchmen out of my system so I could focus on my other fics. Also this is based on a combination of the movie interpretation and comic counterpart of Adrian )

( A few letters in the Alphabet are out of order to get the foundation set )

Love story: How did they meet their darling? How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You were caught in the grasp of a villain on a rooftop after the superheroes Nite Owl and Rorschach beat his barbaric goons to bloody pulps. The costumed lunatic held a knife to your hoarse throat while you sobbed and hyperventilated, warning the two vigilantes that if they came any closer he would slice your neck wide open. Your mind was too fogged with hysterical terror to understand the conversation but the next thing you felt was the villain chucking you over the ledge of the roof as he made a run for it. You just accepted your brutal death, knowing there was no way to get out of this, until your body collided into a pair of strong arms.

Your pink eyes locked with Ozymandias’ soft ones, him holding a calm smile. Your heavy breathing was unstable and tears still cascaded down your cheeks when you abruptly threw your face into the crook of his neck to sob with your arms grasping helplessly around his shoulders. You trembling terribly and despite being a hero for quite awhile now, Adrian had never been this close to a victim before. It was always fleeting moments with saving victims but as you shook and clung to him, he truly did feel like a superhero in that moment.

Even as the cops came to arrest the criminals and as the press interviewed Nite Owl, you still held onto him with your face buried into his shoulder as if you were holding on for your actual life. When he asked if you were okay, you snapped out of it and allowed him to softly plant you onto your feet. You were still visibly horrified and he asked you if you would like him to walk you home since of the late hour. You gradually accepted the offer after your own hesitation and his reassurance that he wouldn’t mind and that he would actually prefer it to ensure your safety and wellbeing.

So he walked you home, talking with you to help you calm down. He didn’t even realize how much he learned about you. He couldn’t sleep that night. The scene of him saving you and you clinging to him replaying over and over and over again.

A few times he had played around your intimate (at least to him) scenario like imagining you refusing to let go of him, you being flustered when he catches you, and a few times he imagined himself locking your lips within his own or you engaging it as a “thank you, you’re my hero”.

Even as days passed he couldn’t stop thinking about you, so much that it started to affect his performance and attention. If you have a song stuck in your head on loop, listening to the song makes it stop. So he told himself he just needed to see you again to be able to go on with his life in peace and without distraction, because that’s what you were becoming: a distraction.

During the talk to calm you down, you told him where you worked. So, out of costume, he went to the coffee cafe you worked full time at. It was easy to get your attention with his wealthy image and known name and with his charming and colorful persona it was easy to strike up a conversation with you. To him, you were hitting it off amazingly and you would even listen intently as he’d talk about Egyptian culture. But in reality you had tried to end the conversation more than twice. Maybe you were just untrustworthy of the wealthy but there was something about him that just seemed so… fake. You just weren’t that interested in him.

But he just kept coming, almost everyday, and stays sat at the counter in front of your station for practically half of your shift just conversing with you. He thinks he’s swooning you, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s annoying you and on the brink of creeping you out. But that becomes not enough for him, he starts to find himself stalking you outside of work and soon enough plants cameras in your apartment. He feels as if he just needs to get a glimpse of you in order to get through his day. It’s actually ridiculous.

The more he scratches his own itch, the itchier it gets. Now he’s meticulously planning your interactions, like “bumping into you on the street” and “coincidentally” ending up at the same stores as you, as well as manipulating situations. He even one time anonymously paid a guy to verbally harass and berate you at work just so he could step in to protect/defend you and send the “disrespectful” man out of your cafe. That did nothing but stroke his own narcissistic savior-complex.

When the news station on the TV replayed last night's live interview with the superhero group, Adrian asked you if you had a favorite of the Crimebusters. You told him you were biased with your personal favorite, Ozymandias, because of how he was the one to save your life once.

That was all Adrian needed to cross the first line. At first he hired just one criminal to corner you in an alleyway, try to mug and give you a good scare. Then your knight in shining armor comes to your rescue, resulting in you showering him in your gratitude while trembling to the bone and full of tears. He walked you home again, calmly conversing with you just like the first time except he noticed that you seemed more at ease with Ozymandias than Adrian Veidt. But then he started hiring more people to give you scares and serious threats, his superhero persona saving you each time. He just felt so… good when you relied on him and cowered into his arms.

Of course you noticed that ever since Mr. Veidt entered your life, bad things have suddenly started happening to you once a week or two; dangerous trouble following you as if it were your very own shadow. But just your luck, you were saved each and every time by the tall and blond Crimebuster. Of course you knew it was weird, it often made you unable to sleep. You’ve brought it up to Ozy after he saved you from an attempted sexual assault, but he simply saw it as him always being at the right place and the right time. He told you that these specific streets were his patrol area. Sometimes it sounded like he was blaming you for always getting in trouble, it made you feel like you were losing it. Your feelings about Ozy lost its comfort, there was something with him that began to unsettle you.

You came to the conclusion that Adrian Veidt just had bad people after him and because of how often he came to see you those people were going to harm you to get to him. You wanted Adrian out of your life, hell, you weren’t even really that fond of him anyway. Your “friendship” was basically one sided. You believed that if you fucked him, he would finally leave your life and take his enemies with him. You believed a good fuck was just all he wanted from you, what he has been trying to get this whole time. That’s all what he wants, that’s always what men want.

Fortuitously, Adrian came to the same conclusion. He realized how much you were affecting his life and work and himself. He believed he just needed to fuck you to finally satisfy his desire for you, then he’d return to normal.

And so, the two of you had sex. And it was truthfully incredible. He even made you finish. Adrian slept peacefully that night, knowing he could finally move on with his life without you constantly distracting him. But sex just makes it worse. It makes it so much worse. Because that just made him realize that he wants so much more than sex from you, that he is in love with you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when the next day Adrain came to your work with a bouquet of big red roses. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. He called you endearing names like “my dear” and “darling”. You felt sick. He continuously did this the following days. You politely declined all the flowers and gifts with reasonable enough excuses for him to take them back. You never humored him or encouraged any of his behavior, you relentlessly gave him signs and hints that you didn’t feel the same way at all. But he was either too delusional to pick them up or he just simply ignored them.

He soon told himself that you would be less tense around him if you knew that your lover and your superhero were one and the same. He felt like you deserved to know. So he told you, but you didn’t believe him until you saw the proof. You felt even more sick when you saw it.

You didn’t know what to do. You felt at the end of your rope. You nervously stuttered out reasons why you couldn’t be with him because of his double life: you didn’t want to worry about him every night, you feared villains might use you against him, you think he wouldn’t have time for you outside of saving the city and fighting villains, you wouldn’t want to make him choose between you and the city, etc.

You felt pathetic and ashamed that you didn’t have the courage to tell him plain and simple that you did not want to be with him because you just didn’t see him in that way… at all.

The next day what you saw on the evening news at work made you drop a plate, your jaw dropping and your pulse skyrocketing. Ozymandias revealed his secret identity to the world… and announced his retirement. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, nononononono-

You were closing the cafe all by yourself at the late hour when Adrian came in with the happiest smile. You kept your distance as horror gripped around you suffocatingly.

“You… you shouldn’t have done that. Not for me.”

“Why not? Now you don’t have to worry any longer. Now we can finally be together.”

You stared at him in disbelief, not believing your eyes. “…Smartest man alive my ass.” You mumbled before you suddenly snapped. “Don’t you get it?! I am not interested! I never have been from the very beginning! That night was just supposed to be a one-night-stand, that was all!”

Adrian’s expression was frozen in confusion and shock. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I fucking do! Open your eyes! You’re fucking crazy! You are delusional! Now please, I am begging you, get out of my life and leave me alone! You narcissistic creep!”

He left after a minute of staring at your petrified, furious composure. You finished closing with a haunting, foreboding feeling lingering over your shoulders. That was just your intuition warning you of what was to come.

Because Adrian kidnapped you from your home that very same night.

Kisses: What exactly made them fall for their darling?

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

There was many factors that prompted him to fall for you but the top three reasons were:

Damsel in distress: That feeling he felt within his bones when he caught you that night before you could hit the pavement and you huddled into him with your arms tightly around him while you shook and wept. He never felt like more of a hero than in that moment. He desperately chases that warm, buzzing feeling and you were the only one who made him feel it. Every superhero needed their damsel in distress, and you were just the perfect victim.

Desperation for love and connection: He had always felt alone and isolated from the rest of the world with his unnaturally high intelligence. He couldn’t connect with anyone in grade school, he couldn’t connect with the Crimebusters, he couldn’t connect with his business partners, he couldn’t connect with anyone alive. But he felt an electrifying connection with you. He doesn’t even know exactly what it was from. When he monitored you in your home he compulsively searched for things that related the two of you together. Deep down, this was just because he was desperate for love, for a companion, to be loved by that companion (and u know what they say: it’s lonely at the top). He just needed one thing to convince him that you were soulmates meant to- You had a cat… He loves cats!

Savior complex: The damsel in distress thing he has with you heavily fuels his savior complex. He is convinced you need him. He has made it his sworn duty to save you and therefore protect you. You need him, even more if you don’t know it. And bonus points if you have a toxic boyfriend, family, roommate, landlord, or boss. You need him to save you from it all. Even though your lifestyles were seemingly polar opposites, he came to the conclusion that you both were just made for something bigger. You two were born in the wrong timeline. You both deserved to be royalty. That’s why he found it incredibly insulting watching you wash dishes at your job and endure all the bratty customers that had endless complaints. You didn’t deserve to live like that. He had to save you. He will save you.

He wants you to be his queen, but also his damsel in distress. It’s a complex dynamic that is just nothing but unhealthy.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Adrian's love and affection would be displayed through grand gestures and displays of devotion. He would go to extreme lengths to ensure your happiness and safety, even if it meant sacrificing others to fulfill what he thinks will accomplish those two things. He would shower you with extravagant gifts and orchestrate elaborate romantic moments/experiences, he’s overall a very flashy lover which could morph into something overwhelming and suffocating. The intensity of his actions would escalate over time, eventually crossing ethical boundaries and causing harm to others just to prove to you his devotion.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He prefers to keep his human exterminations neat and clean. But on the other hand he would be very willing to get very messy. He would not hesitate to eliminate anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship, even if it means resorting to extreme and disastrous measures like manipulation, deception, and violence: overall very morally questionable actions. But don’t worry, he always cleans up after himself.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Once abducted, he treats it like it was all for the best, like he saved you. He’d tell you that you will be far better off with him. That God complex and savior complex of his makes him incredibly delusional. He’d be overprotective (even though you’re in his own home) and very controlling. He’d treat you like a queen, a goddess, making sure you have everything you could ever need or want. But even though you lived like an empress in luxury, you still felt like a prisoner more than anything.

Adrian wouldn’t mock you at all, he’s relatively very calm and patient with you, other than patronizing you in a dismissing tone when you attempt to attack him and/or escape.

“Grow up.”

After awhile he will eventually take you out back into public, only linked to his arm though (like you’re a dog on a leash).

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, he would. He is so manipulative and controlling and crosses many lines and many of your boundaries. He might even harm you to ensure your obedience and loyalty. He is forceful and uncompromising and intimidates you to do his self-indulgent requests. Your sex always falls under dub-con as you can never find the courage to deny him and push him away, resulting in just letting him get what he wants.

If it wasn’t already obvious he also forces you into a relationship with him, and makes it public without your consent.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He bares a significant portion of his heart to you. He’s not ashamed to be vulnerable with you as he is extremely and deeply invested in your relationship. He would be willing to do anything to protect you and do anything for you. Although he does keep many secrets from you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would feel a mix of anger, frustration, and disappointment. He would take it very personally and view it as a betrayal. And like I said before, this is when he’s willing to mock you for your attempts. You seriously think you could outrun him? Over power him? Outsmart him? Can you actually see yourself winning in a fight against the Ozymandias? Are you stupid or are you just delusional? Fighting back would just make it worse for yourself since now he’s even more determined to exert control over you.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It’s not a game to him but he will admit that he does find some thrilling enjoyment in the chase. It almost brings him back to his superhero glory days catching a villain. But don’t pull this often though.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Your worst experience with him would probably be when you got very close to escaping, the closest you’ve ever been. You had turned the manipulation tables around on him and got yourself an opening to escape. After weeks of appealing to his ego and god/savior complex and demonstrating clinginess to him, you finally got him wrapped around your little finger. You seduced him to bed and right before things got too heated, you coquettishly asked him to go get champagne. He all-too eagerly complied and practically skipped out the bedroom to get the drink.

What the smartest man alive didn’t know was that the champagne bottle was underneath the bed. And without wasting a second you dug into the jacket he dropped on the floor, when he hastily tried to undress, for the keycard that unlocked the front door. With it now tightly in your grasp, you made the quietest run for it, bolting out the bedroom. You quickly unlocked the front apartment door and slipped out into the hallway to sprint down the stairs, too much of a risk waiting for an elevator in pursuit of the lobby on the bottom floor to finally expose Adrian for what he really was.

Adrian was growing tempered as he scrambled for the bottle, unable to find it anywhere, and the image of how willing you were for him on his silk sheets on his mind made him far too impatient when searching. He eventually said “fuck it” and returned to the room to tell you he’d get you champagne afterwards. He froze halfway into the bedroom when he found you absent. He blinked, glanced around the room once, then let out a growling huff of “NO” before thrashing his desk to the ground then rushing out of the room and to the front door. The notice that it was unlocked assured him what you were attempting.

He effortlessly caught up to you on the flight of stairs and tackled your heaving body, sending you both tumbling down the rest of the few remaining steps in an entangled mess. Once you finally hit the ground you pushed through your physical exhaustion and dizziness to open the door right next to you, the light of the lobby temporarily blinding you. You inhaled to scream for help but one hand clasped over your mouth and one hand gripped onto your throat, aggressively tugging you back through the door before anyone had the chance to notice you.

With a hand squeezing your throat and the other still tightly across your mouth and jaw, Adrian slammed your back against the wall. His face was pink with fury, a vein bulging on his forehead, his gritted teeth bared. He growled viciously at you, his words translating to a deafening ring in your ears as your terror and adrenaline rendered you paralyzed. But his violent threats were clear to you, as well as the realization of the extent of Adrian's obsession with you and the lengths he would go to possess and control you.

He harshly knocked you out to drag you back up the stairs.

You still had nightmares about that night.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

In his ideal future with you, you’re married and you are completely devoted to him as he is to you… and he has full control over your life and decisions.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Yes, his jealousy is surprisingly very intense and a little scary. He’s so convinced that you two have a bonding connection that he has this weird paranoia that everyone else is trying to ruin your connection, that anyone and everyone is trying to rip you from his grasp.

It depends on the situation and location with how he would act.

If it’s someone flirting with you or even simply getting too chatty or close to you, he tries to maintain his composure due to being in public. But on the inside he’s absolutely raging. His body language would grow rigid and tense, and his jaw and fists would clench and tighten. The worse he’d look to others is simply just agitation and annoyance. But it’s much darker than that on the inside.

It’s not that he’s insecure that you’d like someone else better, it’s his possessiveness that blinds him and perceives the interaction as a threat, that the person is trying to take you away from him. He’ll quickly insert himself into your conversation, casually bring up you two were an item and even lived together, then eventually take you away from the exchange. Later that night when you two are alone he might lash out in anger at you. He isn’t blaming you but he unintentionally takes his anger out on you verbally.

If it’s a friend you’ve been spending a little too much time with, he will constantly be monitoring you through cameras due to his controlling behavior. He will begin socially isolating you and keep adding things to your schedule to eliminate the free time that you’d spend with the lowlife. If it doesn’t make enough of a difference that pleases him, he might resort to manipulation and threats to maintain his perceived ownership of you.

His jealousy would deeply affect him emotionally. He’s a mess of possessiveness and the fear of losing you. This all consumes him, leading to heightened paranoia and more inability to trust others. His jealousy could drive him to extreme actions that he condones with the simple “it was the last resort”. You wouldn’t miss any of those people you got a little close with yesterday if they suddenly turned up bloody in the newspaper, right?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes, drastically. He puts up this charming, composed facade to his comrades and the public. To everyone he was just this respectful pacifist vegetarian with a very caring and conscientious reputation. But that was just a mask concealing his true colors, the true colors that you had the misfortune of being exposed to. His true colors reveal how arrogant, egotistic, and cold he really is, how intense his God complex actually is. And his obsession and twisted love for you would create a much darker and volatile side of his personality that no one has seen. You’ve seen with your own eyes the extreme lengths he’d go to to protect and control you, showing a stark contrast to his demeanor with others.

Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?

Not anyone specific, but he would consider literally anyone who poses a perceived threat to his relationship with you as a rival. Like someone who shows interest in or gets close to you, or even someone he perceives as a potential obstacle in your relationship. He views his rivals with intense jealousy and will go to extreme lengths to eliminate or neutralize them. He basically has the paranoia of someone in a contest/competition with the rest of the world, and if you were the end prize he is not afraid to play dirty against the other contenders. He will win.

Obsession: Are they more obsessive or possessive?

I honestly see it as 50/50. He’s obsessed with you to an unhealthy, unsettling, worrying amount. He is completely fixated on you and finds you as the most interesting person he’s ever met. He is obsessed and fascinated with every aspect of your character. He is constantly thinking about you, every single one of his unrelated thoughts always ends with you and he is casually clingy, always wanting to be near you. He’s overly attached to you and before he kidnapped you, stalking you was one of his favorite things to do.

Adrian, in his most simplest form, is just a love-sick creep.

But at the same time, he is incredibly possessive of you. He wants to assert control over you and destroy any perceived threats to your relationship or his animalistic claim on you. He just wants to have you. He will sabotage any and all of your relationships and even harm anyone who gets too close. But this equal combination just makes him an even more dangerous lover.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

I think he would have a high level of patience with you. With your bad behavior, he’s willing to wait and endure any obstacles/challenges that come his way in order to maintain your relationship. Though most of the time he just sees your severe mental breakdowns as mere temper tantrums. And just like a child, you’ll tire out of your little moody tantrum. And when it comes to waiting for you to return his love, he’s also patient. He 100% believes that you will eventually love him back. You two are soulmates, so it’s only natural that you’ll stop resisting and let your attraction sink in.

Additionally, when after his plan is executed and you are so mortified of what he’s done that you won’t even let him touch you or get too close to you, he is still patient with waiting for you to get over it.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you died, he would be profoundly devastated and feel like he lost an actual part of himself, like you took a part of him to die with you. He’d never move on, it’d be the most difficult thing he’s ever faced. His obsession and attachment to you are too deeply ingrained inside him. He’d become consumed by his grief, leading to disturbing actions in the future. Also, he’d become a little careless with himself and wouldn’t really care if he risked his life, his own life is significantly less in value to him without you, and that’s saying a lot considering how highly he views himself. He doesn’t want to live in a world where you’re no longer breathing, he wants to reunite with you.

Let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be able to leave him. He would never allow you to go. But if he noticed that it has been on your mental wishlist, he’d resort to extreme measures to try and win back your love, as if he even had it in the first place.

If you successfully escaped, he’d become morbidly obsessed with tracking you down and would resort to extreme measures to regain back control. He is unhealthily determined to find you.

Move on? What a joke. He will never let go of you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

With his extreme obsession and distorted perception of love, he would never feel guilty. He truly believes he is in the right and that you should be grateful and happy. This is just an act of protecting you and preserving your relationship. He just wants to give you the life you deserve, what’s so wrong with that? He would never willingly release you. His possessiveness and need for control are far too severe.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates it. It saddens and concerns him. He just wants you to be happy, why aren’t you happy? He’s given you everything you could ever ask for, including his infinite love and unwavering devotion. Is it the color of the walls? Because those could be repainted! Was dinner not cooked right? He’ll fire the chef and find the best one in the world! Unless you’d feel safest with him preparing your food, that could be arranged too!

He’ll go to comfort you to the best of his physical abilities, wanting to be the only one to provide solace and support. Your tears will appeal to his savior complex heavily, assuring him that you do need him. He wants to save you.

Although he wouldn’t say it to your face, but you know you wouldn’t be miserable right now if you just accepted his love and reciprocated it. You’re making your own life worse.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He varies from the classic yandere archetype due to the Watchmen storyline and he might differ with the methods he uses to assert control. Even though he gets very violent and murderous with his motivations to have you, he’s still much more of a pacifist compared to the classic yandere.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

It would be a great challenge but if you could find a way to manipulate his emotions or appeal to his huge ego or savior-complex, it might create an opportunity for escape. You might even be able to appeal to his sense of morality. But this would all require careful planning and you need to take the time to understand his psyche.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Potentially, if he believes it is necessary to protect or possess you. The most violent he would get with you is when capturing you during an escape attempt and dragging you back home.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He has an extreme level of reverence and worship towards you. He literally views you as a goddess bound to a human body. He would go to great lengths to win you over. At first it would just be extravagant gifts and surprises as well as dreamy promises but then as time goes on he would resort to manipulation, forceful control, or committing harmful actions in the name of love.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He pines after you for an extended period of time, his obsession slowly taking over him. He officially snaps and crosses the next line when you screamed your rejection at him. He felt as if his perfect world shattered around him, the shards ripping him apart. It’s that night that he simply just couldn’t take it anymore and steals what he wants.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He really doesn’t want it to come to that, but he is capable of it if he believes it will ultimately strengthen your bond or maintain control over you.

Extra headcanons:

♡ I believe the bigger his ego grows, the more his obsession with you intensifies

♡ He’s constantly seeking your validation and reassurance, when he gets really vulnerable with it he almost looks like a little boy (you saw how he got with Jon at the end of the comic)

♡ He’s highly calculated and strategic in his pursuit of your love

♡ His wealth, reputation, and resourcefulness makes him formidable and dangerous

♡ He’s low key convinced that you did used to love him but somewhere along the way he lost it. Now he’s hell-bent to get it back

♡ He has surveillance and cameras hidden all over the apartment, literally three different angles in every room, so he can still watch you and keep tabs on you while at work. He also just has an unsettling fascination with your every move

♡ Yes he does own a shrine of you

♡ This happens extremely slowly, but he socially isolates you more and more and while his obsession deepens and his morality is deforming, then it transitions into isolating you from the outside world. You eventually end up in a secret underground “lair”, he just wants you to belong to him and him alone

♡ His switch between his charming public persona and his dark, possessive side with you gives you mental whiplash

♡ He spouts out speeches to you about how much he loves you with that space-out look in his eyes, his words filled with dark and possessive undertones which unsettle you greatly

♡ He’s madly greedy with your attention

♡ The retired Crimebusters potentially might interfere with your unhealthy relationship if they notice Adrian’s obsessive and possessive behavior, put their two-cents in on what they think. Adrian feels threatened by their interference and gets defensive/hostile towards them. He’s determined to protect your relationship, even from people he liked to call his friends

♡ Rorschach is a different story. When he first sees you in the paper linked with Adrian, he thinks you’re a gold digging whore set on sabotaging Adrian. He’s suspicious and distrustful of you. But when he stalked you and Adrian on the streets multiple times, he began to notice how just… unhappy you looked. When Adrian wasn’t looking you would glare at him, you tensed when he touched or kissed you, you repeatedly scanned your surroundings as if looking for somewhere to run, and overall unhappy. All this prompted Rorschach to believe that there was something more going on with the city’s golden couple, something dark hidden

♡ After weeks of digging and investigating and interrogating, Rorschach learns the whole truth. And he’s frankly disgusted with Adrian. He’s the one that tries to intervene the most and take action to protect your well-being and prevent any potential harm. But, when he catches onto Rorschach, Adrian does every little thing in his power to keep him away from you

♡ One of the reasons he chooses his own city to destroy for his plan is to finally and permanently eliminate everyone from your life. Now he’s finally the only one in your life. Why are you crying? He is all that you’re ever going to need, he is more than enough

115 notes · View notes

musingsofvenus · 2 years

Note

⭐️!

I love To All the Monsters from infinity to infinity. Like absolutely obsessed with it. It was the fastest I’ve ever written a fic, and it’s honestly my favorite Jacob x Bella fic out of all the ones I’ve written so far. I made so many subtle and not so subtle references from canon. I wish I could re-live writing it all over again. Friends to lovers?? Fake dating?? Teenage romance and drama????? It’s my baby. Honorable mentions below the cut!

Thank you for the ask, and even bigger thank you for making the chapter moodboards when the fic was first released!!!! ILYSM 💕💕💕💕

Chapter 4

“Guys, I’m sure you know Bella,” Jacob begins. He tugs Bella forward. “But as of yesterday, she’s my girlfriend.”

They’re met with silence.

Bella glances at Jacob with worry. This is what she was afraid of. Did they think she was a spy for the vampires? Are vampires and werewolves really mortal enemies like they are in the movies?

She didn’t want any of them to get angry with Jacob for inviting her. She tries to wiggle her fingers free to escape the blank stares, but Jacob’s grip remains firm.

“Freakin’ finally!” Embry yells, breaking the silence.

Quil jumps up to give her and Jacob a high five. “Welcome to the pack, vampire girl!”

I absolutely ADORED this part in the movie when Peter introduces Lara Jean to his friends AKA the “cool crowd.” It was easy translating this to the Twilight verse-- do y’all remember when Jacob invited Bella to the bonfire in Eclipse, and she was worried the pack would hate her? It just fit here so well. Writing this scene also really made me wish they all went to high school together for real. That would’ve been an interesting dynamic. But alas!

Chapter 6

Bella worries her lip with her teeth. “Dad, can you please be nice? And normal?”

Charlie grumbles under his breath, “I’m always nice.”

Liar, Bella wants to scream. She stomps her foot instead.

“Dad-”

Charlie pulls the door open before she can get a word out.

Jacob stands on the porch dressed in a shockingly unripped pair of jeans and a light blue polo. Bella didn’t know he owned anything other than casual t-shirts.

He looks… really good. Bella swallows harshly.

This entire chapter was the cutest thing ever, but I just wanted to point out this opening scene. I took inspiration from the scene in Twilight when Bella asks Charlie to be meet Edward and be nice to him. That scene in the film was *chef’s kiss* because what can top the scattered beer cans, the cocking of the gun, and Charlie sarcastically drawing a halo over his head? Nothing. Literally nothing. Charlie supremacy!!

Anyways- when Bella answers the door (in the books), she described Edward as a model in a raincoat ad...? I thought that was the most hilarious way to describe someone’s attractiveness because all I could picture was Bella drooling over an LL Bean catalogue. I was tempted to write that Jacob looked like a walking LL Bean ad as a joke, but it didn’t make the cut. And Bella had the funniest temper in the books that we didn’t see in the movies, so I had to include the beloved foot stomp.

#to all the monsters #ask #twilight au #jacob x bella

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lexosaurus · 3 years

Note

hi! I’m so sorry if this is a bother, but i thought you might be a good person to ask. i recently rewatched danny phantom as an adult - i loved it as a kid and wanted a good dose of nostalgia. after typing in the tag it was wild to find the phandom still up and kicking (honestly with more passion than i’ve seen from any fandom in my 8 years of tumblr). i immediately came across fanart for phantom of truth which i devoured along with its sequel in just a few days. i also read pits by cordria and loved it, but in the last week i’ve hit a bit of a research lull. i was wondering if you could fill me in on some details - maybe point me in the direction of popular fics or material? also, could you please explain wes weston to me - is there a particular fic he was born from or did he just sort of appear in fan lore? if not no worries, but i’d appreciate anything you had to offer!! thanks :)

Welcome to the phandom!

So the phandom in general is SUPER big on events. We have a year round event's calendar of which we're currently celebrating Ectober Month! You can find the details to that in the calendar along with other upcoming events!

In general, you'll find a LOT of incoming dp fan media through events and their tags, and that's where I tend to find new writers/artists to follow each year.

I've made two in depth posts on Wes Weston, so I'll just link them here [1: the older detailed wes] [2: a more updated wes]. The basic intel though is that yes he's entirely a phandom made OC that we've just adopted to fill a social hole in the dp universe.

There are tons of amazing DP writers and fics. I'll link you a few of my faves! In no particular order,

1. @imekitty (her ffn) is an older phandom writer who is kinda my personal gold standard for angst. She's also done some awesome slash fics though! Her current most popular series is the Disparaged/Dissembled series and fair warning, it's pretty dark!

2. @ecto-american (ghostanimal on ao3) is another older phandom writer who's still super active! He's currently most known for his fic Broken Ectoplasm, which is a bit darker than his usual pieces. Regardless, he has a pretty good range!

3. @five-rivers (marsalias on ao3) is an absolute writing fiend. I literally can't think of a genre of fic that they haven't written. They're currently best known for their monster of a longfic Mortified, which is ongoing and currently sits at a 258 chapters, or a little over a half million words. I personally am a big fan of their Exhumed series.

4. @wastefulreverie (her ao3) doesn't write a ton for dp anymore, but her archive of fics is AMAZING. Every so often I'll just go binge her writing, it's seriously fantastic. I think she has written some of my favorite angst fics that I've found so far.

5. @ladylynse (lynse on ao3) is another really big writer who also does a fair amount of crossovers if you're into that. Currently, her biggest fic is The Trouble With Ghosts which is an extremely popular fic currently. Good stuff!

6. @things-i-cannot-do-in-amitypark (their ao3) has several extremely popular fics on ao3 and ffn. I definitely recommend checking out their stuff. They've been writing DP for years and really have a great grasp on narration and building an exciting story.

7. @kinglazrus (UnluckyAlis on ao3) is actually one of the fastest writers I've ever freaking met. They're most known for their fic The Survivalists which is about Danny's class disappearing only to be found stranded on an island. Overall, really fun writer and also a cool person as well.

8. I know you said you read Pits, but @cordria has a TON of oneshots on her Tumblr as well as her ffn and ao3. I've been following her works for years and she really is an absolute S tier writer.

9. Shift by CaptainOzone is literally my favorite dp fic ever written. The basic premise is that Danny didn't grow up in Amity, and is revealed as Phantom right before he moves there. Oz is an outstanding writer and I'm super pumped they dipped their toes into DP for this fic.

10. when im dead, my dearest by redrobin1989 is only three chapters long, but i think honestly it really exemplifies an incredibly well written Valerie-centered fic. I go back and reread it every so often because wowowow.

11. Roughing It by Haiju is a big phandom favorite. You already read PoT/SOAD, so I know you'll like this one hahaha.

12. The Ghost Of Heroes by Enigmaris and ScarletNightFury is a really popular DP/MCU crossover starring an amazing bond between Danny and Spiderman. It's a pretty lighthearted fic, but it's super fun and the storylines are really engaging.

13. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time by MissMegHolden is a DP/Young Justice fic that's very popular right now if you like that crossover. It's ongoing and updates semi-regularly. I've been following it for a while and I love it, though this is one of my fave crossover types (and I'm a big fan of DP crossovers lmao).

14. In The Eye of a Needle by mystyrust is an extremely popular DP/BNHA crossover fic that is completed. This is another one of those fics I go back and reread a lot.

Okay I could keep going but I'm going to stop here for now. All in all, I definitely recommend scouring event tags for new writers/artists. The phandom also has a discord that you can always DM me for an invite. The phandom in general is extremely chill. We're an older fandom so we really don't have drama or anything.

Once again, I welcome you and I hope you have fun!

(oh quick plug my own ao3 i write a lot of angst)

#danny phantom #phandom #ask #fic recs #author recs

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fellintotartarus · 4 years

Text

you ask me what i’m thinking about (spencer reid x fem!reader)

Summary: On a night out, Reader discovers that her crush, Spencer Reid is a virgin and takes him home. 3.3k words

A/N: This is literally the fastest I’ve ever written anything oh my god. Anyways, enjoy.

Warnings: Literal fucking filth, the whole thing. Sub!Spencer smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), penetration, praise kink.

“Okay, never have I ever done it standing up against a wall,” Penelope said, beginning a game of the most childish, yet absolute most fun drinking game ever.

“Unfair, Pen, I told you that story yesterday,” you whined, throwing back a shot of cheap tequila, noticing Emily and Derek join you. The whole team (minus the dads Hotch and Rossi) were gathered on the floor of Penelope’s living room unwinding after a case.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Penelope said with a drunken grin.

“That’s actually not how that saying should be applied, and if you look back to the--” Spencer started before he was cut off. He was easily the most sober of the group, which was saying something. Even he was bleary-eyed and swaying slightly in his seat.

You ran your eyes over his frame hungrily. Deciding to get drunk around the man you had a massive crush on was starting to look like a mistake as you found yourself leaning closer to him, stabilizing yourself on his thigh when you wobbled. You heard his breath hitch. You smiled, tracing your fingers over his clothed skin quickly before removing your hand.

“Sorry,” you said lowly, eyes lingering on his lips.

God what you wouldn’t do to kiss those lips raw and bite them--

“Y/N? It’s your turn,” you heard Emily say from across the room.

You turned to them, thinking. Oh, you knew a way to get nearly every single one of them (save maybe Emily) to drink.

“Never have I ever been a virgin at the age of seventeen,” you said smugly. Workplace gossip paid off.

Everyone except Emily rolled their eyes and threw back a shot, mumbling complaints.

Derek laughed and said, “Never have I ever been a virgin at my current age.”

You looked around, confused. Who on earth--

Oh.

Well, that is delightful, you thought as you watched Spencer sigh, flip Derek off, and take a shot.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy, we’ll get you laid one of these days,” Derek said.

Every single dirty thought you had ever had about this man doubled the instant you realized the world you could show him. The heat between your legs increased. Thanks to the alcohol, you had no problem scooting even closer to him as the game progressed. You hoped he would use his 187 IQ and crazy smart profiler brain to pick up what you were trying to tell him when you lightly grazed his hand with your pinky and drooped your head onto his shoulder. Sure enough, you heard his breathing speed up and he glanced down at you, his curious eyes meeting your lustful ones. He cleared his throat before looking back at the group. You sat like that for the rest of the game.

After a couple more hours of just sitting around and goofing off, you were definitely getting sober. The room no longer spun pleasantly and your body lacked the hum that came with drinking.

What didn’t wear off, though, was the thrumming need between you and Spencer. You were always flirty with him and he always blushed and tried to reciprocate, but this was a whole different level. He would turn to you occasionally, as if to reassure himself that you were, in fact, still looking at him like you wanted to pin him up against a wall and it would leave him slightly out of breath.

You loved the effect you had on him, how one glance of yours could leave him shuddering softly.

When everyone (sober enough, Emily was definitely crashing on the couch) finally started to stand up and get ready to leave, you took your opportunity and grabbed Spencer by the arm, whispering, “My place?” sweetly in his ear. He inhaled sharply and nodded his head, trailing after you out the door, both of you saying your goodbyes.

Spencer had taken the Metro, so you went in the same car and it was torture. You kept your hand on Spencer’s thigh the entire time, leaving him to shift in his seat, hoping to find more friction.

“Patience,” you said sweetly. He gulped and nodded.

As soon as you pulled up to your apartment, you practically pulled him over the console by the tie and kissed him.

You grabbed the base of Spencer’s head, twisting your fingers harshly through his hair before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was hungry, teeth clashing, and Spencer returned it eagerly. You ran your hands over his chest, stopping only to brush his nipples, which earned you a shudder and he pushed closer to you.

You broke the kiss, saying, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, following you up the stairs to your apartment door. Once inside, you turned and kissed Spencer sweetly, a contrast from in the car.

You pulled away, his face in your hand, and said, “Are you good?”

Spencer said, “Yeah. I trust you.”

Your heart swelled exponentially. You were so lucky.

“Anything you don’t like and we stop, okay? You’re safe with me.” you said, playfully stern.

Spencer smiled, nodding and leaned back in to kiss you. You stopped him with a finger against his lips.

“I need to hear you say it,” you replied, eyebrows raised, cupping his face in your hand.

Spencer’s eyes widened and you felt his pants tighten against your hip.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Oh, this was an interesting development. You hadn’t wanted to bring this side of you out so soon, but Spencer seemed so eager for it.

You smiled, running your thumb back and forth on his cheek. “Do you like it when I take control, Spence?” You gripped his hip in the other hand.

His breathing shallowed, eyes fluttering when your finger dipped under his shirt and pants and rubbed small circles into his hip bone. He nodded weakly.

Your hand on his face shifted to grip his chin, bringing his eye level down to you.

“Baby, use your words,” you said sweetly, taking your time.

“Yes. Please,” Spencer basically whined, and it went straight to your core.

Okay, this was happening.

You moved your hand that was on his hip and cupped his bulge, running your fingers back and forth softly. He let out a small whimper and his hips moved subtly, begging for more. You smiled, every movement electrifying you further.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off for me and meet me in the bedroom?” you said sweetly, obviously not intending it as a question.

Spencer nodded, pulling away from you slowly before walking back to where he knew your bedroom to be.

You took a second to collect yourself, every movement making you painfully aware of how soaked you were.

You were typically fine having vanilla sex or even pretending to submit to a man every once in a while, because men didn’t typically like to hear that you wanted them to submit to you. It got old after a while, though, and just yesterday you had been considering popping in to the local BDSM club to find someone.

But today had proven to be exactly what you needed. Not only were you about to fuck the man you’d had a crush on for a while, but he was sitting pretty in the bedroom, waiting for your next command.

Fuck, you thought, rubbing your thighs together. You’d better get in there, then.

You turned the corner into the doorway and found Spencer down to his tented boxer briefs sitting pretty on the edge of your bed.

You stood in front of him and shrugged your dress off your shoulders, revealing a skimpy bralette and sheer boyshorts.

He gasped softly at the sight of your near naked body and shifted on the bed as if to get closer to you. You smiled, walking to him and positioning yourself between his legs, looking down on him.

You took his face in your hand, squeezing slightly to make his lips pucker. You leaned down and did exactly what you had imagined earlier in the night, kissing him harshly, sucking and biting at his lips, drawing small moans from him.

You ran your fingers up and down his chest, scratching his pale skin and tweaking his nipples every now and then as you continued to kiss him roughly, and Spencer whimpered, wiggling around where he was sitting.

The wetness in your panties had soaked through the fabric and Spencer’s boxers were so tight it just had to have hurt.

You broke the kiss, taking a moment to savor the wrecked look on Spencer’s face. His lips were red and swollen, covered in saliva, and there were red marks from where you had gripped his face.

“What do you know about pleasuring women, Dr. Reid?” you asked teasingly, continuing your ministrations on his chest.

“I may be a virgin, but I’m not stupid,” he said, out of breath. He picked up his hand and trailed it along your inner thighs, making you shiver. He ghosted across where you needed him most.

His eyes met yours, asking silent permission which you granted with a nod, breath heavy.

You gripped his shoulders hard and threw your head back when he moved your panties aside and slipped his fingers through your soaked folds. He found your clit immediately (goddamn genius) and rubbed it in soft, slow circles. It felt amazing, but it was nowhere near enough.

When he glanced up at you with the subbiest look on his face, you took his face in your hand yet again and breathed, “Not enough, baby.”

Spencer’s face flashed with a look of determination and he increased the pressure on your clit before slipping a finger in your heat. You let out a loud moan and let your eyes flutter shut, running your fingers through his hair in praise.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good for me,” you groaned, which only served to spur him on. He quickly added two more fingers and pumped in and out of you so deliberately, rubbing up against that electric spot inside you every time.

You definitely hadn’t been expecting to cum more than once if at all tonight, but here you were, stood in front of your crush sitting on your bed while he brought you dangerously close to the edge with his fingers.

He continued slipping in and out of you and rubbing circles into your clit, the feeling of his warm fingers making you near delirious. The real turn-on, though, was the way he looked up at you, practically begging for praise.

“Oh, fuck, Spence, you’re doing so good for me, so fucking good,” you choked out as you felt your breath hitch and legs tense, your orgasm so, so near.

“I’m close,” you whispered, unsure of whether Spencer even heard it. You were assured he did, though, when he dipped his head down to your cunt and licked a long, hard, stripe up and down before latching onto your clit and sucking. You let out a long, loud moan.

That was all it took. You came hard on Spencer’s hand, mewls and whines filling the room, walls clamping tightly around his fingers and he nursed it beautifully for you, kitten licking your clit and softly rubbing inside you until you had to pull his hand and face off because your legs were shaking too hard.

You took one look at him, face covered in your juices, lips swollen from the kissing and sucking, hair absolutely mussed from your hands, and it was it took to leave you wanting more. You placed your hand flat on his chest, leading him farther back on the bed. He sat against the pillows and headboard and you placed your soaked core directly on his hard bulge, pulling a whimper from him and a low moan from you.

You leaned in, hungrily kissing him, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue and rocking your hips back and forth slowly, building a fire in you. At this point, Spencer was a mess, practically begging for you to touch him. He bucked his hips up into yours and whimpered with every movement. You moved your hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head back, exposing his throat.

“I’m gonna give you a hickey, alright, baby? That way everyone will know you’re taken,” you growled into his ear, nipping his earlobe in between words.

Spencer exhaled sharply and nodded, not speaking. You gave his earlobe a sharp pull with your teeth, and he jumped slightly.

“Please, Y/N, just own me,” he gasped.

You were sure that you had died and gone to heaven. There was no way your crush was sitting under you right now being a perfect little sub and begging for you to wreck him.

You latched onto his pulse point with renewed vigor, sucking and biting his soft, pale skin. Spencer writhed underneath you, moaning out little expletives you almost couldn’t understand.

You continued until you were met with an angry bruise blooming on his beautiful neck, satisfied with your work.

“There we go,” you teased, scooting back on the bed until your face aligned with Spencer’s bulge. You let your breath ghost over his clothed dick and licked at the wet spot on his boxers. Spencer whined, an honest to god high pitched whine, and it was so hot you had no choice but to wrap your mouth around the head of his cock through his boxers.

He was obviously trying to hold back, grasping at the sheets with his hands and biting his lips to stop from moaning. You pulled back.

“Are you going to be good for me and let me hear you, baby? Or am I going to have to leave you high and dry?” you teased, cocking your eyebrow at him.

Spencer exhaled. “Fuck, please, I’ll be good, I promise.”

If you hadn’t been soaked before, his words just then would’ve done the job.

You lowered your head again, pulling back the waistband of Spencer’s boxers to reveal his cock, hard, pink, leaking precum, and deliciously big.

“Oh, baby, it’s a crime to keep this pretty dick from the world,” you grinned, licking a slow stripe up the underside.

Spencer kept true to his promise and was not holding a single noise back, his head thrown back against the headboard. The room was filled with the curses and moans pouring out of his mouth.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around to collect the precum. His hips bucked into your mouth and you smiled around him, going lower and lower until he hit the back of your throat.

You hollowed your cheeks and slid up and down a few times, leaving him practically yelling. You pulled off with a pop and brought yourself back up to his face, never letting go of his dick.

“As much as I’d like for you to fuck my face and cum down my throat, we’ve got that little viginity issue of yours to solve.”

Spencer looked at you, wide-eyed and gasping and nodded as you gave him a few pumps and positioned yourself over him.

“I’m clean,” he croaked, face red. “Obviously.”

You smiled and leaned in, kissing him softly.

“Me, too. And I’m on the pill. Spencer, are you sure? Because we can stop right now,” you said softly, reassuring him.

Spencer shook his head, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with.”

You smiled, assuming your role once again, “I’m glad to hear it, baby boy. Are you ready for this pussy to change your life?” you said, joking to ease the mood.

Spencer smiled, almost laughing, but then you ran his tip through your folds and his face fell into one of pure bliss. You rubbed your clit against him, covering him in your slick and moaning loudly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you groaned, head thrown back in pleasure.

Spencer squirmed, clearly impatient to feel himself inside you. You chuckled, cutting your grinding against him short to indulge him

You pressed your lips against his in a wildly passionate kiss as you lowered yourself onto him, feeling him stretch you out.

Spencer’s mouth fell open against yours and his strangled moans only encouraged you. Feeling warmed up enough, you dropped the rest of the way onto him, feeling the pleasant burn and crying out.

The feeling was insane. You were so full and satisfied you felt yourself uncharacteristically close again already. You ground your clit in Spencer’s hip bone and mewled loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N, please move,” Spencer begged, writhing under you.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Spence,” you said, halting your movements altogether. He whined and stopped moving, too.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whimpered.

Satisfied with his apology, you brought yourself up slowly, only stopped when he nearly slipped out of you, before dropping quickly, hitting the deepest spot inside you. You repeated the motions again, quicker this time and Spencer’s hands shot out to grip your hips. You decided to allow it purely because of the crazy blissed out look Spencer had on his face.

He looked gorgeous. His hair was fucked and stuck to his forehead with sweat. His head was thrown back in complete pleasure, noises pouring out of his swollen lips continuously and the hickey on his neck stood out prominently.

When you dropped down on him again, he hit a spot inside of you you didn’t even know existed, and you fell forward onto his chest on your elbows, the coil inside you tightening hotly. You straightened up with new determination, practically fucking him into the bed.

Spencer moved his hands up to your tits, pulling one of them into his mouth. His tongue circled your nipple, sucking softly and you grabbed his hair hard, causing him to moan against you. You lowered your hand to where the two of you met, swirling your thumb around your combined juices.

You pulled him off of you and offered him your soaked thumb, which he graciously took into his mouth and began sucking earnestly. You moaned as loud as you ever had. Just seeing him being so good brought you close to the edge again.

“I’m so close,” Spencer said through your hand.

“Me, too. Help me out, baby,” you whispered sweetly, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your clit. He pushed his thumb harshly against it and rubbed and you yelled loudly.

You slammed back down on him and came harder than you ever had, gasping for air and your vision whiting out. a vice-like clamp on Spencer’s dick guiding him over the edge, too. You felt his seed fill you, a warmth spreading inside you. You desperately joined Spencer at your clit, rubbing circles to prolong your orgasm for as long as possible.

Finally, you let yourself go limp on top of him, tracing little patterns into his sweaty skin.

“I hope that was okay for your first time,” you whispered against him, pressing soft kisses into his torso.

“Are you kidding? I think that’s the best sex anyone has ever had their first time,” Spencer said, still catching his breath.

“Are you good?” you asked, turning to face him. “Was that too much?”

Spencer smiled, blushing. “No way. It was perfect.”

The next day at work, you walked in five minutes before Spencer so no one was the wiser.

Spencer walked into the conference room last, so everyone noticed the scarf he was wearing in the warm August weather.

Derek snatched it off of him almost as soon as he sat down and wolf-whistled at his hickey.

“Looks like Pretty Ricky finally got some,” he laughed, everyone joining in in playfully congratulating Spencer. His face reddened and his eyes met yours.

You winked.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #sub spencer reid #dom reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #smut

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st0nesnglitter · 3 years

Text

Smell like heaven

Remus coming home from a night out with the boys.

( this is my first ever fic and i’ve never written before so feedback is more than welcome!)

—————

Your boyfriend had left you at around 9 PM with a dashing grin and a promise of not coming home too late. Since then you have had time to take care of yourself, reading the book you never got to finish, using a face mask that would make Remus swoon if he had known the pricetag of and you got to relax in a warm bath without a whiny boy behind you complaining that his legs were too long to fit.

Of course you adored your boyfriend but you relished in having some time alone. Especially when you knew he was out with his two best friends letting out some of his pent up energy. After some time without mischief all of his emotion got turned up to the max and everything would draw out dramatics from him. An off-handed comment about wanting to be left alone to read would turn into a, in some sense literal, puppy in your embrace that wouldn’t leave you alone until he felt that he got the attention he needed and deserved.

Only thing you didn’t like when he was out on his nightly endeavours with the boys was falling asleep without him. The warmth radiating off him could heat a whole village. His favorite thing was to pull you on top of his chest and caging you in with his arms, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep. But after your long, warm bath a sleepiness had set over your eyes and it didn’t take long until you had drifted to sleep.

With a small stumble Remus made his way through the door and chuckled when he closed and locked it. He tried his best to not get too drunk, but between Sirius trying to make him taste all his favorite whiskeys and James’ teasing about who could chug a beer the fastest he had consumed his fair share of alcohol. But the sight of you sleeping soundly in your shared bed, adorned in one of his muggle band tees, sobered him up in no time.

A strand of your hair had fallen over your cheek and your mouth was slightly agape, looking absolutely ethereal to the lycanthrope. He put a warm hand against your cheek and watched you stir slightly before he went into the bathroom. He rid himself of his clothing that stunk of sweat, beer and smoke and put on his old pyjamaspants. As he tried to put on some toothpaste on his little plastic brush his hands pressed too hard and the tube went flying. A string of curses left his lips as he scrambled to pick it up without causing anymore commotion.

You woke up with a small jolt after hearing noises in your bathroom. At first your heart started racing at the thought of a stranger being in your home, but after hearing the mumbling voice of your dear boy you calmed down. Stretching your arms above your head and let out a sigh and turned to watch the clock on your bedsidetable. It was a little over 1 AM and you let out a yawn. The tumbling in the bathroom had quieted down and you heard the door shut behind you. The duvet was lifted up and a warm presence was found behind you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Remus put his face on top of yours.

”I love you” he murmured, thinking you were still asleep. In the most careful way he could muster in his inebriated state he turned you around and curled around you, placing his chin on top of your head and a hand came out to play with your hair.

”You smell like a bar Rem” you huffed from the crook of his neck. He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before he buried his nose in your hair.

”And you, my love, smell like heaven”.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic

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jamesandthedog · 3 years

Text

I think it’s still @blitheringmcgonagall ‘s birthday where she lives so happy birthday you vaguely shining light of my life! No present could express how glad I am to have you as a friend, but have a little bit of fast written and very unedited Jily:)

Stuffed in Sirius’ drawer

James remembered Lily’s voice and how her hand felt wrapped around his own. At least he thought it was her hand. He remembered seeing the familiar features of his best friend hovering high above him and he thought he had heard voices. He may have slept somewhere between those thoughts, he wasn’t sure. Everything felt a little groggy, dream-like, just like the pain he remembered vaguely in the back of his mind, or those white-clothed witches and wizards he thought he’d seen walk by.

When he really put his mind into it, he could remember fighting Death Eaters near Portobello Road, but now it all seemed fuzzy. It had been late evening, but it wasn’t dark anymore. Where was he?

“James, are you awake?”

There was the voice again, her voice. This was James’ favourite dream, the one were Lily talked to him. Sometimes it was just a voice, sometimes a touch or blurry outlines of her face disappearing before he could quite see them. Though now something in this drowsy state of mind felt different, as if she was closer.

When James tried really hard, he could imagine Lily was holding his hand with both of hers, sitting beside a hospital bed. The image was shattering, there was too much light and he thought she looked tired, worried.

“Great. We’ve wanted him to shut up for years and this is when he decides to listen.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Lily said and it came out almost as a cry.

“He’s going to be alright,” said a third voice, more soothing.

Remus, James realised.

This dream felt more real than the ones before.

“Stop pissing her off, Padfoot,” James muttered.

He heard Sirius laugh. Maybe he heard Lily whisper a Muggle prayer.

It took James some time to open his eyes and realise that Lily really was there. He couldn’t see her properly, he didn’t have his glasses on, but she was there, smiling, her lips kissing his fingers. Then he saw Remus, one hand on Lily’s shoulder as if he’d been massaging her shoulder to calm her down. Sirius was on the other side of the bed, leaning on the window frame, looking like he hadn’t had a shower in days.

“Should’ve known you’d come back from death just to defend Lily,” Sirius said.

James smiled.

“How are you?” Lily asked, placing his glasses on his face and kissing his forehead.

James thought about it. He felt a little sore, not much.

“You’re in St Mungo’s. You’ve been passed out for three days,” Remus added as Sirius walked on the edge of the bed.

That explained the bandages. Three days? Had they given him a sleeping potion? Shit. He moved a little and his whole body ached, making him grimace. Shit.

“Never better,” he smiled.

Lily took a long, shaky breath. James looked at her, and now that he was able to see her clearly, he could see she was upset. She had tears in her eyes. It felt was worse than the actual aching in his chest. James squeezed her hand that was still holding his.

“Good. You really scared Lily,” Sirius grinned.

“Scared me?” Lily scoffed. “You were the one considering going back to your parent’s house to do research on dark magic in case we needed to bring James back from the death!”

“I’d say it’s fair to say you scared all of us,” Remus concluded. “If Peter wasn’t on Order duty, he’d be here to worry over you too.”

James looked at them. He could see the worry boiling in Lily, and he knew Sirius could act calm but the idea of losing any one of his friends got to him. Remus was probably the most sensible one when it came to death, he’d given the idea some thought a long before the war started. He’d probably been the one to guide the others through the past three days, and James didn’t think he could even thank Remus enough for doing so.

“So… You all got out of there unharmed? What happened?” James asked.

Lily bit her lip. She didn’t look at him.

“Snivellus hit you with that curse. Remember the one that cut you at school?” Sirius said, anger in his voice. “Only he’s gotten better at it because it wasn’t just a cut of two, you were bleeding all over. And you know how Bella gets, I couldn’t get to you past her and fucking Snape.”

Lily looked down at their hands and took a long breath collecting herself. James hated putting her through this. Whatever Snape did wasn’t her fault. James squeezed her hand.

“I managed to disparate you, but that was after Snape had thrown a Crusiatus at you,” Lily said quietly. “It took ages for the heelers to stop the bleeding.”

“Your girlfriend hasn’t left the hospital since. And neither has Padfoot,” Remus concluded.

James took a breath and nodded. That explained why he felt his whole body ache. James remembered some of it now. Battling against Snape, the man had sought him out like he always did when he couldn’t see Lily around.

“Thanks. For getting me out of there and, everything,” James said, looking at each of them.

“Thanks for not dying,” Sirius shrugged.

“Me, shutting up for live?” James asked remembering the first words he’d heard Sirius speak. “No way I’d give you the pleasure.”

“I’d hit you if you weren’t looking so crappy already, you know?” Sirius grinned.

“Can I… Can we have a moment?” Lily asked, looking at the two boys.

Remus nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take Sirius home so you can talk. That mutt needs a bath anyway.”

They left, and James was left with Lily. Now that the others were gone she had hard time keeping her eyes dry.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay,” James said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Are you okay?”

A sob escaped her lips, but she nodded, pressing her lips together.

“If you ever – EVER – scare me like that again I swear I-“ Lily started.

“Showcase your Muggle swearwords?” James raised a brow as he interrupted her. He loved listening her swear the Muggle way with all her Gods and Christs.

“Don’t start joking mister couldn’t-wake-up-for-three-days,” Lily snapped, but he knew she was relieved to hear him being back to his joking self. “Besides you told me you’d always win him in a battle!”

He had sworn that not too long ago, when Lily had witnessed Snape seeking James out in a battle two times in a row. It had happened earlier too, and James had a feeling Snape only did it when he thought Lily wasn’t around. But she had caught up to it, so James was forced to talk to her about it. He didn’t want her to worry, and honestly he was better at combat, so he had told her she didn’t need to worry about it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, apologetically.

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to stay alive, you idiot!”

She was sobbing now through the anger and yelling. James tried to sit up, but it was too fast and hurt his chest where Snape’s first curse had hit him. Lily stood up to stop him, but he got up sitting anyway, this time slowly. He pulled Lily closer by the hand until he could hug her. It wasn’t a full hug, not the type of warmth and comfort he was able to give when his chest wasn’t covered in wounds.

Lily cried, her tears wetting the skin on James’ neck as his fingertips draw calming patterns on her back.

“I am alive. I’m not going anywhere,” he hushed, pressing a kiss into her neck.

“You better not,” Lily said. “I’m pregnant.”

James’s fingers stopped petting her back. He let the air escape his lungs and pulled back just enough to see her face, it still hurt but it was the fastest thing on his mind.

“You what?” He asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“You heard me, Potter,” she said with defiance in her voice.

James snorted at it and glanced somewhere above just to take time to comprehend it. It was definitely not something they had been planning. They had been careful. Except maybe… Well, they may have not always waited quite as long as they should have after Lily took the potion preventing this sorts of thing from happening.

“And I’m keeping it so you better not die on us,” Lily added when James looked at her again.

It was a war and bringing a child into that certainly didn’t seem like a responsible thing to do. But when he looked at Lily, he knew what he had known for years. He wanted her. The chaos of war had only made him more certain of it. He hadn’t dare to dream of live after war for quite some time, but there had always been that distant idea of creating a family with her. Their little life together.

James nodded, giving her a smile. “Can you send an owl to Pads?”

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“You really want to write Sirius a letter right now?”

“I need him to bring me something,” James smiled.

“I tell you I’m pregnant and the only comment I get is your need to write to Sirius?”, she asked.

James rolled his eyes and kissed her softly.

“Fine,” he gave up on the letter and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “But if this is going to be very lame because I can’t even get off the bed, you’re the one to blame.”

“James? That makes literally no sense,” Lily frowned. “Are you alright? I’m going to call a heeler.”

James laughed and kissed her again before she had time to move away from him.

“No,” he shook his head and kissed her once more, slowly, bringing his hand in her neck. “I just mean, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. And I can’t promise you I won’t ever die. But I swear I’ll do anything to keep us all safe. I can’t get on one knee-“

“James what-“

“And the ring is stuffed in Sirius’ drawer –“

“James-“

“I fucking love you, Evans-“

“Oh my god.”

“I love your laughter. I love your fierceness. I love your wit. I love how big heart you have. I loved to wake up to your voice today. I love everything about you, even the things that annoy me. And I’m not saying this just because you’re pregnant. Will marry me, Evans?”

There were tears in Lily’s eyes again. His hands had moved to cup her face as he’d spoken and she was holding onto his wrists. He tried to read her expression but he was too nervous to catch her thoughts just by reading her.

“You have a ring stuffed in Sirius’ drawer?” She asked.

“He said I should commit to a ring at least for three months before chaining myself for life.”

“How long has it been there?”

“Around two months.”

Lily nodded. “He’s going to be pissed.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“You’re really going to marry me, Evans?”

“I’m really going to marry you, Potter,” she laughed, and pulled him gently closer, pressing her lips on his.

In that moment James was sure no death eater, not even Voldemort could stop them from winning the war. He had simply too much to live for. So he kissed her back, and felt nothing but utter joy until twenty minutes later when the tiredness took over his aching body and he fell asleep smiling.

#Jily #Jily fanfiction #James Potter #Lily Evans #writings #my writings

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nonbinarychaoticstupid · 3 years

Note

fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

#sep texxt #ask #sandiegocarmen #luz you're in LOVE #sep's writing #toh #the owl house #lumity #luz #luz noceda #amity #amity blight #gosh. gay.#tw abuse #tw abuse mention #toh spoilers

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wicked-jade · 2 years

Text

Tagged By: @matahariherself 💖

Rules: Post your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers!

Well, this should be easy, I don’t have all that many to choose from, lol. So here they are, in no particular order:

An Epiphany (Be Careful What You Wish For) I’ve got a soft spot for this one, because it’s the first fic I wrote after a decade-long hiatus from writing. The finished product is less LawRusso and more a character study of Johnny, his failures as a father, and shared trauma. It’s very insular, almost claustrophobic at times. You’re basically trapped inside Johnny’s messed up head the entire time, both during the S3 strangling and the ride home afterward. This is where I fell in love with writing Johnny’s voice. And honestly it just felt good to complete something after so long.

If It Wasn’t For Bad Luck It’s my baby so of course it had to be on this list. By far the longest thing I’ve ever written, and the one I’m most proud of. I feel like I really honed Johnny’s voice in this one (Daniel’s as well). One of my favorite things is walking the tightrope between comedy and drama, and I’m pretty proud of how I balanced them in this fic. There were parts that were heartbreaking to write, but others that were an absolute joy. Just thinking about Ch. 16 still makes me laugh. This fic quite literally has it all. And all of it crammed into one no-good, horrible, never-ending day, lol. If there’s a crown jewel in my collection, this is it.

Love Me Mercilessly The fic that started my whole, ever-expanding Dutch/Johnny universe. I wrote a drabble for the AllValley100, and challenged myself to build off of that and finally write a PWP. And I was mostly successful, except the porn went and developed a plot after the fact. Now here we are, 5 fics into a series and counting. To think, it all got started with Johnny getting railed in an alley...

Until My Darkness Goes I went back and forth on whether to go with “tape ain’t gonna fix it” or this, but this list is supposed to be my favorites, and I love this one. It didn’t get much attention, but I dunno. It’s just a sweet, tender little glimpse into Dutch and Johnny’s relationship. It’s almost become a comfort fic for me. It was also by far the easiest (and fastest) of any of my stories to write. I got the idea for it on Halloween morning, and it was finished by midnight. This is also the fic where I first introduced my OC Roxanne (Dutch’s mom), who I’m super proud of. She has a much larger role in ‘tape’, but this is where her character really started to take shape.

Welcome to the Party Pal So I wrote this one for @an-sceal for the CK Secret Santa. It started off as something very, very different. Originally, it was going to be a Dutch getting out of jail and surprising Johnny on Christmas Eve fic. But then Johnny decided to watch Die Hard in a bar, and then Lyle walked into said bar and...well. The rest is history, lmao. This is hands down the most fun I think I’ve ever had writing anything. The banter between Johnny and Lyle was a fuckin’ delight to write. Hell, I even managed to write a coherent fight scene. I don’t often go back to re-read my own stories for fun (to check continuity, yes, for fun, no) but I recently read this again and had a blast. By the end, I was wishing for a sequel...and then I realized oops, I’d actually have to write it. 😂

Everyone’s probably already been tagged, but I’ll tag @usaonetwothree, @lulamadison, @phoomwhoosh, @mythicalmongoose, and @deputychairman

#tag game

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peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

seven hundred and one

description: seven centuries and you always seem to bump into hyunjin at least once in every one of them member: hyunjin genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers au, slow burn (technically it is), historical au, vampire au (vampire!skz, implied incubus!hyunjin idk yall decide), witch au (immortal!reader), a sprinkle of established relationship towards the end, implied fem reader word count: 10.3k warning: explicit language, mentions of blood, murder, death, trauma, arson, suggestive (i turn 19 & suddenly i get brave lmao) note: hyunjin playing a thousand years on his post-mucore vlive that happened to fall on my birthday did things to my feelings + took a lot of liberties w the history & nature or vampires if that’s okay + if the narration is confusing just tell me lmao + established relationship au’s in detail makes my head spin ew cheesy stuff

zero

You have always been a traveler even in 1319 when you were still twelve and mortal. Being born and raised into a coven of witches at a time when witchcraft and other non-conforming practices were punishable by death, you naturally had to be for your own safety. Growing up, you had to move from village to village with your family, helping villagers in secret as your main source of income then leaving before word would inevitably and uncontrollably spread; thus leaving you with little to no room to grow intimate attachments with people who are not kin.

Not that you minded the last, anyway, because your mother would always remind you that you can always go back after some time. Korea was vast, then, but there were only a few places you could go to in a cycle. Then, you met Hyunjin.

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a prince, but especially in 1319 when he was still twelve and human. Besides his undeniably regal looks and naturally graceful disposition, he was also a noble in King Taejeong’s court. Of course, you’ve already forgotten his exact title at the time after centuries of living but you do have an inkling of a memory wherein he mentioned something about being related to the king somehow—this said memory being the first time you met him.

You don’t remember all the specific details now but you’re quite certain that you moved to the capital Hanseong in the first place because your mother’s services was requested by the king himself to treat one of his daughters, the only time the monarchy acknowledged you. You can also faintly remember being allowed to wander on your own at the marketplace right outside of the palace courts on the day you arrived only because you competed with your cousins over who can unpack their belongings the fastest and won.

Even now, over seven hundred years later, you’re still thankful that Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong somehow forgot some of their bags in your carriage that day or else you would’ve missed bumping into Hyunjin completely.

He was receiving his chosen bouquet of carnations from a flower stall at the market entrance when you approached, the bright colors of the display chrysanthemums initially catching your eye. As you asked the stand owner about the blue flowers, you noticed that Hyunjin didn’t seem to have any intentions of paying, prompting you to stop him from walking away to ask, “Aren’t you going to pay for that?”

Hyunjin momentarily froze in his steps before turning around to you with raised eyebrows, his head slowly turning from you to the pink flowers in his hands. After this brief pause, you then heard him laugh in amusement for the first time, confusing you further in the moment. “I, uh, I don’t have to. It’s—it’s free for me.”

Ever the curious child, you then asked next, “For you? Why?”

Hyunjin would confess to you later on, some time when you briefly met at an art exhibit in 1880s Spain, that he only entertained you because no one has ever asked him such question in a long time when you did. Because of his status, people both inside and outside the court would leave him alone to do whatever he wants and so he thought it was refreshing that you did otherwise when you first met. He also mentioned something about finding you cute in the fashion of your time but you always dismiss this in embarrassment. You were only seven, for crying out loud.

And so, taking a step closer to you, he then lifted the bouquet up to the level of your faces after he leaned down to your height and, with a mischievous smile, loudly whispered to you, “I’m from the palace courts—an important person to the king!”

Hyunjin still insists at present that he did tell you exactly what his title and relation to the king was but every time you challenge him to tell you what he said, he would clumsily steer the conversation away to something else. Besides this, you have always agreed that you furrowed your eyebrows deeper at him in response and replied, “Still, you should pay. Earning money is difficult these days.” which piqued Hyunjin’s interest in you further.

“I will,” He assured you smoothly, bringing the bouquet down after and turning to the stand owner. Gesturing to the chrysanthemums you’ve been eyeing, he then continues, “if you let me pay for your chrysanthemums. The reason why I couldn’t pay is because my money right now is too big, anyway.”

You protested against his offer politely, reasoning out that you had no intention of buying, but with Hyunjin’s status as a noble also came a persuasive charm to him. “Didn’t you just move here? I can tell with the travelling hanbok.” He pointed out to you, already gathering the best-looking chrysanthemums before he could even hear you say ‘yes.’ You started showing signs of giving in after some five minutes of friendly banter, prompting his optimism. “Consider this as a welcoming gift!”

You had no choice but to accept the flowers in the end with the promise of giving him something in return when you meet again around the palace courts after briefly mentioning your reason for moving to the capital. Holding your bouquet on your left hand to mirror Hyunjin’s bouquet on his right, you then extended your right hand to him before you could part ways. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” You then introduced yourself, already too focused then on thinking of how to repay Hyunjin. “In case I forget and you want to look for me.“

“Hwang Hyunjin. I would definitely not forget but really, you don’t have to repay me.” He smiled as he took your hand in his, reluctantly letting go only when older passersby gave you curious looks. “I just hope you have a good stay here in Hanseong!”

You then made a bracelet out of one stem of the chrysanthemums almost a month later as payment, preserving the petals inside transparent beads with an enchantment that would prevent them from losing their vibrant blue. By this time, you have been seeing Hyunjin almost every day around the palace grounds and with this, he has been slowly piecing together the entire reason for your court presence. With the bracelet, you indirectly confirmed your true nature to him and he wholeheartedly accepted you with a hug behind the hallway pillars.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

You‘ve been best friends ever since, even when you had to leave two years later. At present, Hyunjin still wears the bracelet—even when you insist in making him a new one.

“I like it.” He always tells you whenever you would bring it up. “I liked it then, I like it now, and I’ll like it forever.”

“It’s ancient.” You would scrunch up your nose in response. “You could literally sell it at the local museum.”

“Well, that says a lot about your age, doesn’t i—ow! Ow, I won’t say that ever again just sto—ya, stop hitting me!”

seven

Your family briefly returned to Hanseong five years after your stay to attend one of the elder princesses’ wedding, the same princess your mother has been tasked to treat when she was hired by the king. You were eighteen and almost ready to part with your coven in the event that your mother will ask when you turn nineteen in the fall, having grown particularly proficient in brewing potions after you first left the capital. Hyunjin, on the other hand, became a more prominent public figure in the courts at nineteen as talks of the king appointing one of his sons as crowned prince become more frequent, thus initially making your first reunion awkward.

“Should I address you as Your Highness?” You asked between your teeth as you carefully curtsied back at Hyunjin, glancing on the corners of your eyes in case the passing servants were sparing you looks. “I don’t really know how these things work.”

“No, no need, I don’t think anyone really cares.” He chuckled with a shake of his head as the two of you then simultaneously stood up straight. Looking around the two of you after, his grin then grew wider when he looked back at you before he engulfed you in a hug, startling you— even more when he lifted you up slightly from the ground and spun you once. “Oh, Y/N, I missed you!”

“Y-Ya! Hyunjin, p-put me down, someone could see!” You scolded him instinctively while frantically looking around for any signs of his or your relatives. “Hyunjin!”

“Don’t mind them!” He countered back at you, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale after putting you down. “I missed you. You haven’t written since late Spring!”

You shrugged, feeling strangely cold when he pulled away after. “I’ve been—well, we‘ve been busy. It’s the summer so a lot of people are asking for us and most of my cousins, um, parted with us after my last letter.”

“Oh.” He frowned, having thought of it negatively at first. “I’m sorry about that.”

You remember distinctly shaking your head reassuringly at him over his apology, waving your hand dismissively in front of him at realizing that he misinterpreted. “No, it’s alright. When you turn nineteen, you’re given the choice as tradition—most of my older cousins just so happened to choose parting ways with us.” You then explained, even giving him a small smile. “It’s nothing personal. It does give us the younger ones more work, though, hence why I couldn’t write.”

With your explanation, Hyunjin then smiled. “Oh, oh, I see.” He muses. “Then, I’m glad we meet again after a long time! I really was starting to worry you were taking longer to reply!”

“Well, we’ll be staying here for two weeks—that should be enough time to catch up.” You then matched your smile with his, following him to the palace gardens when he offers you to, ‘for old time’s sake’ he reasoned. “Then at the end of the week, we get to attend a wedding! Honestly, I’m really excited, I’ve only ever seen weddings from afar when my aunt would perform rituals for good weather.”

“Then you’ll be in for a great time! Weddings are absolutely lovely, especially here in court!” He promised you that afternoon before proceeding to recall to you the countless weddings that have happened within the confines of the palace courts in his life.

Only, the wedding somehow ended in catastrophe when the day actually came because of a group of hired assassins who managed to get to nearly every one of the royal family in attendance including Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin!” You cried for him amidst the stampede and the fire that has somehow started from one of the guest tables, Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong tugging you in the opposite direction by your arms and waist waist and preventing you from running back to his bloodied body. “Hyunjin!”

“Y/N, no, we have to leave!” Chaeryeong scolded you countless of times that night, tears streaming down her own face in fear as your mothers and aunts ushered your entire coven to retreat back to the woods. “We have to go!”

“B-But Hyunjin!” You insisted in between sobs every single time, your attempts at escaping your cousins’ grasps becoming weaker and weaker until they eventually managed to reunite you with the rest of your coven after. “We can still save him—I can save him! He’s still conscious, for God’s sake!”

Hyunjin received two fatal stab wounds to his chest and stomach that night as one of the assassins’ last few victims before fleeing because of the fire, pushing him on his stomach to the ground in his own pool of blood. Even with the fear and panic coursing through your veins and your blurry vision as you navigated your way through the chaos, you knew that you could heal him quickly with the right enchantments and potions and that you could carry him with you all the way to the forest where your needed herbs could possibly be available but your cousins wouldn’t listen to you, forcing you to abandon your friend that night for your own sake.

You remember vividly, even to this day, this particular image of Hyunjin seemingly dying on the ground, eyes pleading you to follow your cousins as he clutched his chest and choked on his own blood, because it still gives you nightmares every night despite the assurance that he was eventually saved. Hyunjin laughs at you over this now but whenever you would scowl and hit him in the arm for making it seem as if he thinks of his human death as a joke, he would immediately pull you into his embrace and apologize.

“I’m sorry.” He always whispers in your ear at present, stroking your hair and hugging you significantly tighter each time. “It’s just that it’s all in the past now and I’ve let it go way back. I just hope you do too because I’m still here—and I’ll always be.”

“I don’t think I can—not in a hundred more years, I think.” You would frown in response, also recently acquiring the habit of gathering fistfuls of his shirt in the process. “It’s too—it’s too—“

“I understand. Shh. I’m sorry, again...”

nine

In the event that a family member turns twenty-one, your entire extended family gathers to perform a ritual on the full moon after their date of birth in order to grant them immortality which can only be broken by willful death. It was an ancient and seemingly controversial tradition unique to your family, the elder generations were close and wanted to be close with everyone in this fashion.

When you were younger, with your innocent sense of adventure, you’ve always looked forward to being the recipient of this particular ritual at the thought that it would give you more time to explore both in and, hopefully, out of Korea. But when it came to the first full moon after your twenty-first birthday, you felt nothing but dread throughout the entire night.

“I just think it’s meaningless!” You cried into Chaeryeong’s shoulder once you’ve managed to return to your lodgings, pulling your knees closer to your chest as the two of you sat in your bed. “Why should I continue living when I have nothing to look forward to anymore? When someone else deserved to live?”

Chaeryeong still feels guilty about it even at present, often apologizing to Hyunjin whenever she would come across him, but she felt this feeling the heaviest in this moment hundreds if years ago as she stroked your back comfortingly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N...I know anything I can say right now wouldn’t make you feel better or make what happened right but I’m so sorry. It was you or him and Chaeyeon and I had to make a choice.”

“But w-we could’ve—we could’ve s-saved him!”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry...”

“Hyunjin, my best friend—“ You sobbed until morning despite Chaeryeong’s pleas for you to sleep. “My Hyunjin, he’s gone because of me.”

And until morning, Chaeryeong kept an eye out for you in case you did something to yourself as you mourned. “None of it was your fault. If anything, it was mine.” She told you over and over again until you fell asleep at sunrise. “Y/N, please...”

Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon ended up watching over you closely for the two months that followed, wary of your actions until you confronted them again about it and assured them that you weren’t thinking about doing something else that could potentially harm you.

You then completely parted ways with them after.

eighty-eight

You have already travelled the entirety of Korea on your own once when you unexpectedly meet Hyunjin again. Eighty-one years after his supposed death and with a new king already on the throne, you‘ve almost forgotten all about your childhood best friend because of the passing time that it completely startled you when you saw a glimpse of his face in the crowd of a village somewhere in Pyongyang.

He smiled at you from afar in the brief second your eyes first met, even subtly tipping his hat as he walked towards you from the opposite direction which effectively froze you in the middle of the street.

Shaking your head in thought, you frowned and look away at the seemingly random remembrance of the past. You’ve always thought then that you’ve already forgotten most of your childhood, especially those that ended in tragedy, and so you instantly felt a wave of disappointment in yourself at suddenly seeing a familiar face of the past in the crowd.

But when you looked up and see that Hyunjin has already reached you on your spot, your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes began to sting in the moment as tears threatened to fall at the sight of seeing your best friend’s smile again in person. You then instinctively held out a hand to touch his hanbok. “Y-You—y-you’re—“

“I-I’m alive...” He stammered out almost in the same fashion as you, his grin only growing bigger after the longer you stood frozen in front of him. When you don’t respond immediately in prolonged shock, he then lifted you up in a hug, planting your feet right on top of his this time as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. “I missed you, very, very much. I thought I’d never see you again.”

It took you a long moment to hug him back, making some passersby look. “I thought I—I thought that I’d never see you again.” You reply once you find your voice again, warily lifting your hands up to his shoulders as if he might disappear. “How are you—h-how are you alive?”

Pulling away briefly to examine his face, you then added, “A-and you look the same...”

At first, Hyunjin only shook his head at you, still overwhelmed at finally seeing you again to care about explaining. “I’ll, uh, I’ll explain everything later.” He whispered to you, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes as he sighs in relief. “Please, just...let me hold you for now.”

After this scene in public, Hyunjin then took you to the lodgings where he was staying at with his friend, Seungmin, whom you would eventually came to realize was the vampire who saved him that night along with the fact that your best friend was now a vampire himself. “I was passing by the palace grounds on the way to a safe passage to the next village.” Seungmin elaborated further on Hyunjin’s story over a cup of tea and buckets of crying. “When I saw the fire, I got curious and approached then I saw Hyunjin trying to crawl out to safety so I helped him up, took him to the forest, and turned him.”

Seungmin would also tell you much later on, when you meet again by chance centuries later in 1930s Thailand, that he also didn’t know first-aid at the time so his immediate alternative was to turn Hyunjin in panic, having seen another friend of his, Chan, do it in a similar extreme emergency situation. Hyunjin also laughs at this at present, especially when he first found out, and you’d let yourself giggle occasionally but you always make sure to thank him sincerely after, even when he always assures you that it’s nothing. “You helped me reunite with my best friend.” You would tell him, your voice always low enough so only Seungmin would hear even with Hyunjin’s enhanced hearing. “You didn’t just saved him that night, you saved me too—just eighty-one years later—so thank you.”

And so, you ended up travelling with the two for almost a hundred and fifty years, eventually meeting Seungmin’s other nomadic friends while helping Hyunjin adjust better to his new lifestyle and developing skills. You only had to forcibly part ways after because your mother sent you a letter all the way from Xinjiang, China, requesting for your presence at a family member’s funeral.

“The mourning period for our family is is fifty years,” You explained to the two on the morning you had to leave them. You were staying in Beijing during this time in 1657. “and she was my mother’s favourite sister, I have to be there for her, especially.”

Hyunjin had a slight frown in his face until you left on a horse-drawn carriage that day but he straightened it out into a thin line and pursed his lips once: when he came to hug you goodbye as you were packing, wrapping his arms around your waist in a back hug. “Write to me, please?” He pleaded over your shoulder. “If we really have to be apart again for a long time, then at least write to me.”

You nodded at his request, swiftly turning around to prperly hug him back. “I will, promise, just tell me where you’ll be next.” You instructed him, pulling away after to hug Seungmin goodbye. “Please take good care of yourselves and always be careful.”

“We will.” Seungmin assures you sincerely, having grown fond of you in a familial way over the years. “You take care, too.”

“I’ll see you again very soon!”

Hyunjin received a letter from you almost two months later, thus beginning your hundred years long correspondence.

three-hundred eighty-eight

When the fifty-year mourning period for your family ended, your mother asked you to stay with her longer, prompting you to write to Hyunjin that you’ll have to extend your time away before being free to meet him again. Simultaneously, Hyunjin began writing to you about his and Seungmin’s adventures with Chan, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin around Asia, especially the possibility of him and his friends of the same nature forming a coven amongst themselves and how he had somewhat developed a vampiric gift, the latter of which he couldn’t write to you about explicitly until you accidentally met again in person a month before your extended stay was over.

Well, you’re still not sure at present if you really did meet in person at the time because, besides some subtle inaccuracies in the memory itself, there would be times at present when Hyunjin would insist that you did and times when he would deny it completely in embarrassment. “You know, maybe you were just fever dreaming me up, then!” Hyunjin would tell you now whenever he feels like denying it as a slight blush creeps up his cheeks, coughing awkwardly in between and making sure to run as far away from you as possible. “Or maybe—ha!—did you have a crush on me as early as the 1600s? You know, they do say that distance makes the heart grow fonde—ow!”

But dream or not, this memory is still burned at the very back of your head even hundreds of years later and it’s embarrassingly awful that all of your telepath and clairvoyant friends either joke or complain to you about it from seeing fragments of it replay in your thoughts often.

In this memory, you met Hyunjin in your house at Xinjiang while your mother was away to run errands. You consider this as one of your biggest hints that this was a dream since Hyunjin and his friends were in Laos until you met with them halfway later on along with the fact that he appeared in your bedroom of all places when you have long made it a habit of placing all kinds of protective charms in this particular space of yours.

“H-Hyunjin?” You called out for him when you saw his reflection in the mirror as you worked on your desk, glancing over your shoulder with a fond smile on his lips. Turning around, you then jumped up from your seat and right into his arms, laughing in disbelief when you felt him encircle his arms around your waist. “Hyunjin! When did you get here? How did you get here? I thought you’re in—”

His laugh that followed still echoes at the back of your head occasionally, even more the feeling of his lips pressing a feathery kiss on the fabric draped over your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, I’m here.” He dismissed with a sigh, pulling away from the hug after in order to gently cup your face in his hands. Tilting his head down slightly to level with your eyes, a smirk then formed on his lips as he studied your features carefully and added, “I missed you. You look even more beautiful than when we last met.”

Hyunjin insists that you’re exaggerating this part but his closest friend and current roommate, Jeongin, is a mind reader and the poor boy accidentally sees through your thoughts that it isn’t every time he brings it up, making everyone in the vicinity feel awkward and embarrassed. It also doesn’t help that, in this memory, you’re quite sure that Hyunjin surprised you with a kiss after, urgently crashing his lips onto yours and backing you up to your desk.

You always make sure to keep it in a part in your thoughts that Jeongin can’t read but, besides your genuine shock, you initially didn’t pull away from the kiss because of the feeling that the gesture somehow affirmed your previous doubts on your almost four hundred years-worth of feelings for your best friend. You didn’t kiss him back with as much force as he did, even when he almost drew blood from biting your bottom lip or when he smoothly slipped his tongue in your mouth as his hands took hold of yours on the sides of the desk, but you thought a lot about him in the moment—mostly about how you were questioning your feelings for him prior to when he appeared out of nowhere.

It also definitely didn’t help that he kept whispering ‘I missed you so much’ in between gasps of air too. It still makes your heart melt to this day (and Jeongin disgusted whenever he passes by you and accidentally hears your thoughts. “Can you two please just stop being horny over each other all the time? It’s been 700 years.” “Yang Jeongin, get back here!”)

You realized, as Hyunjin moved to trail desperate kisses down your neck, that maybe you did have a crush on your best friend and it was okay even if it was just because of the longing to see him after years or the loneliness of eternal life. You liked him a lot, maybe you even loved him as early as this moment you’re not even sure anymore but you’ve always been certain from that this very moment, you never wanted to be apart from him for too long.

But it still scared you after a while, even when you already felt assured over your previous qualms, and you unknowingly pushed him away because of this, right as he tugged on your clothes and snaked a hand up your dress. “Hyunjin, stop!” In a wave of fear, you pushed him away with an enchantment, making him fly all the way across the room until his back hit the opposite wall. “S-Shit, I’m so sorry, I—“

In response, you remember him shaking his head reassuringly. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” He assures you, his voice just barely above a whisper. “It’s just that I—nevermind, I should be sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N...”

Before you could even say anything else, however, he vanished into thin air right in front of you, leaving you even more confused than before.

When you do actually meet Hyunjin and the others a month later, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it somehow even when you were quick to notice that he was avoiding you after Minho proudly boasted to you that he started training Hyunjin to navigate other people’s dreams. Besides the fact that it made heat rise up to your face alarmingly that Changbin started joking about you trying to lure all vampires within the vicinity into sucking your neck dry, you also didn’t know how to approach Hyunjin in the case that you had to inevitably tell him your feelings. Though you had a clearer idea of your feelings then, you still weren’t ready to confess it to him yet.

So, reluctantly, you had to part ways again because of this, you coming up with a lame excuse to see your cousins all the way in Europe at the thought that you wanted to think your feelings through again while also giving Hyunjin his much needed space. You ended up leaving the group in 1763 somewhere in Shanghai, a hundred and nineteen years after the incident.

“Ah, I don’t think I’m suited for the coven life anymore.” You pointed out awkwardly at Hyunjin as you hugged him last at the ports. “It’s just—not the same, I guess. I think I have to travel on my own for a while...”

Even with the awkwardness, Hyunjin still hugged you tightly anyway and even planted a familiar kiss to your shoulder. “Write to me again, okay?”

“Always.” You assured through the frantic beating of your heart. You notice him catching your hand in between the two of you when you pull away from the hug, almost rendering you speechless. “I’ll see you when I see you. It’s just goodbye for now.”

Jeongin once spilled to you one day that of all the similar situations after that Hyunjin has let you go after seeing you again, he always thinks about this one in particular the most and how he should’ve asked for you to stay; and you hit the younger boy with one of your books in response for snooping. But still, it has also made you start wondering lately if things would’ve changed if you parted ways differently then.

“Yes, it’s goodbye for now.”

four hundred ninety-nine

The next two hundred and four years would then be spent in an unconscious game of cat and mouse between you and Hyunjin. Whenever Chan and Minho would let him, he would follow you by your letters around Europe and Africa and he would more often than not miss the opportunity of approaching. When he did manage to catch up with you, you would go to lunch with him and show him around the place you’re staying at until the tension eventually died off as you occupied yourselves with other things.

Hyunjin first saw you again in Crete in 1818 when you started to learn foreign forms of witchcraft, missing the chance to approach you only because you disappeared from his watch because he chickened out last minute from recalling your previous incident in his mind. He would then see you again in 1825 Austria, studying the stars with Chaeryeong and a friend, Yuna, until he missed you by a boat ride to Egypt, then again in 1861 Congo when he would got in the wrong carriage and somehow ended up in in Algeria.

You eventually noticed, of course, how his return addresses seemed to pattern yours but you never brought it up until you he first caught up with you in 1884 Spain, when you went to the same art exhibit and ended up talking for hours until the tensions from almost a hundred years before completely vanished. “Are you following me?” You asked him teasingly mid-conversation as the two of you observed the Spolarium. “You have accumulated wealth from 400 years and you spend it by following me?”

Hyunjin froze instinctively, an easy giveaway from him in your years of knowing each other. “What? No! I’m just—ya, you’re not the only one who can like travelling!” He quickly denied until you giggled in amusement, making him confess everything truthfully later on over lunch.

You then ended up dedicating two hours to recounting all the times you almost met, laughing at almost every one of them because of Hyunjin’s undeniable clumsiness. By the end of his tales, he’s pouting at all your teasing in defeat as he asked, “Can’t you really live with us again? We’ve all moved back in Korea, you know—well, except Seungmin since he’s back in his trying to get all kinds of educational degrees in the world phase again.”

You didn’t want to admit it to him then up until now but you’ve thought about the exact same thing countless of times in your travels. Learning new skills and travelling the world has always been something you thoroughly enjoyed, you are a traveler after all, but you also couldn’t deny that you’d miss seeing Hyunjin more than anyone else you’ve met in your whole lifetime.

Without you knowing, you’ve realized that somewhere in between the correspondences you’ve managed throughout the centuries and the frequent meetings around the world, you’ve completely fallen in love with your best friend. You were sure of it then.

However, before you parted ways again three years later to head further West while Hyunjin had to hurry back East for sneaking out from Minho this time, you answered his question with, “Let me think about it.”

And, surprisingly, he understood. When you wrote to him from Brazil six months later, he replies with a long letter detailing his adventures halfway across the world in New Zealand as well as Middlemist’s Reds pressed in between the papers—one you would scold him later on once you found out that they were extremely rare.

“Where did you put those rare New Zealand flowers, by the way?” Hyunjin asked you just last week, almost as if he remembered at the same time as you.

“It’s somewhere.” You mused absentmindedly over your cup of coffee, hand instinctively going up to fiddle with the pearls on your ears where you discreetly hid the flowers.

six-hundred eleven

When you met Seungmin by chance in 1930s Thailand, you immediately asked him about one of the earliest models of the 35 mm film he acquired from his own travels and the photos he took. Since Hyunjin was in California with Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix while Chan, Minho, and Changbin stayed behind in Korea, Seungmin showed you how the film worked by letting you see the photographs he took of your friends, especially Jeongin and Felix who were still new to their family at the time but you’ve immediately welcomed as your little brothers. The photographs mostly depicted them candidly in their day-to-day and though you have countless of similar photos now in your own smartphone, you couldn’t help but tear up at seeing these photos in particular at the time.

“Hey, don’t stain my photos now, the film’s expensive.” Seungmin chuckled as he patted your shoulders comfortingly with one hand while the other took the photos from your side of the table. “What’s wrong?”

You sobbed into his shoulder that afternoon, attracting the attention of some passersby at the restaurant you had breakfast together at. “I-I, uh—I missed everyone.” You told him, the first time you ever confided in someone else these very thoughts. Not even Chaeryeong, whom you would stay with every five years or so, knew this. “It’s just—it’s so lonely now and I...I love travelling but it just feels empty now—”

“Then come home. Come home when you think you’re ready, we’ll all be waiting for you—Hyunjin will be waiting for you.” Seungmin finished your thought for you gently, momentarily removing his hand from your shoulder to separate Hyunjin’s photos from the pile. Passing them to you again, he then adds, “If it makes you feel better, you can keep his photos if you want but for a little request.”

You then left Thailand to live with your mother in India four years later with Hyunjin’s photographs tucked neatly in the pages between his letters you’ve collected over the years in an enchantment pouch, acquiring them from Seungmin in exchange for photographs of you he would pass on to Hyunjin later on.

Along with the other photographs you would collect of Hyunjin and your other family and friends, these particular photos now line up almost all walls of your apartment in Seoul.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, though you’ve never confronted him about it, keeps your photos in his wallets and at the back of his clear phone case. Every time someone from the art gallery where he works in would ask him about it, he would always say that he DIY-ed them with his grandparents’ film and a coffee staining technique he got from YouTube.

six-hundred forty-eight

Your mother willfully passed away in 1967 by ingesting a concoction of poisonous herbs you reluctantly helped her make. She was 2,022 years old and surrounded by all of her daughters in her deathbed on that fateful Sunday morning—some of whom you’ve only met when you came to live with your mother again. Your relatives then came a week later for another 50 years of mourning and, as one of the elder daughters, you were tasked in helping cater to everyone in the time that you had to be secluded from the world in old rituals and traditions; thus, halting yet another plan of reuniting with Hyunjin.

It impacted you greater this time, not only because your mother was the one who passed away but also because you’ve already planned on returning permanently to Korea and reunite with Hyunjin this time. After six hundred years, you’ve finally sorted out your feelings for your best friend and fifty more years of being apart suddenly felt too long with this.

And, as if he had read your thoughts, Hyunjin visited you in your dreams on the night before you would enter into the fifty-year mourning period. Having gained more experience in honing this gift of his by this time, he somehow managed to fashion your dreams into happening against the backdrop of the familiar 1300s Korean landscape.

You dreamt of approaching Hyunjin at a flower stall in front of a marketplace akin to when you actually first met. Instead of having his back turned to you to pick on the carnations, however, he was waving at you with his arms outstretched for a hug, hanbok and everything.

“How did you do all this?” You asked in disbelief as you hugged him back, taking in all the detailed scenery from his shoulder. You knew that, in the real world, he was back in Korea by this time and helping Seungmin set up his own film company, easily giving away the dream nature of your meeting. Still, you touched all of the flowers and the fabric of his favorite red hanbok anyway, marveling at how his gift has grown since the last and only other time you experienced it.

“Lots of practice.” He shrugged with a proud grin, reluctantly letting you go after to take a good look at you. “I didn’t do anything weird to practice though, I mostly just terrorized Jisung in his dreams.”

You scoffed at him, hitting his chest playfully. Looking around again and even chuckling at how your dream was even filled with people, you then commented, “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you needed some cheering up after what happened with your mom.” He explained, picking up a handful of carnations from the stall. Passing them to you, you were quick to notice how he didn’t let go of your hand after, prompting you to encourage him by lacing your fingers together. “I’m so sorry again. I’m sorry I can’t be with you right now, too.”

“It’s okay.” You assured him with a shake of your head, mustering up a smile. “Just reading your e-mails and receiving your photos were already comforting for me.”

"I can hop on a plane right now, if you need me.” He offers only to receive more assurance from you otherwise. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand after. “I’m sure just...let me dream with you right now.” You confirmed, earning you an understanding nod from him. Smiling at this, you then asked, “So, what do you have for me here?”

Hyunjin then led you around your dream for the entire night, happily taking you to places you frequented when you were still children. You ran around the palace grounds, recounted village stories, ate popular foods of your time period, and laid in the grass of the palace gardens until you had to leave for an early start of your day when you suddenly felt someone shaking you awake from the physical world.

Reluctantly, you parted ways at the marketplace at the end of your dream.

“See you in 50 years?” He smiled sadly at you as you bid your goodbyes, awkwardly standing in front of you with his hands on his back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded with a hum, a stray tear suddenly finding its way down your cheek. “I’ll come home in 50 years, I promise.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at this, his mouth hanging agape as he stuttered, “W-Wha—?”

Before he could even coherently form his thoughts, however, you’ve already reached up to his cheek for a kiss before disappearing, leaving him alone in his own thoughts.

Before you could enter isolation with the rest of your family in the morning that followed, you then made sure to e-mail Chan and Seungmin instructions to arrange your flight back to Korea in 50 years, asking them to not tell Hyunjin towards the end of your long message.

six hundred ninety-eight

You returned to Korea on February 18, 2017 just as Chan and Seungmin have arranged for you, moving into one of Minho’s old apartment buildings where you still live at present. Following their further instructions, you then spent a whole month visiting all of your friends in their respective homes all around Korea (even Jeongin whom you met right under Hyunjin’s nose by visiting him in their home while his roommate was away for work) with your money you’ve entrusted Changbin to manage for you until you returned. You made sure to meet Hyunjin last, timing your reunion right on his 719th birthday.

Your closer group of friends threw him a surprise party in Gangnam on this year, renting an entire hotel building for yourselves and your other friends from all around the world. When you met Hyunjin that night, you had helped Felix bake and deliver his seven-tiered birthday cake for him, casting a spell on the candles so that they would explode in colorful fireworks and dust sprinkles all over the red velvet cake before they eventually fade. You eventually made your presence known to him when Jisung and Minho turned off the lights to the halls as he made a wish, standing next to him when he opened his eyes.

“Happy birthday!” You greeted him with a sheepish smile, laughing nervously when he jumped back in surprise.

Hyunjin, however, quickly recovered from his initial shock and lifted you up the ground easily, moving the two of you away from the cake so he could spin you around twice in a hug. “You’re here!” He exclaimed happily to your shoulders before putting you down, hugging you even tighter now that you’re stationary. “You came!”

“I’ve actually been here for a month.” You confessed bluntly, hugging him back by his shoulders. Your friends all cooed and gushed around you, eliciting heat to rise up your neck again (especially when Seungmin took out his camera to take photos) but Hyunjin only moves you away from everyone, still hugging you close. “I, uh, I moved in Minho’s old penthouse and everything. I’m staying this time.”

At your last revelation, only then did Hyunjin pulled away from you, his hands moving down to your elbows as his eyes widened in disbelief. “R-Really? You’re staying this time?”

“Permanently.” You answered with a smile, chuckling when he releases a relieved sigh and turns to everyone, happily telling them of your plans to stay. “I told you I was coming home.”

“That was what you meant?” He repeated, earning him a nod from you. With that, he then hugged you again. “I’m glad...finally.”

You then spent the rest of the night catching up with everyone at the party but most especially the birthday celebrant himself whom you couldn’t seem to get off of your side throughout most of the night. You ate, drank, sang, and danced with until early morning, until Hyunjin pulled you away from the naturally dying festivities to watch the sunrise with him at the rooftop.

“I wondered why you’ve rarely replied to my messages on social media lately.” He frowned at you once you’ve reached the rooftop, settling on a random bench with the perfect view of the rising sun. “You could’ve told me you already arrived! I wanted to show you the gallery I’m working in these days!”

“I’m still getting used to social media!” You defended yourself with a chuckle, pinching his cheeks and pulling them up to a smile which immediately makes Hyunjin laugh. “And I wanted to surprise you! I planned it with Chan and Seungmin 50 years ago—actually, even way back with Seungmin when we met in the 30s.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you with this. “Hm? You did?”

“You remember when Seungmin and I met in Thailand in the 30s?” You asked, Hyunjin nodding along in response. “Before we exchanged our photos, he sort of talked me into it. I figured that I was getting tired of travelling for a really long time and he assured me that I can come home when I want to...that I can come home to you and everyone else...”

Next to you, Hyunjin smiled as you spoke, the side of his face glowing faintly in the oranges and pinks of the early sunlight as he sat with his body turned completely to you. When you trail off with your words, he then muses, “Yeah, you can always come home to me...I missed you so much.”

“You always say that whenever we reunite.” You point out without any hint of malice in your tone, pulling your legs up to the bench and pressing them close to your chest.

“Don’t you miss me too?” He frowned teasingly, poking you on your sides.

“Of course, I missed you too. I missed you everyday when we’re apart.” You assured, shrugging. “It’s just...”

When you turn to Hyunjin, your eyes widened when you realized that he has leaned in closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours when you finally meet his gaze again. “Can I confess something?”

Speechless, you could only muster a weak nod then.

“I’ve always missed you, even from when you first left me when we were younger because I’ve loved you even then.” He whispered just inches away from your lips. “I’ve loved you and waited for you for almost seven hundred years.”

You thought he’d kiss you after his declaration but he only looked up at you in anticipation after, as if he was expecting you to say something. Caught off-guard, you let a brief pause pass by first before replying, “I-If you’ve always had, then why did you let me go each time?”

“Because you’ve always been a traveler.” He answered, slowly closing his eyes and leaning in again. At this point, it felt as if he was only waiting on you to lean in on your own accord, the realization knocking out the air in your lungs. “And I’ve always hoped that you’d come back to me forever when you wanted to, if you wanted to—and now here we are.”

“Here we are.” You repeated slowly, finally closing the small gap between the two of you with your hands going up to his hair.

Unlike when Hyunjin first kissed you centuries before when you were still unsure of your feelings, this particular kiss was slow and almost feathery against your lips but somehow it also felt similarly urgent and heavy, bearing all of your hidden emotions of seven hundred years. Hyunjin only deepened the kiss when you whispered ‘I love you’ to him when you first pulled away to catch your breath, smiling uncontrollably when you kissed him again.

“I love you too.” He replies when you have to catch your breath again, pulling away completely this time so he can gaze down at you fondly with his hand on your cheek never leaving your side to pat your head affectionately. “Always.”

Hyunjin didn’t ask you to be his significant other afterward, not even when he took you home, but you both agree that there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that day, especially when he didn’t leave immediately after dropping you off, preferring instead to trap you in between himself and the back of your front door while peppering kisses all over your face.

“Still not cool, though.” Jisung teases every now and then at present, making Hyunjin roll his eyes every time. “You could’ve at least been a little more romantic with a confession or something! You’re from the 1300s, for crying out loud! Didn’t you guys court people and stuff?!”

“But we’re in 2020 now.” Hyunjin has resorted to replying to this lately, even doing as much as chucking something at the younger boy (often Seungmin’s baseball bat for some reason). “Anyway, I’ve known Y/N for 700 years. It’d be even more uncool when you say you’ve pined over each other for 700 years and have only been dating for a year.”

“Yeah so better start now than never, ri—ow, Y/N! I’m trying to defend you and you hit me with a pan?!”

Without anyone knowing, however, Hyunjin did formally asked you to be his significant other when the summer came, sending you all of your letters for him by the traditional post. The delivery man looked at you weirdly when he arrived at your doorstep, there were seven boxes full of old all kinds of envelopes and bundles of papers after all, but you only smiled sheepishly at him and tipped him extra.

“Ya, why did you send me all of your letters?” You feigned complaint at Hyunjin once he arrived at your place and successfully helped you getting all the boxes in your living room. “The shipping company probably thinks I’m stealing museum artifacts right under their noses or something.”

“I thought it’d be cute to do send it traditionally!” He pouted before pulling you down on your sofa next to him and opening the first box. “I didn’t even know it was gonna arrive today!”

“What are we doing with all these anyway?” You asked, carefully picking up a random envelope. “You know some of these could break from the air, it doesn’t take a Chemist or a Curator to know that.”

“Ah, yes, but I did got these scanned on a hard drive in case they do break! We have to keep up with the times, Y/N! I’m going to have to scan yours one of these days.” Hyunjin grinned proudly as he swiftly swapped your envelope for the chronologically correct one. “Now, we’re going to look through these letters in the right order!”

As it turns out, Hyunjin had hidden his original unsent letters in between the letters you gave him, reading them aloud to you and using them to ask you to be his significant other. “We could’ve been dating ages ago!” He commented playfully in between the more intimate ones, giggling when you frowned or tear up in response. “Ah, Y/N, don’t cry please! Shh, it’s okay, baby, I’m reading these to you just how much I love you, okay? Don’t cry...”

“T-That’s exactly why I’m c-crying!”

“So, does that mean, you’re, you know, you’re saying—”

“You didn’t even have to go through all this trouble!”

Hyunjin still teases you for crying then, mostly because he feels proud that you think he outdid Changbin’s lavish proposal to his fiancé in the Maldives with this gesture.

seven hundred one

Though most of Hyunjin’s family of vampires have had and/or currently have their own history of relationships, Changbin is the first of Hyunjin’s coven who announced plans of getting married. His fiancé, Haseul, insisted; something about having waited 900 years because they weren’t ‘as lucky as some people.’

You know she’s subtly hinting at you, even going as far as winking at you from across the room when she repeated the words at rehearsal dinner earlier this evening, but you only rolled your eyes at her playfully, dismissing the thought.

“Why did you even sleep for 900 years? I still don’t understand.” You asked her after once you’ve gotten her alone, sharing a bottle of champagne on the side of the dance floor while giggling at Jeongin and his date trying to out-fluster each other on the dance floor. The DJ Chan hired has long shifted the songs from lively EDM tracks to slower love songs so, with everyone assuming that her and Changbin are busy dancing together, no one would bother the two of you for a while.

Haseul only shook her head as she chugged down champagne straight from the bottle, making you wonder if older vampires really just act as casual as she and Changbin do by default. “It’s really complicated stuff, the practice probably died down when you were born.” She waved her hands frantically in front of you, pretending to stumble after and laughing when you don’t fall for it. You’ve had enough experience living with the boys to know that vampires don’t get drunk with alcohol. “Anyway, that’s not the point! Point is, don’t wait for a sorcerer to curse you with ancient blood magic and make you sleep for 900 years before you decide on taking a big leap in a relationship like getting married! Do it now, especially now while wedding fashion still looks cute!”

You only pouted at her, taking the bottle from her hands and refilling your glass. “You know how I feel about weddings.” You pointed out in a smaller voice, effectively turning her teasing smile into a serious thin line. “And it’s not like we actually need weddings. It’s just an old ceremony that doesn’t even hold up much for us since we’ll be spending the rest of forever with each other, anyway.”

“Yeah, but...you know...” Haseul opened her mouth to counter your argument before pursing her lips at seeing your now downcast expression. “...Sorry, I...that was insensitive of me.”

You glanced over at her for a moment, furrowing your eyebrows before mustering up a reassuring smile and a shake of your head. “I—no, it’s fine. It’s just—I respect weddings for people who want them...I think I might even want them for myself if things from the past didn’t turn out the way they did. Because of that, I don’t think I’ll be in one myself...maybe if Hyunjin wants to but I don’t know how he feels about marriage or how he feels with how I feel about it...does that make sense?”

Haseul really wanted to tell you right there and then that Hyunjin personally asked her to ask you about it in exchange for him to tone down his groomsman’s speech at the wedding next week. Instead, she only slung a comforting arm over your shoulder. “I get what you mean. I wasn’t sure about how to bring up marriage to Changbin at first, too—being in a relationship even when I woke up a century ago.” She comforted you with a lighthearted chuckle towards the end, rubbing small circles on your shoulder blades. “But whatever you and Hyunjin decide to do together, I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.”

But still, the thought lingered at the back of your mind for the rest of the night, especially when Hyunjin asked you to dance later on.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you curiously once you’re facing him again after twirling you once. “You know you’ve had that same thinking look since you and Haseul started drinking champagne. What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him from your daze, eyes widening momentarily as you processed his words. When you regain composure, you shake your head and answer, “N-Nothing, I’m just, a bit sleepy.”

Hyunjin frowned slightly, slowing your movements. “Must be the punch, I knew we shouldn’t have let Felix put in that weird blood mix on it.”

“There’s blood on the punch?”

“Type AB, I think—”

“—What? Gross!” You scrunched up your nose in disgust, making Hyunjin laugh.

“I was just kidding, at least now you’re awake!” He pointed out in between laughter before going back to being serious. “But seriously, what’s wrong?”

You took a moment to respond, eventually settling for a sigh. “Haseul just talked to me about marriage...”

“Oh.” Hyunjin mused out loud and you’re quick to observe the way his expression falters ever so slightly, as if expecting the worse out of your next words. “What did she say?”

“She just told me again how marriage and other ‘big leaps in relationships’ need to be timed correctly or something.” You answered, pursing your lips in between. “So I told her that yeah, I agree, but I don’t know how I feel about it on a personal level.”

Hyunjin’s gaze then softened from the corner of your eyes. “Is it because of what happened before?” He asked carefully, tucking the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

“A bit, yeah.” You nodded. “But if you’re—i-if you think otherwise, if you want to get married or something, then I’ll be okay.”

“I’m only following you, Y/N.” He reminded you, halting the two of you from dancing altogether as he becomes much more sincere with his words. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll follow.”

You smiled up at him appreciatively, lacing your fingers with his in between the two of you. “I was hoping it’d be the other way around, you know how indesicive I could be sometimes.”

“But do you want to get married?” He asked nervously after, slowly inching the two of you away from the dance floor now and into a quieter area on the sides of the hall. “Or...anything of the sort?”

“Maybe...I don’t know...” You frowned, more to yourself in frustration.

But Hyunjin only nodded in understanding, patting your head before pressing a kiss to your temple affectionately. “It’s okay, I understand. Don’t beat yourself too much over it, okay?”

Now, a week later, while you and Hyunjin were spending the Saturday afternoon in his bed, he suddenly pulls you on top of him so you’re laying on top of his chest, taking out a single blue chrysanthemum from his bedside table. “I bought this last week and asked Jeongin’s new friend to preserve it with an enchantment.” He hurriedly explains before you could even scold him for suffocating a flower inside the drawers of his bedside table. “Hear me out first.”

“What’s this for all of sudden?” You ask curiously, taking the flower and picking on the petals as Hyunjin then lifts you up with him while sitting up straight, moving you to straddle his lap.

“I’ve just been thinking...mostly about what Haseul said.” He explains, his hand then moving over to something else in his bedside drawer. “...and, of course, she has a point, I’d take someone’s word for it especially if they’ve been asleep for a huge chunk of the years humans have been on Earth but I also know that we’re a little different from her and Changbin because of what happened in the past.”

You’re immediately rendered speechless from the very start of his speech, even more when he finally finds the velvet box in his bedside drawer. Opening it in between the two of you, you wanted to laugh at the way an extra copy of the keys to his new apartment peeks out from the cushions supporting the main purpose of the box, a ring with a simple round cut diamond and two sapphires, but you end up crying first before chuckling, easing Hyunjin’s own nerves.

“Is the key really that visible? I thought I hid that pretty well when Changbin and I picked this up.” Hyunjin pouts, briefly turning the box in his direction to examine it properly and take the key out before directing it to you once again with a chuckle. “Anyway, as I was saying, marriage is cool and all but it’s not like one of us is being chased by a psycho sorcerer like Haseul so we can definitely take our time if we eventually want to.”

“But still, a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt so...will you move in with me?—or just wear the ring, come over more often, and maybe tell me you love me more than you usually do; that’s also fine.”

You hit him on his shoulder with a laugh, making him lean his head back in laughter too at his own silliness. “You really aren’t that romantic when it actually comes down to it, Jisung was sort of right.” You muse out loud, taking out the key from the cushions.

“Ya!” He protests, taking your hand anyway and sliding the ring on your finger. “If it was still the 1300s, I would’ve had to ask people’s approval, carved ducks, and everything and it would’ve taken forever! It’s been 700 years so cut me some slack here!”

Still, no matter how much you laugh after, you say yes anyway but not without making him promise that he’ll re-do his ‘proposal’ again so Jisung would stop roasting him about it.

“I will, I will,” He assures dismissively, pulling you in for a kiss. “when you’re actually ready to marry...or say cheesy vows in front of everyone, whichever you prefer.”

“That’s going to take 700 more years.” You joke against his lips with a giggle, making him scrunch up his nose in disapproval.

“Fine, I guess I can wait a little more.”

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sroloc--elbisivni · 2 years

Text

Prompts open until 2022

I announced this on the last chapter of Definitionless in this strict atmosphere that went up today, (!!!!!!) but to say it again and for anyone here who likes my writing but doesn’t care about Transformers: **I am opening prompts until January 1, 2022. I will make an effort, within reason, to respond to any prompt I get for the rest of the year. **

They can be for scenes from another perspective, or missing scenes from, or future timestamps of fics I’ve already written. I’m even putting a moratorium on my no-responding-to-sequel-requests rule.

They can be for any fandom I’ve written for, or ones I haven’t but you know I know about.

They can be for ‘things I mentioned one time and never elaborated on’ or completely new ideas.

They can be for single words and a ship, song lyrics and a fandom, completely original snippets, character dynamics, whatever. Anything goes. If it really squicks me out, I just won’t fill it, but for pretty much any request (assuming good faith) I’ll give it a shot.

All I ask is that if I ask you to narrow something down, please do! otherwise I’ll take a wild guess, but I like specificity.

Why I’ve done this, gross sentimentality, and rambling personal crap under the cut.

The first and fastest reason is that I’m almost at 1000 followers, and I always meant to do some kind of prompt thing in celebration. Another reason is...so this is my wordcount on AO3 for 2021 as of finishing Definitionless.

For context, here are the previous three years

2020 includes the total word count of Universe Collision, which has been a work-in-progress since 2016. It’s 37k but only about 8k of that is from the last three years. I have literally written more this year than I have in the past three combined. This is your brain on Transformers, I guess!

Most of that is Definitionless, which is part of why I’m sentimental today, because that isn’t the first fic I wrote for Transformers but this--it was a big, long project that I started back in January and kept chipping away at a little bit at a time and now it’s done. That’s cool. I’m celebrating that.

The last reason...In 2019, my dad died.

I know. Subject change. I said I’d be getting grossly sentimental and this is part of why but it’s been over two years now and I still haven’t figured out how to explain that delicately. My dad died and I kept functioning outwardly like a person but I got kind of fucked up on grief for a while, enough that in 2020 when everything shut down and classes went online it honestly came as a relief. This is my context for I think the single most traumatic collective event of my generation: it was a relief.

In between these things, while behaving outwardly like a person, I tried to relearn how to behave inwardly like a person. How to keep my mental and emotional health and enjoyment of things ticking. A lot of that, for me, filters through fandom and online friends because these have been huge parts of my life since high school. So looking back, when I think of how I got briefly, wildly into the Penumbra podcast and started three fics only to realize now that I haven’t been able to touch the show in months and I don’t know if I’ll ever listen to it, because I was in such a painful place at the time I was first drawn to it, I can realize ‘oh. I was kind of fucked up.’ in a way I truly honestly wasn’t able to see at the time. Sometimes understanding your own pain is really counterproductive to surviving it. (I ran the stats on my own daily poems and the word ‘grief’ just...vanishes in 2020, before coming back in force this year. it’s kind of wild)

In late December, my friend Iz asked me if I’d join the D&D campaign she’d been running for a while. I went ‘sure, I’d love to, and also by the way, I’m really interested in playing as a character from your canonically post-apocalytic decaying world who’s lost everything for some reason.’ (At the time, if you’d asked me how I was doing, I would have said ‘oh, I’m fine’ and genuinely believed it.) Iz, you are a saint and a gift of a friend and the game you made was a lifeline for me. I don’t think I can say that enough.

About that same time, I finally gave these comics Steph had been telling me about for ages a shot and picked up MTMTE. I didn’t make it through on that first round, but I did watch the Bumblebee movie, and between those two things I got enough context that when someone on my dash started raving about astolat’s MegOp fic I went ‘hm’ and opened those. And then I read my way through a solid chunk of the archive. And eventually I went back to MTMTE and had Some Kind of Feelings.

In March or so, feministbatman who I was now playing D&D with and I started talking about our characters, and an AU where they had a different first meeting, and over the next four months we co-wrote a novella set in just that scenario. I wrote out a small percentage myself, but mostly I cheerled and edited and opined and generally just got the chance to remember: wow. I really like writing, actually. If you’re reading this: thank you, thank you, thank you.

Right after this is about when I got back into MTMTE. And watched TFP. And I kept reading a lot of transformers fic, and mentioned it to my friend Jess, who went ‘hey another friend is also telling me about transformers recently’ and then started playing in that space with me as I started to come up with ideas. and still hasn’t stopped, even though it’s been over a year of me sending her many stupid and silly ideas and fics in 400-word chunks over the course of weeks. Thanks. Thanks thanks thanks. I owe you so much.

I’m as stable and I’m happy as I am today because of dear friends, because of community, and because of the silly things I’ve done with words online. I want to celebrate that, and give back a little bit, and since the thing that I have fun contributing and that I think other people often have fun with from me is my writing, well...here you go. Ask away. I’ve been lucky enough to received a lot of joy from the people I’ve interacted with in the past couple of years, and I want to put some of that joy into the world.

And if you’ve ever clicked on something I’ve written because you wanted to see what it was, if you’ve ever liked a poem or fic I’ve posted, if you’ve ever taken that extra step to reach out and tell me ‘hey I liked what you made’--this is for you, in particular. Thank you all. Thank you so, so, much.

#sroloc babbles #personal crap

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 3 years

Text

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

#is this even good #i wrote this instead of an essay #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #me 🤝 commas #me 🤝 ... okay #the quality of this fic 📈📉📈📉📈

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supernatural-fangirl1967 · 3 years

Text

I’ll be Home for Christmas

Pairing: Soldier!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Bit of Angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 2,492

Summary: When Dean tells you that he’ll be home for Thanksgiving but doesn’t show, you don’t have much hope for Christmas. You fall into a depressive state of mind, but maybe you both have a way of suprising each other.

Square Filled: First Child (Fluff Bingo)

Square Filled: Coming Home for Christmas (Christmas Bingo)

A/N: This was written for @spnfluffbingo and @spnchristmasbingo. Please let me know what you think!

“You alright?” Sam asks you as you stare out of the window at the snow.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“Hey, I know that you miss Dean but he would want you to have a good Christmas,” Sam tells you.

“I know,” you sigh as you gently rub a hand over your stomach. “It’s just that… Dean’s supposed to be here.”

“I know,” Sam frowns. “Mom and Dad will be happy to see you and that grandbaby.” You laugh a bit. “You’ve been pretty quiet ever since Dean left.”

You take a deep breath. “When I talked to him he told me that he’d be here for Thanksgiving.”

“I know,” Sam tells you.

“Then he wasn’t there and I haven’t heard anything else from him. That can’t be good, Sam.”

“(Y/N), we both know that sometimes things pop up that Dean can’t tell us about.”

“I know, but I…”

“You’re worrying too much,” Sam tells you as he pulls up into the driveway. “Promise me that you’ll try to enjoy yourself today.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “I will try.”

“Good,” Sam smiles before he gets out of the car and walks over to open up your door. You swallow hard as you stare at the house and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. “(Y/N)?”

“Dean was with me when we were here last,” you tell him.

“I know,” Sam frowns as he wraps an arm tightly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Take a deep breath. You’ve got a Christmas present in there somewhere.”

“I don’t care about that,” you tell Sam as you bring a hand up to wipe the tears out of your eyes. “Nothing matters if I don’t have my husband here with me.”

“Hey, you are not doing this by yourself,” Sam tells you softly. “I’m here and Mom and Dad will help you with whatever you need.”

“I know, and I appreciate that Sam but you know that it isn’t the same thing.”

“I know,” Sam sighs. “Okay, just so you know, I know exactly what you’re getting for Christmas so if you don’t walk into the house right now, then I’m going to take your present for myself.”

“Go ahead,” you tell Sam as you cross your arms.

“Don’t be like that,” Sam chuckles as he pulls you with him towards the front porch. You walk into the house and start shrugging your coat off.

“(Y/N),” Mary smiles as she walks over to pull you into a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Well, Sam told me that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“Maybe this will do you some good,” she smiles.

“Is Dad at the store?” Sam asks.

“He had to run out for something last minute,” Mary says as she gives Sam a look.

“Oh,” Sam nods. Mary begins to lead you into the living room, and yet not before you see the small smile that Sam’s got on his face.

“We were afraid that you wouldn’t want to join us,” Mary tells you as you both take a seat on the couch.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of distant.”

“I understand,” Mary tells you as she gives you a sad smile. “We all miss Dean but I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you. Especially now with the baby.”

You smile a bit as you bring a hand down to your stomach. “I think what’s bothering me the most is thinking that Dean might not be here when the baby’s born.”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking like that.”

“I know,” you breathe out. “Dean told me before he had to go that he didn’t want me stressing out and overthinking but I… He doesn’t even know about the baby.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t find out until a few days after he left and I didn’t want to tell him over the phone,” you tell Mary as tears well up in your eyes once more.

“(Y/N), you have every right to want to tell Dean in person.”

“But what if he doesn’t know what he’s fighting for?” you ask her.

“Don’t you know by now that you’re enough to keep him fighting?”

You swallow hard and you nod your head a bit. “I guess so,” you breathe out and you smile when you feel a small kick against your hand. The front door opens up and John walks into the living room.

“(Y/N),” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” you tell him as you go to stand up off of the couch.

“Don’t get up,” John tells you as before he walks over to give you a hug. “How are you, kiddo?”

“I’m good,” you say and you try to give him a convincing smile.

“How is she actually doing?” John asks Sam as he turns to face him. “You’re the one who gets to see (Y/N) almost everyday.”

“She’s not been taking care of herself like she should,” Sam says as he smirks over at you.

“I’m literally right here,” you tell them.

“Alright,” Mary smiles as she stands up off of the couch. “We should eat before it gets cold.”

Sam reaches over to lay a hand onto your shoulder and he gives you a soft smile. “You sit and I’ll bring you a plate.”

“Sam, I am not sitting here in the living room eating by myself while the three of you sit and eat at the dining room table.”

“I’ll help you over there when I get your food,” he tells you.

“Help me over there?” you ask him. “Sam, I can still walk, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “Please let me help you.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you relax against the couch.

After everybody eats, Sam helps you up and over to the living room once more. You know what they’re going to do now. Usually, you love this part. With the boys arguing like little kids and Dean’s arm around you but now, you’re wanting to be anywhere but here.

“(Y/N),” Mary says as she hands you an envelope.

“Thanks,” you smile as you take it from her and sit it in your lap.

“You should open it,” Sam tells you.

“I will when I feel up to it,” you breathe out.

“Nobody’s moving a muscle until you open that,” John tells you.

“Seriously?” you sigh as you roll your eyes a bit. Sam moves his head to look over your shoulder as you open up the envelope and pull out a folded up piece of paper. “Oh,” you breathe out when you realize that it’s a letter from Dean.

“He sent it to me asking that I don’t give it to you until Christmas,” Sam tells you. “I didn’t read it.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in the words.

Sweetheart, I know that I promised you I’d be there at Thanksgiving. Something happened that I couldn’t talk about, and I wasn’t able to get to a phone. This is the first opportunity in days that I have had to sit down and write you. First off all you should know that I’m okay. I miss you more than anything but I’m physically okay. I’m going to make you a promise and this time, I’m going to keep it no matter what.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You swallow hard past the lump in your throat as a few tears fall over your cheeks. You’re so focused on what the letter says that you don’t even hear the front door open. Your eyes slide shut as you bring your head up a bit trying to keep the tears from falling. When you open your eyes, your heart stops when you see who is standing there in the doorway. He’s wearing a big smile on his face and both of his arms are open wide.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” you holler as you jump up off of the couch before running over to him. Dean wraps both of his arms tightly around you before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You let out a sob as you hide your face in his chest.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Dean whispers as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “I’m here with you.”

“I missed you, Dean,” you choke out.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much sweet girl,” Dean smiles before he leans in to press his lips firmly to yours. Dean pulls away from you, a soft expression settling over his face when he feels your stomach press into his. “Well, this is new,” Dean chuckles as he brings his free hand down to your stomach.

“I… I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” you breathe out. “I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything…”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Dean smiles widely at you.

“That’s the fastest that she’s moved in weeks,” Sam laughs.

“Just shut up, Sammy,” you laugh as Dean kneels down in front of you before placing both of his hands onto either side of your belly.

“Hello in there,” Dean murmurs. “It’s Daddy.” He looks up at with tears in his eyes and you can practically feel the love radiating off of this man. “Do you know what…”

You know what Dean’s going to ask so you nod and anticipation fills Dean’s expression. “A boy.”

“A boy,” Dean breathes out. “Gosh, (Y/N), this is the most amazing thing that a man could walk in the door to.” Dean glances over his shoulder at Sam. “You’ve been taking care of them for me?”

“Of course,” Sam nods. “Although she’s been giving me a bit of trouble.”

“Only when you get too bossy for me.”

“Which is apparently every time that I open my mouth,” Sam teases.

“We’ll go in here in the other room so that the three of you can get a few minutes as a family,” Mary tells you as she motions for Sam and John to walk on out of the living room.

“Don’t start eating without me,” Dean says.

“We already did that,” you giggle a bit. Dean’s eyes widen.

“Don’t worry. There’s plenty of leftovers that should still be warm,” Mary tells him as she walks off.

“There’d better be pie!” Dean hollers over his shoulder before he turns his attention to your stomach once more. He presses a kiss to your bump and lets his eyes slide shut and you run your fingers gently through his hair. “You been good for Momma?”

“I haven’t had much trouble,” you tell Dean truthfully. “I skipped the morning sickness but I have been craving cheeseburgers like crazy.”

“That’s my boy,” Dean chuckles before his eyes meet yours once more. “Do you know when you’re supposed to have him?”

“I’m due in three weeks.”

Dean swallows hard. “I don’t know if I’ll be there for you but you should know that I want to be.”

“I know, Dean,” you breathe out as you give him a soft smile. Dean’s eyes widen a bit before he jumps up to his feet.

“Sweetheart, you should be sitting down right now.”

“Dean,” you giggle as he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you over to the couch.

“If you thought that Sammy was bad you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

“Oh, I believe that,” you laugh. Dean sits you down on the couch before plopping down beside of you. He reaches over to lay a hand onto your stomach and he looks you in the eyes.

“Gosh, (Y/N), you have absolutely no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I have a good idea if it’s anywhere as bad as I missed you, Dean,” you tell him softly. Dean leans his forehead over against yours, his nose bumping against yours.

“Hi,” Dean smiles.

“Hi,” you giggle as you feel the baby kick against his Daddy’s hand. Dean finally lets a few tears that he had desperately been holding onto go.

“Hey, little man,” Dean chokes out as he rubs his thumb over your stomach.

“I think that someone loves their Daddy,” you giggle.

“Not as much as I love them,” Dean chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you if I did.”

“Dean, it’s okay,” you breathe out as you bring a hand up to gently wipe his tears away as your own fall over your lashes and down your cheeks. “I understand that you can’t always keep your promises.”

“Honey, I shouldn’t make them.”

“Stop,” you tell him softly. “I know that you would have been here if you could. Hey, at least you kept your promise to me that was in that letter.” Dean chuckles a bit. “Have you and Sam been planning this for a while?” you ask him.

“A couple weeks,” Dean nods. “I sent him a letter too asking him to help me out with it but to keep it from you. I wanted it to be a surprise and then you wound up surprising me.”

“Well, we both got a good surprise then,” you smile. “So when me and Sam got here and Mary told us that John had to run out for something…”

“He was picking me up at the airport,” Dean nods. “He took me by the house so that I could shower and then I drove here. Thought that I was gonna get a speeding ticket because all I could think about was getting here to you, (Y/N).”

“Dean,” you laugh a bit. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Dean whispers before he leans in to press his lips firmly to yours. “What do you say you and me go into the dining room before Sam eats all of my food?”

“Okay,” you laugh and you nod your head a bit at Dean. He jumps up off of the couch before reaching a hand out for you to take. You place your hand in Dean’s and it feels exactly like it did when you first starting dating. After all these years the butterflies are still there but now it’s not because you’re nervous. It’s because you know that no matter what, Dean is yours. Dean belongs to you now and you will never be able to wrap your head completely around it.

“Alright?” Dean asks you as he carefully pulls you up to your feet.

“Yeah,” you breathe out as you rub a hand over your stomach. “We’re good.”

Dean wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in tightly to him, pressing a kiss to your temple as he takes a deep breath to fight of all the tears once more.

“I love you so much, sweetheart, and our son too,” he whispers.

“We love you too, Dean,” you breathe out as you turn your head a bit to press your lips to his. “Merry Christmas.”

Dean smiles widely at you and his green eyes crinkle a bit at the corner. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

Tags: @polina-93 @campingmonkey @justanotherwinchester @squirrelnotsam @adoptdontshoppets @imaginationisgrowth @deanwanddamons @hobby27 @cookiechipdough @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @torn-and-frayed @thatmotleygirl @screechingartisancashbailiff

#spnfluffbingo #spnchristmasbingo #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #soldier!dean #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #SPN #fanfic

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

For His Brothers (complete)

This one has been bugging me for a while. So I finally went back and completed it.

This was started in December last year, so most of it has been posted here before, but I’ve decided to post it in its entirety since I haven’t written any of it since February.

But now it is finished. Yay!

Thanks as always to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for their amazing support throughout. You guys are just sooo kind to me ::hugs you to bits::

I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: angst, frustrated Gordon, angry John and a pair of idiot older brothers. 5861 words.

-o-o-o-

He reached over and gently brushed away a stray hair from his brother’s forehead.

The room was quiet. Considering the monetary clout the Tracy family sported, it was to be expected. Hidden away from the bustling hospital, this oasis of a room with its pale furnishings, white privacy curtains, the cushioned chairs in place of the usual plastic was a haven.

These comforts were to be valued and Virgil appreciated them even if his brother would have frowned at the extravagance.

But that was Scott.

Always thinking of everything and everyone but himself.

Virgil let his fingers glide through that soft brown hair, the severity of their situation clear by the lack of gel stiffening the strands.

Scott never left the house without every hair perfectly placed, fingernails manicured, skin clean and refreshed. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think this was a man willing to get his hands dirty. But then Scott was never what he seemed.

The hair gel, the spotless clothing, his deportment, it all spoke of a wealthy man who owned sixty sports cars, three yachts and a private plane.

Scott had the plane, sure, the fastest one on the planet. And hell, yeah, he had a fast car and even a motorcycle. He didn’t sport a boat, but then Gordon was the one to stash those and it wasn’t like he wasn’t willing to share…well, most things.

But Scott never had time to just drive his car. The bike was on the Island gathering dust in a corner of One’s hangar. Virgil was pretty sure Scott hadn’t been on a boat that didn’t involve some kind of life-threatening situation in about ten years.

No, Scott was not your average billionaire.

A sigh and Virgil let himself wilt in the chair beside the bed.

Please, Scott.

His brother was pale, his skin almost bloodless. If it wasn’t for that, he could have been asleep. Scott was neat even in slumber. He wasn’t one to sprawl. There was a certain quiet efficiency to everything he did.

Virgil had brought in his brother’s pyjamas. Even helped the nurse dress him. It wasn’t the first time, after all. If Scott had been awake at the time, the protests would have been epic. The man did not like needing help. Did not like showing vulnerability. Did not want any of it.

Virgil had fought him on this far too many times before using soft words and, if necessary, a pile of hard logic to get him to behave. Because there was one weapon Virgil always had up his sleeve. Catching Scott’s eyes, all Virgil had to say was that he needed to do this. Virgil needed to care for his brother. Look after him and see him well.

It cracked Scott’s obstinance every time, because Scott would do anything for his brothers.

Including sacrificing himself.

Virgil let his head drop to his hand and rubbed his face. There was an edge to his thoughts. A hysteria lurking in the corners, lured out by certain possibilities, accompanied by terror.

He couldn’t.

No.

Another sigh and he looked up again, forcing his eyes to land on his brother. The total inability to do anything grated on Virgil’s senses. His everything was to fix things.

He couldn’t fix this.

He reached down and caught his brother’s hand. It was cool, but not cold. The IV sticking out the back of the vein just beneath his skin shifted as Virgil moved and he clutched the tubing gently to his brother’s wrist to prevent stress on the site.

Scott’s fingers were long.

Longer than Virgil’s. Long enough to play the piano better than Virgil had ever been capable. It was Scott’s thing...to be better. Following him in everything due to age had its challenges. Scott was good at what he wanted to be good at.

The fact he had dropped the piano at an early age was just as frustrating as John not singing with his magical voice. Virgil felt like the last bastion of artistic pursuits in the family.

Virgil ran a finger over his brother’s limp digits. No longer playing the piano beyond what long term memory could provide, these fingers were tasked with so much more. The strength behind them controlled Thunderbird One, their dexterity manipulated equipment, their determination reached out to save so many souls.

His brother’s hand blurred and Virgil had to blink hard.

Virgil would follow his big brother anywhere, and to be honest, he had followed him into hell on many an occasion. He had no regrets. Sometimes he considered that perhaps he had been brought into this world to do exactly that. To follow the born leader his brother was. To enable the strategies he envisioned and, in turn, support him in their mutual endeavours.

And to keep him safe.

Virgil wrapped both his hands around Scott’s fingers and dropped his forehead to their cool touch.

God, please.

“Hey, Virg?” The voice was unmistakably Gordon’s, but it lacked vivacity. “Grandma wants you.” The aquanaut took a step into the room. “I can sit with Scott.”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Virg, please?”

He closed his eyes and held on just a little tighter to his brother’s hand.

The same hand he had failed to catch.

“V-“

“No.” His voice croaked the word, but the emotion came from so deep inside it hurt to cross his lips.

A soft touch to his shoulder and he heard his little brother crouch down beside him.

Virgil expected Gordon to keep trying to persuade him, but instead a soft head of hair leant into his shoulder and an arm reached around his back, pulling him off centre and holding him there.

No words, just Gordon’s soft breathing, slow and strong. Swimmer’s lungs. Olympian. Rescuer.

Thunderbird.

Virgil squeezed his eyes tight and kept his insides in where they belonged.

Gordon began gently stroking Virgil’s arm with the tips of his fingers.

They sat there like that for Virgil didn’t know how long. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead down and his big brother’s hand clutched in his.

“You know he is going to wake up, don’t you?” It was flippant and out of the blue. It shattered Virgil’s carefully tended calm and his head shot up, inadvertently pushing Gordon away.

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but his throat closed up. Only one strangled word made it out and it was little more than a plaintive wail. “How?”

“Because he’s Scott.” The surety in Gordon’s voice tore at the remains of Virgil’s heart. “Scott Tracy. Commander of International Rescue.” Gordon’s lips thinned as his eyes reflected the fluorescent lighting. “Thunderbird One.”

Virgil stared at his little brother a moment. The intensity in those brown eyes screamed belief and determination.

Not unlike Scott, really.

It almost broke Virgil in half.

He looked away, back to his big brother laid out on the white bed, almost funereal in appearance. Virgil’s throat clogged up, fear, distress and grief warring for dominance.

His eyes fixated on Scott’s eyelashes once again and mentally begged them to open, pleaded to see that wise and inspirational blue. For his brother to return to him.

Please don’t leave.

God, please, I can’t do this without you.

“He’s going to be fine, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice again intruded on his stability, shaking the fragile framework his composure was sitting on.

“He trusted me.” The words fell from his lips, his voice wet, his eyes still fixated on his silent brother.

“He always trusts you. We all do.” Gordon’s voice was very much his rescue voice. Soft, reassuring and ever so kind.

Virgil didn’t deserve it.

The powerlines had come out of nowhere. He should have predicted that at least, but instead he had John yelling in his ears and Scott swooping in low with his jetpack, grabbing him by his exo-suit and literally shoving him out of the way. Virgil had spun on one tortured ankle, but the electrical wires had missed him.

They hadn’t missed Scott.

They slapped across his jet pack and vivid white and orange sparks blinded Virgil as he tried to reach for his brother. After-images haunted his sight as Scott’s jet pack died. Virgil reached for his brother, claws extended, but he was clumsy, poorly balanced, and he missed.

Scott fell limp into the dark water below.

And Virgil couldn’t follow.

Then it was all a mad dance to get out the reach of the still flailing powerlines, accompanied by the roar of his own ‘bird swooping into a low hover and his aquanaut brother taking a swan dive off her front hatch into that same dark water.

Virgil hurried to get off the bridge, but found he couldn’t.

He had been on the outside of the structure, rappelling down to secure a car that had almost fallen off the bridge due to the 6.5 quake an hour ago. The bridge was almost empty bar the last of the support personnel who had helped International Rescue evacuate the injured. Virgil had clambered out there simply to clip a restraint onto the car’s chassis to prevent it from falling off the bridge and possibly causing more injury. It should have been a simple job, mere seconds before they moved onto the next site.

The pylon had fallen without warning.

And the powerlines, which weren’t supposed to be there, came with it.

Scott had saved Virgil’s life.

At the cost of his own.

And now Virgil couldn’t even get off the damned bridge due to that same pylon, a tangle in his rappel line, and the very strong possibility he had a broken ankle.

He had to stand there and watch Gordon drag their brother onto the shore and start CPR in the mud.

The aquanaut was joined by Alan and a hovering One almost immediately. Scott was scooped off the planet and the rocket plane tore off into the distance.

He was stuck on that bridge for a good twenty minutes. Unable to reach his ‘bird still hovering until John landed her in a street nearby. Unable to climb off the bridge. He was little more than just another rescuee in need of his brothers.

Full of terror.

John reported on Scott’s status as much as he could and fretted in his own calm way over Virgil. His voice was, as ever, a balm, but the lack of a definitive answer on whether his eldest brother was going to survive kept Virgil’s heart rate in the red.

But then there was the familiar roar of that same brother’s ‘bird and One shot into an abrupt hover, Alan rappelling down and finally scooping Virgil off the side of the bridge.

Scott was still unconscious when Virgil finally made it to the hospital, and his brother had stayed that way ever since.

Three days.

Three long pain-filled days.

Virgil’s ankle had been splinted and he was mobile. Turned out the left strut of his exo-suit had actually snapped. How Scott had managed to shove him with that much force, Virgil had no idea. But it had achieved what his brother had wanted to do. He had saved Virgil, even if he hadn’t managed to save himself.

So quiet. So still.

Gordon shifted beside him, a small sigh passing his lips.

“Thank you, Gordon.” Virgil’s throat clogged again. “For saving him.”

“You don’t need to thank me. We’d all do the same for any of us.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I should have known those wires were there. I should have moved faster.”

“What are you? Prophetic? John had the plans for that bridge, you had the plans for that bridge. There was no mention of hidden cables in that span. You know it, I know it. There wasn’t a damn thing you could have done. Some stupid idiot didn’t file the proper papers with the proper authorities.”

“I should have scanned the structure more thoroughly.”

“Virgil, it was a bridge, not a damned building. You and Scott located all the injured. You did good.” An exasperated sigh. “This was not your fault.” Gordon straightened. “And if you don’t leave this room and eat something, Grandma is going to have both our hides.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look at him. “No. I’m staying here.” He had to, because Scott had to wake up.

He had to.

“I have to say, bro, I had to talk very fast to keep Grandma away. Forty-eight hours is ridiculous. You need food and rest.”

“I ate.” The discarded remains of breakfast sat on the sideboard. It had been cardboard and chaff in his mouth. The water had been welcome to wash it down.

And he’d kept it down...mostly.

Gordon glared at him. “More than three mouthfuls. Listen, if you don’t move yourself, John and I are going to move you for your own good.”

Virgil looked up at Gordon in shock. “No.” He had to be here.

“You’re forcing our hand, Virg! I will knock you out myself, if I have to, and I know...I know...Scott would agree.”

“Yes, he does.” It was parched and more breath than voice, but it was Scott.

Virgil spun in his chair as the fingers still wrapped in his hands curled around his. Dopey blue eyes pinned him from the bed. “What the h-hell are you doing, Virgil?”

“Scott!” Something inside broke. A dam, a wall of emotion slammed into him at the sight of that crease between Scott’s eyebrows, the twitch of his lips.

It took everything he had to hold it all in.

“Hey, big bro, you’re with us! How are you feeling?” Gordon was on his feet and practically bouncing. A blink and his little brother had thumbed his comms and was letting their family know.

The figure under the bed clothes shifted and groaned. “Stiff and sore. What the hell happened?”

“You got zapped like a bug, went for a swim, and made Alan fly you to these luxurious accommodations.” Gordon’s arm waved around at the white room.

Scott stared at Gordon a moment before blearily turning to Virgil, his expression pleading an explanation.

Virgil pushed it past the lump in his throat, voice parched. “You were hit by live powerlines and knocked from the sky. Fortunately, you were over water and fairly low. Gordon fished you out and saved your life.”

A blink as those blue eyes absorbed that. “What about you?” And there was memory in those eyes, worry for a younger brother, the drive that pushed Scott to give his everything.

For his brothers.

“I’m good.” Now.

“Bullshit, Virg.” Gordon’s expression was beyond exasperated. “You need rest.”

Lips thinned. “I know what I need, Gordon.”

The hand that was still in his tightened and Virgil was forced to look at Scott. Nothing was said, but everything was communicated.

For his brothers.

Scott would not rest if Virgil did not.

He swallowed his beating heart and with a gentle squeeze of his brother’s hand, Virgil stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I sh-should let the others know you’re awake.”

Virgil was vaguely aware of Scott frowning up at him as he reached for his crutches, but a sudden light-headedness distracted him. Perhaps he should eat something.

“Virg?” Scott’s voice was weak.

“What?” Virgil turned and the world turned with him.

A clatter of plastic chair and Gordon was suddenly in his face. “Hey, there, Virg. Take it slow.” His little brother was frowning as much as Scott, his hand gripping Virgil’s biceps holding him steady.

Virgil got his crutches under his arms. “I’m...good.”

Scott was struggling to sit up.

Gordon let go of Virgil with one hand and grabbed his eldest brother by the shoulder. “Hey, you stay put.”

“Virgil-“

“Virgil is fine, Scott. He is going to go to his rooms to eat and sleep for a good twelve hours even if I have to tie him to his bed.” A thumb to his collar. “John, I need you in here.”

Within seconds, the door opened and their red-haired brother strode in. The moment those turquoise eyes landed on Virgil, his brow creased into a frown, but it flickered as he turned to Scott, relief taking over.

Gordon didn’t give him a chance to say anything

“Johnny, a clear case of Operation Big Bro Tango. You want Scott? I’ll dance with Virg.”

A smirk curved John’s lips. “FAB.”

“What the hell?” That came from Scott.

Virgil had closed his eyes at some point. The world was still going around. The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor and an arm wrapped around his waist. “C’mon, Virg, let’s get you something to eat.”

He didn’t want to eat. He was nauseous and his head hurt and his heart was tied up in a mass of emotion that he could barely keep under control.

“Scott-“

“Scott will be fine. John has him, and I have you.”

“I’m...” But he wasn’t fine and he had to get out of this room before Scott realised it. Before... “I’m good.” That last word scraped over his larynx and left a bloody trail. He forced his eyes open to find a worried Scott staring up at him. John’s hand was on his eldest brother’s shoulder and he was speaking quietly to the man, obviously trying his best to keep Scott where he was. Virgil forced some steel into his spine. “I’m good, Scott. I’m going to get something to eat. Gran...Grandma will probably be here in a moment.” His hand tightened on his crutches and he carefully edged around the chair that had been his constant companion for the last few days.

Gordon hovered.

“Look after yourself, Virgil.” Scott’s voice was desperate.

Virgil didn’t look back. “I’m good. You worry about you.” A haggard breath. “Listen to John.”

He got a grunt for that as Gordon held open the door, urging him through.

A last glance at his big brother, now sitting up in bed, John’s hand still on his shoulder. Virgil turned his back to him and crutched his way through the door.

He made it all of five steps down the corridor before Gordon had to catch him as he fell.

-o-o-o-

“You idiot.”

It was breathless and close. It came from beyond the fog and outside the numb space he was inhabiting. It spoke of a place where pain existed.

Because there was pain in that voice.

“Why did you do this? Why?!”

The voice was familiar and it sparked hurt in his heart.

“Do you honestly think I would risk everything for your life just so you can go and flush it all down the toilet in some self-sacrificing vigil? Virg, why?”

Somewhere there was a thump as something fell beside him. It vibrated slowly through his body. He had a body. He had a hand. Because it was grabbed and held tightly, crushed up against soft skin backed by muscle and bone.

Breath tantalised the hairs on his wrist.

Whispered. “Virg, it wasn’t your fault. John hunted down the person responsible.” A soft snort. “You should have seen him. Our brother can be truly terrifying when he wants to be.” Another sigh across his wrist. A brush of fingers. “I can’t…”

Scott swallowed. Because it was Scott and there was something very significant about that.

“You can’t do this. I can’t…” The voice petered off again.

The hand holding his tightened a little more.

“You’re my brother.” The words came laden with so much emotion Virgil’s heart stuttered and he struggled to focus, to reach out.

His fingers wrapped around those holding them.

“Virgil?” There was sudden hope.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

The new, sharp voice startled Virgil and he flung his eyes open. Blinded by ceiling tiles he groaned and shut them again. Hospital. He was in a damned hospital.

“Virgil?!” A clatter of footsteps hurrying close. Gordon. The new voice was Gordon.

Typical.

“What?” The single word made it past his dry throat.

Another hand landed on his opposite shoulder and he attempted to open his eyes again and found his fish brother smiling down at him. “’Bout time you woke up. Was beginning to wonder if you were trying to compete with electro boy over there.” Gordon waved a hand across the bed to the opposite side.

Virgil turned his head and found a wan Scott Tracy sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. His big brother was a picture of exhaustion.

Several neurons fired in the right sequence and facts aligned themselves into order. “Scott!” Virgil pushed himself up.

“Whoa, Virg! Take it slow.” Strong aquanaut hands caught him as his body protested the sudden change in orientation. “And you, keep your butt plastered to that chair or I’m calling Johnny back in here to kick it. Hell, I might do that anyway. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

Scott grunted as Gordon shoved pillows behind Virgil’s back and fiddled with the automatic bed controls until Virgil was supported enough to relax.

Scott did not let go of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil didn’t let go of Scott with his eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice was dry and cracked.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” His brother straightened as if to prove the point as Gordon spluttered a scoff. Blue eyes targeted the aquanaut. “I’m fine.” Firm and decisive.

“My god, both of you are idiots.” It was pure frustration this time. “Scott, go back to bed before you collapse just like your idiot brother. If you fold, then he’ll rot beside your bed until he collapses again and the rest of us will be stuck with two sick idiots.” He glared at both of them. “Well, sicker than you already are.” Angry brown eyes flicked to Virgil. “Grandma is going to roast you, Virg. You are so dead. Since when do you not take her medical advice?”

“What?” And now there was a pair of angry blue eyes glaring at him, too. “You ignored Grandma? Are you insane?”

Gordon’s eyebeams zapped his eldest brother where he sat. “You can’t talk, Scott. You’re out of bed. Grandma told you to stay there. One flick to comms and you are toast.”

“Gordon-“

“No. Screw this. You guys might be worried about each other, but we care about you too. I’ve had to pick both of you off the floor just recently and it was not fun! Think about that!” Gordon was yelling. “Do as you are damn well told and get better!”

“Gords?” And Virg was moving, throwing off his covers.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?!”

Virgil froze. The anger emanating off his brother was fiery and so out of character, Virgil’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gordon?” And Scott rose unsteadily to his feet.

Those angry eyes whipped around and targeted Scott. “For God’s sake, sit down!”

The door behind Gordon was suddenly shoved open and John barrelled through. Aquamarine eyes caught the scene and Gordon was grabbed from behind before he could launch himself at his brothers.

“Gordon.” John wasn’t stronger than his fish brother, but his presence was enough and Gordon wilted in his arms.

“John, your turn to tango. I’ve had it.” He slipped from his brother’s grip and stormed out.

Virgil remembered to draw a breath, but then his eyes were caught by an aquamarine glare and he knew he was dead.

“Scott, get into bed.” It was said quietly, but with intent. Virgil was not surprised when his eldest brother did exactly as he was told without protest.

He did worry at how pale Scott was and had to fight the urge to climb out of bed and help him, broken ankle or not.

John pinned Virgil with his eyes.

Virgil pulled the covers back over himself and said nothing.

His space brother made sure Scott was comfortable, but didn’t say anything further until the pilot relaxed back onto his pillows. John then moved to the ends of their beds and turned to face both of them.

“I expect better.” He held their eyes a moment longer. “I need to see to Gordon.” Their little brother turned away, his back dismissing them. He flicked an eye to the ceiling. “Eos, monitor please. Alert Grandma as needed.”

“Yes, John.” Virgil startled at the sharp but not unexpected response.

John didn’t spare them anything else before he left.

Virgil’s heart sank through the floor.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was absent for most of the rest of Virgil’s stay in the hospital. Fortunately, that stay wasn’t very long, just one more night and Virgil suspected Grandma had had a word to the doctors to achieve that.

He slept most of it, comforted by the sound of Scott’s breathing. His brother had to stay in a little longer considering his three days of non-responsiveness, but Grandma intervened and sent Virgil home to the Island.

It felt like banishment.

But he also felt like he deserved it for worrying his family so much.

At the time it had seemed the only logical course. He had to stay with Scott.

Just had to.

Stepping out of the situation clarified it for him somewhat and gave him his family’s perspective, ever so clearly.

He vanished into his studio for two days.

Gordon had come home with him, obviously still playing the big brother tango thing that he and John obviously used as some kind of strategy to herd Scott and himself. It was somewhat ridiculous, but he could now see why.

There was more guilt, on top of guilt.

The paint was angry.

On the third day there was a knock on his studio door. “Virgil?”

John.

Virgil closed his eyes and sighed. Scott was returning today and the paint splattered all over the canvas he had been prodding since six in the morning was going nowhere.

There was a lot of blue.

So much blue.

“Virgil?”

He put down his paintbrush and realised there was also a lot of blue on him. He brushed at his shirt, but half of it was dry and the other half just smeared and made it worse.

All blue.

“Virg?”

“Come in.” It was resigned.

The door unlatched and John peered into the room, eyes exploring in that critical way his little brother absorbed everything until they latched onto Virgil. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Virgil grabbed a rag and scrubbed off the wet paint on his hands. His skin crackled where some had dried.

Those eyes fixated on him, drifting down to the ankle and the crutches on the floor.

John sighed. “Virgil...”

The engineer connected the dots and pressed his lips together. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.” To emphasise the point, he dragged over the stool he had been using for most of the morning and planted his butt on it. “See.”

John’s eyes lowered a little, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he shut the door behind him and made his way over to Virgil. Grabbing another stool, he sat down next to him in front of the painting from a blue sculpted hell.

John’s aquamarine eyes both blended and clashed with the colour scheme. “I sense a theme.” It was said lightly, almost an invitation to truce.

“It sucks.” The blue was smeared in streaks over more streaks. It spoke of canted speed and pain. Paint cracked again as Virgil tightened a fist.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ever so quiet and calm.

And days worth of frustration and guilt surfaced. “I have the equipment, John. I should have scanned. One little scan and so much hurt could have been avoided.”

“Fine. We will add infrastructure scans to our standard procedure. Name the type and we will do it.”

The simple statement brought Virgil up short.

John raised an eyebrow. “You expected something else?” His expression softened. “No one is blaming you, Virgil. No one but yourself.”

“Scott almost died.”

“But he didn’t.”

“John...” He let his head drop. “I can’t...”

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Virgil, you don’t have to. Scott will be fine.”

Virgil swallowed and turned back to his painting. An absent smear of blue with a thumb. He frowned and pushed himself to his feet. A finger here, another smear there. He grabbed his palette and added some red, still finger painting. White and a touch of Payne’s grey, more blue and more white and for a moment he lost himself in the process.

“It’s Thunderbird One.” It was said quietly, but with awe. “How did you do that?”

Virgil didn’t answer, grabbing a brush and, using the point at the end of the handle, scratched in the casual detail of his big brother’s ‘bird.

Lines he knew ever so well.

A fingernail of red and blue and Scott appeared aboard the facsimile of the rocket plane.

Virgil shuffled backwards on one foot. “I can’t fly her.”

He heard the frown rather than saw it. “Yes, you can.”

“No. No, I’m not Scott. Never Scott.” He turned to face his little brother as the emotions poured onto his face, raw and desperate. “I can’t lose him, John. I can’t.”

Aquamarine eyes widened. “Virgil?”

Realising exactly what he was saying, Virgil turned away and put the paintbrush down and swallowed his fear. “You’re right. I’ll write new procedures. It won’t happen again.” He grabbed a rag and concentrated on scrubbing the paint off his fingers.

But John was having none of it, he grabbed Virgil by the shoulders. “Now you listen to me. You have four brothers. Four, Virgil. If the worst happens. We will work it out.” Those hands tightened. “We. Will. Work. It. Out.” John pulled him into his arms and he was being hugged ever so tight.

John’s shirt was smooth against his cheek.

Virgil closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” It made it past his tight throat.

John didn’t respond other than to hold him even tighter.

-o-o-o-

John had him clean up and have a shower. Virgil was tired and arguing required more energy than he had. Thunderbird Five was doing his big bro tango with skill.

Following that, his red-haired brother rounded him up and escorted him, crutches and all, to the kitchen and the sounds of family.

Virgil almost baulked, but a gentle hand in the middle of his back nudged him down the stairs.

“Virgil! Scott’s home!” Alan bounced up to him, nothing but glee-filled relief on his face and the engineer couldn’t help but lift his own mood to match.

The sight of his big brother sitting at the table, pale and wan, managed Virgil a step further in relief, but a step back in worry. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“And good morning to you, too, Virgil.” Scott shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth, making a point to lick the maple syrup off his lips. “Besides, look in the mirror.”

Virgil was aware of Alan shooting him a concerned look, but he ignored it.

The room was filled with the wonderful smell of fresh cooked pancakes. A glance into the kitchen itself and Virgil found Gordon at the stove, busily producing the pancakes that Scott was so eagerly consuming.

“It’s lunch time.” It was a redundant statement, and said without thought.

He paid for it appropriately.

“Pancakes for lunch is perfect for an invalid fresh home from the hospital.” Gordon’s tone was sharp and Virgil was forced to realise his fish brother hadn’t yet forgiven him.

His heart sank.

“Sit down, Virgil, before you fall down.” Scott was eyeing him as he shoved another forkful in his mouth.

He got cream on his nose.

Alan immediately pointed it out and cracked up laughing as Scott purposefully attempted to lick his own nose and made a complete idiot of himself in the process.

Anything for his brothers.

Virgil sighed as John pointed him to a seat beside their eldest brother. A short stack of pancakes were procured and placed in front of him, as was some orange juice.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, John shut him down. “No coffee. And don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been sculling the stuff all morning. I’ve seen the free range coffee cup herd in your studio.”

Virgil grunted and glared at the glass.

Condensation reflected his image back at him thousands of times at the microscopic level.

He let the sounds around him merge into the soundscape.

Each brother had his own pitch. His own timbre. Kayo waltzed through at one point, her voice a higher melody amongst the masculine chorus.

Alan’s laughter bounced around the room like someone had dropped a set of cymbals and they were clattering into everything.

Gordon’s tone was unusually sharp and Virgil closed his eyes, knowing it was his fault. His sunshine brother was well into the brass section today.

John was a woodwind. Calm, quiet, melodious. Subtle and sneaking up like a dramatic lead into a surprise.

And Scott…

Virgil’s forehead furrowed.

Scott conducted it all. His warm voice drew it all together and made it work. He was the creator of the symphony that was their family.

Something cold and wet was suddenly smeared on his nose.

What the-?

He opened his eyes to a mixture of white blob and laughing blue.

Somewhere, Alan cracked up again. He must have fallen over, because there was a crash and a squawking Gordon, who in turn began to laugh his ass off.

“That’s a great look, Virg.” Scott was grinning at him.

Beyond Scott, John was smiling ever so fondly.

Virgil turned back to his big brother. “That better be cream.”

His brother’s grin got even wider.

Virgil just stared at him a moment longer before poking out his tongue and casually licking the cream…it was thankfully just vanilla whipped cream…off the end of his nose in one quick swipe.

The room erupted in both awe and horror.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Ew, gross!”

Even John had a rather weirded out expression on his face.

Only Scott was unfazed, still grinning as if he knew what would happen.

Which he did.

Which was probably why he had done it in the first place.

For his brothers.

Virgil grabbed a napkin and wiped his nose clean properly. He dropped it on the table and then, shifting his chair over a little, let himself slide gently sideways until his head was against Scott’s shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

Still smiling. “Glad to be here.”

The exclamations of both awe and ew continued until it became a war between the terrible two and who had the longest tongue.

Virgil just let his eyes close and relaxed against his big brother. Eventually an arm crept around him and pulled him a little closer. It felt warm.

It felt safe.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whispered exhalation.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

Virgil grunted, but was too comfortable to disagree.

Scott was home, and the familiar sounds of his family swelled around him, leaching away the worry and the fear.

It felt safe.

Because Virgil was a brother and obviously, Scott would do anything.

For his brothers.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy

41 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

honesty | shane walsh ; the walking dead

Notes:

I’ve always written Evie with Shane and I’ve always said that I wish I could find a beginning for the two that wasn’t so loaded or angst filled. I was in my feelings earlier about the dark path Shane’s life took after Rick came back. And I think that as this was taking place, I just kind of wondered.. What if I just started their whole story out here? So the idea took hold and I wrote this out? Anyway.. If I were to start their own sort of story ( which I’m not ruling out, it all depends on what you guys wanna see or not), I honestly believe I’ve finally found that solid starting point.

Also, fluff. Because now and then fluff is nice. There is a hot little touchy feely kissing session in here too, I got you fam.

Pairing:

Grimes!Sibling OFC, Evie x Shane Walsh.

Warnings:

An overload of fluff. Hurt comfort. Complete and total au version of Rick’s return to the world -and the group after awakening from his coma. Lori’s not cast in the best light when Evie’s doing her heavy internal reflecting. Pining.. Years of pining all built up until it just can’t be tolerated anymore and the words have to come out.

Other Stuff:

[ faq | tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@mrsstevenbuchananstark

H O N E S T Y,

I couldn’t sleep. My tent was leaking and the drip drip drip of the rain as it poured down from above were driving me to the brink of insanity. And maybe somewhere deep down, I was worried about Shane.

How he was going to handle things now that Rick was alive and a part of the group. He’d been through so much stress. He’d been the leader, stepping up and taking charge. Keeping the group that assembled at the quarry in the beginning together. Keeping us alive.

And true to form, my brother showed up and it almost seemed as if Shane were forced to the side by literally everyone who depended on him before. Right off the bat, he seemed to just step right into a leadership position.

But that wasn’t what bothered me most. What bothered me most was the pained look on his face when he watched Lori and Rick having their little heart warming reunion. Something had changed in Shane in that exact moment. His eyes had gone dull. It looked like he’d lost any shred of hope and any fight he had left.

And every part of me wanted to choke Lori for that. Because for as long as I’ve stood back watching things play out between my brother, his wife and a man that we were basically raised to think of as a brother, one thing has been a constant.

Lori’s always quick to use Shane when she needs him. She’s even quicker to let him go and turn her back on him when she’s gotten what she wants or needs.. Or she stands a chance to lose my brother.

I took a few deep breaths and shoved all of that out of my mind. Well, I tried to.

The leak in my tent wasn’t getting any smaller. And the more the rain came down, the louder the dripping got until finally, it succeeded in driving me from my tent.

I found Shane sitting on the tailgate of his Bronco, the Mossberg beside him. He was sitting there, staring at his hands. Even from across our campground I could see the tension in his muscular frame.

And then something else clicked for me.

All this time I’ve kept one thing buried and hidden. Too afraid to voice it. I’ve always wanted Shane Walsh all to myself. I’ve always felt something beyond friendship for the man. And the feelings only seemed to grow with each year that passed in our lives.

Life’s too short to keep wondering.

Life’s entirely too short to keep sitting back. Watching things play out the way they always seem to between the three of them. I could be bitten and turned tomorrow and the thought that I’d die without ever even hinting that I loved him and cared for him deeply was unsettling to me.

Before I could chicken out, I crawled out of my tent. Jogging over to the Bronco just as the rain really picked up.

I cleared my throat and Shane looked up.

What had been so easy in theory became so much more complex than I anticipated. I went to open my mouth, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Shane nodded to the space next to him on the tailgate and I hoisted myself up, swinging my legs as I settled in.

“Yer soakin wet.” Shane mused. I could feel him staring at me. Damned if I could grow the necessary strength to meet his gaze though. God knows I tried at least a thousand times as I sat there, struggling with how to go about doing what I’d wandered over to do.

“Kind of what happens when your tent’s got a fucking hole in the roof.” I muttered, my eyes drifting down to bare and mud caked feet.

“ Didn’t get Rick t’ patch it?” just the flat tone he took had me frowning a little to myself. Hugging myself as the breeze picked up and I went from cooled down like I’d been bitching about wanting to be hours ago to me actually feeling a little cold.

“Nope.” I answered.

We reached for the bottle of Jim Beam sitting between the two of us at the same time. My hand rested against the top of his hand and I took a few shaky breaths. My heart felt like it might just beat out of my chest at any second.

He let go of the bottle and I took a generous sip from it, holding it out to him. He glanced at me and took the bottle, taking a few long pulls before sitting it back down between us again. Then he cleared his throat.

“Y’ can’t sleep in a wet tent, hon. Fastest way t’ get sick. Especially with the wind blowin like it is.”

“Kind of why I’m here.” I admitted quietly, swinging my feet back and forth. Staring down at them intently because I did not dare glance over at him.

“Figured you’d go t’ Rick and Lori’s tent.” Shane muttered, a note of surprise creeping into his tone as he spoke.

“They need their time and space. Besides, if I have to spend one more second in closed quarters with that woman, I might actually snap and choke her to death.” I rambled, my words falling away at the end because I realized just how harsh my tone sounded.

Shane chuckled quietly. “Always wondered why y’ didn’t like her.”

“She played the two men I love most against each other and tried to make them hate each other. If it would’ve worked at any point, I would’ve probably killed her. She’s lucky I haven’t killed her since I came back, come to think of it.” I shrugged.

Beside me, Shane shifted around a little. Cleared his throat. His mouth opened and closed like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t say anything.

“ It never would’ve changed nothin between you n’ me, Evie. If she had come between me n’ Rick, I mean...”

I took a deep breath.

“ It would if I don’t mean love in the sense you think I do.” I quickly reached for the bottle of Jim Beam, anxious for anything to occupy my mouth before I made an unholy mess of this whole spur of the moment idea of mine.

Shane’s hand shot out, circling my wrist. Lowering the bottle I held in my hand back down to the tailgate. As soon as the bottle was out of my hand, his fingers curled under my chin, guiding my eyes up to meet his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I love you. Not as a friend or a brother. “ ,, you could’ve been so much more graceful in your phrasing. Did you really have to just dump it all out like that?” my mind taunted and my stomach proceeded to twist itself into thousands of tiny little knots as I waited for something. Any kind of reaction one way or another from him.

When that reaction came, I was shocked, to say the least. He reached out, plucking me off the tailgate. Settling me in his lap.

“How then?” he questioned, his eyes searching mine. His tone firm and yet still… Unsure. Almost as if he were afraid to pin any hopes on anything.

“ I left town to try and escape it back then because it was driving me crazy. Standing by and watching you three and your rollercoaster. I… I tried a thousand times to tell you how I really felt.” I admitted quietly, toying with the front of his shirt to distract myself. He tilted my face again, making me keep eye contact. As a feeble afterthought I sighed and shook my head, added in a hushed whisper, “You don’t have to.. I’ll be okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to tell you.. In case something happens down the road.”

I was going to try and just gracefully extract myself from his lap and the situation so I could keep the thin shred of dignity I had left at this point, but his hands settled in place on my hips, holding me in his lap.

He chuckled quietly. Looking at me as if he wanted to say something, his mouth opened, only to close again as he shook his head. “So instead of just sayin somethin.. Y’ left.”

I cringed. It sounded every bit as ridiculous now as it did to me when I decided to do it. “ I was afraid, okay? I know she’s always been it for you. I just couldn’t stand back and watch everything play out anymore, I…” I trailed off because there was this look in his eyes as they fixed on me.

“Y’ didn’t have a clue, hm?”

My brow raised.

“ Why else would I pick fights with th’ idiots you tried datin all the time?”

My breath caught in my throat and I raised my hand, dragging it through my hair. Really trying to puzzle out things.

“ Woman… I got y’ a locket. I wasn’t just spendin all my time over at your house because we were all friends. Most of it was because I could be around y’. I gave up back then because I figured you weren’t interested. Kind of the only reason why I ever let Lori get t’ me in the first place. Because I thought y’ deserved better than me.”

I reached down into the front of my shirt, pulling the locket he’d given me years ago out, showing him that not only did I still have the locket, I still wore it. It’s never actually left my neck since the night he gave it to me, silly as that sounds.

“I’ve been through four chains now. Held up court once because it fell off my neck before I was due in but I wasn’t going in the court room until I found it.” I admitted, managing a sheepish smile as I met his gaze, holding it. Scooting closer to him for warmth. He raised his hands, rubbing over my arms. My legs settled around his waist and I sighed quietly.

Taking a few long and shaky breaths to get myself centered. To process my surprise at his own admissions thus far.

Because I hadn’t been expecting things to take the turn they had, at all. I thought that if anything, I’d pour it all out and he’d awkwardly but politely point out that he didn’t feel anything at all for me. He’d try to let me down gently or something.

“Remember when I asked for that help senior year? The big English paper?” Shane muttered after a few seconds of us just wordlessly staring at each other, lost in thought. Trying to process everything. Clumsily touching each other, our bodies migrating closer together. He raised a hand, smoothing my hair back out of my eyes as I nodded yes to his question.

“ I didn’t need help. I just wanted to be around y’ without Rick popping in and out. Had myself all convinced that I was hot shit. That I could go for it n’ kiss ya. Every damn time I tried, always managed to talk myself out of it. Except that last time. When we leaned in at the same time and wound up bumpin noses and Rick wandered in? If he hadn’t, I was going for it again.”

I swallowed hard because that was one of many nights I replayed over and over again in my own mind.. Each time a different ending that seemed to pave the way for some fairytale ending.

,, if the world weren’t falling to pieces…” my mind was at it again, trying to stop me from going further, trying to make any excuse to back out now. But this time, I shoved down the thought. This time I wasn’t backing out. The world might be falling to pieces but that didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to squeeze some shred of joy out of it before it all came to a grinding halt.

We were talking now. Being more open than we’d ever really been with each other.

He’d even managed a weak smile here and there. Which was more than I’d seen out of him in hours by this point.

I felt the weight of the world lifting just because I knew that if everything came to an abrupt end tomorrow, I’d finally gotten it all out. He knew that at least one person loved him. Wanted him. Needed him.

Somehow, I got the feeling that right now, he needed to know that almost as badly as I needed to finally get it off my chest.

His hands were starting to wander. Our mouths kept migrating closer and closer and it seemed as if the storm and everything else in the world around us was just sort of falling away. It was so quiet that I could hear my heart beating loud against my chest. My mouth brushed the corner of his mouth and then he snapped.

What started out as a clumsy little halfway kiss turned into his hands tangling in my hair and gripping my hip, pulling me completely against him as the hand tangled in my hair pulled it free from a messy braid and dragged through it, tugging at it. His teeth locked onto my bottom lip, tugging until it started swelling. My tongue dragged over the outline of his mouth slowly, savoring the moment for all it was. My fingers dug into his shoulder and carded through his hair as my legs squeezed his sides and I basically clung to him when our tongues tangled and our mouths crashed against each other, the soft smack of deep and hot, frenzied kisses echoing in the still all around us. Shattering the bubble that seemed to have formed to keep everything else at bay.

By the time I was rubbing against him clumsily, we were breaking apart to breathe and his forehead rested against mine. The hand on my hip raised, settling on my cheek as he rolled his thumb over and caressed it.

I yawned, cuddling myself against him. Looking over my shoulder to where my leaky tent sat unused across the campsite. Shane chuckled and turned my gaze back to him, closing the distance between our mouths all over again, muttering quietly into the kiss, “We should probably get some sleep. We’ll figure somethin out tomorrow. Y’ can borrow one of my shirts to get dry, darlin.”

I nodded, swallowing hard as the shock started to wear off at last, replaced by honest to God sheer bliss...

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