#anyways finally calling it quits on this and am never touching another timeline again (me when I lie I'm eyeing the BNHA timeline again :') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amara-scott · 4 years

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Enjoy your dinner.

Movie: The Gentlemen Characters: Raymond Smith x Reader Categories: Teasing

you’re reading part one | part two

Takes place a few weeks before the movie timeline.

...

3rd Person P.O.V.:

Her father knew very well that she did not enjoy these kinds of events. Richlings bragging about their richness to other fat cats. Not to mention the young ones. The ones her age, who did not have to flip a coin to get any of the wealth their parents owned. Dirty or good money, does not matter. It is more dirty than anything else though. And she knew that also. Another reason for her to usually not stay longer than needed.

It has been a while since her father has last asked her to join him and her mother to a dinner party. It was way more just a synonym for let’s see who will embarrass themselves first by drinking too much of the way too expensive bottle of rum. Long translation - but a hundred percent correct.

And even though she loathed going, she always used the opportunity to make the largest impact possible without trying to say a word. She loved the longing stares and the surprised ones every time she did indeed attend alongside her parents. Today it was just her father though. Her mother was out in Paris, probably spending all the pocket money her loving husband gave her. At least their love for each other seemed honest.

(Y/N) P.O.V.:

When I walk down the stairs to stop in front of a mirror in my hallway, I hear another honk of the limousine waiting outside. I sigh, grabbing a light coat and throwing that over my arm, holding a small clutch in my hand. After locking the door behind me, I greet Mitch with a smile.

“ ’Ello Miss (Y/L/N), hope you are doing well today.” I hold back a roll of my eyes, long forgotten how many times I made him call me by my first name. If I had to guess, probably around 64 times. He doesn’t work for me, he works for my father and my father alone.

“Very well indeed, how about you, Mitch?” He smiles, about to answer, when a voice from inside the car calls out.

“-You can chat on the way there, we’re late as it is.” Now I do roll my eyes at my fathers words and send Mitch another small smile. He nods, closing the door when I’m in, going back to the drivers seat.

“Wow, darlin’, you look lovely tonight.” I greet him with a kiss to each cheek and buckle up.

“Thank you, is that a new suit? I’ve never seen you wear burgundy red.” He nods, smoothing out the fabric.

“It is, it is. You’re a smart one. I despised the colour but your mother thinks it looks expensive and high-class. And you know her- there’s no telling her no.” I chuckle along and we get a few small-talk questions out the way before we finally arrive at the mansion. Some old business partner of my father’s. I can’t keep names in mind so I usually go the shy and long time no see route. It usually works.

My father helps me step outside and Mitch rides off, picking us up later again. Before walking after my father I take a deep breath and exhale, placing a smile onto my face. Fake- but no one seemed to notice the last few times. So no worries there. Walking up the stairs, an arm wraps around mine and I glance up to my right, frowning at the sudden physical contact. James. Yes, the one person I loathed the least. Or you could say - who I actually liked a bit. I grin and bump my shoulder with his as he guides me up to the entrance.

“Hello there gorgeous lady, haven’t seen you around a lot lately.”

“Well, can you blame me? These types of gatherings do not amuse me much. They rather support my boredom and make me want to drown in expensive alcohol. I don’t want to turn into an alcoholic.” He smirks at my statement but shakes his head.

“You’re a special one, you know that?” I nod, sighing dramatically. I look up front, where my father is already involved with other suit-wearing snobs.

“I know- I am.” I try sounding posh, but fail miserably, making us both laugh. I still have my arm wrapped around his’ as we get offered a drink and then he is off. Talking business, making connections. A life I would not want to live. That is why James and me could never be more than friends. Even though he might wants change my mind on that one day - I would never accept his advances.

“Well, well, well. If it is not little Miss (Y/L/N) Junior. How are things going?” I turn, taking another sip of champagne as I recognise the slimy man in front of me. His eyes wandering up and down my presence.

“Oscar- what a nice surprise-” My fake smile widens and I let him kiss my knuckles briefly - even though some of the potatoes I had for lunch earlier wanted to revisit. He must be double my age - I never thought of that. 50 at least.

“Would not be that much of a surprise to you if you would join our parties more often.” So it is his housing we are inside of right now. Good to know...

“Oh, Oscar. You know I am a busy woman. Cannot have fun all the time.” My smile starts to hurt my cheeks but I keep it up. Having held it for longer. My record is 24 minutes and 37 seconds. Yes, I know. Very impressive.

“But you never fail to make a grand entrance, what a gown on you - just lovely. Perfectly fitting for you, an extraordinary woman.” His sickly, slimy words feel like nails scratching on a chalk board but I hold back a flinch, nodding once. Not quite sure how to reply. I glance down at my drink, assumingly and very unconsciously having drank it all.

“Oh, would you look at that- I think I need a refill, it was lovely chatting-” “-Let me get you a new one.”

“No need, Oscar. I will just go myself.”

“Oh please, I insist-”

“-Here, take mine. I don’t drink Champagne.” I turn to my right, looking at the source of the new voice. A man I have not seen before stands there - a neat three piece in dark blue, adoring his well shaped physique. His dirty blonde hair combed back to perfection. He rearranges his glasses with his free hand before it disappears in the pocket of his trousers. The other one still holding out the glass to me. I realise I held a breath and nod at him, this time smiling genuinely.

“Thank you-” I drift off, not taking my eyes off his. A little staring contest going on. I accept the drink and take a sip. Not having blinked once. Just like him.

“-Raymond. Raymond Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Raymond Smith. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I know that.” I quirk an eyebrow at his answer, him staying silent though, a small smile grazing his lips.

“Well, why don’t I give you a little tour? We have a whole new balcony on the east wing-”

“-no, thank you Oscar. I just found a way more interesting activity.” I cut him off, not taking my eyes off of Raymond Smith. I see his lips twitch but he is holding back a smirk. Which makes my smile grow. I only hear a huff and grumbling.

I then break the eye contact, feeling rather lost now and walk past him, closely past him. My shoulder barely touching his jacket. I can feel his eyes on my back, making me sway my hips a tad more than usual. The things the right man can make you do.

I decide to sit down at an empty table and pick out some of the delicate canapés placed in the center. It looks like a mushroom tartlet and once inside my mouth I nod to myself. One thing that makes me come back to these parties is definitely the appetisers and the drinks. Lot’s of effort goes into them but no one seems to enjoy any. Either because they are busy laughing at jokes that are not funny or because they think others would judge them for eating. I learned to not care, ever, about what someone thought of me because I eat more than them. Their loss.

“Enjoying the food, I see.” I chew quickly and swallow thickly, holding a napkin to my lips as Raymond sits next to me at the round table, taking a tartlet himself. I hum.

“I do, cannot be mad about the food. I am a true gourmet, what can I say. But- you probably already knew that, did you not?” I grin at him, watching his chew and making eye contact with me once more. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No, did not. I will note it down though.” His teasing tone sparks my interest and I wonder how far I could go. Or what he works as. Why I have never seen him before.

“Tell me, Raymond Smith, who are you?” I turn toward him, leaning my arm on the table and tilting my head slightly, full attention on him. He wipes his hands at a napkin, eyes cast down as he seems deep in thought. Choosing his words carefully. One of the only men here who do.

“I don’t really exist. I just - like a good dinner party every now and then.” I bite my lip at his cheeky reply, trying to hold back all the things running through my mind.

“Can I guess?” I lift my head and he nods, gesturing for me to go ahead. He leans back slightly, probably expecting the most cliché answers anyway. So I think again, observing his posture and the drifting of his eyes every now and then. Back over to the big table. A couple people sitting there. He must be here either with his wife or colleague. I shake my head at the wife, he wouldn’t be sitting here with me if he had one.

“Well, seeing as you’re not here by yourself, you must be the right hand to someone or - maybe you are the kid of a big fish.” He smirks, nodding. One must be correct. I go with my first instinct. “-a right hand man it is.” I look back over to where he seemed to focus earlier. I do know a few of them. One being a partner to my father’s business. Another one the son of said partner. And then - no way. Micheal Pearson himself. The Micheal Pearson. Sticky bush Pearson. But Raymond would not be involved-

“-I see you figured it out.” My eyes snap back to Raymond and I close my mouth, licking my dry lips in the process. I tense up, not knowing if running would be an appropriate reaction. But then again - I never cared about appropriate behaviour that much.

“And I also see you’re taken aback.” It sounded more like a question really. But I only nod, sending him a small smile.

“It is not every day that I cross paths with true gangsters.”

“I will take that as a compliment. And just for your information-” He leans in closer, elbows on his thighs. “-there are a few more gangsters here than you would like to care.”

I gulp at his intense eyes, he leans back up and stands to his feet, smoothing out his suit and buttoning his jacket.

“Well, if you would excuse me, my duties as a right hand man are needed. Have a good rest of your evening, Miss (Y/L/N). Enjoy your dinner.”

“You too, Mister Smith.” He nods, walking off. I look after him, Mister and Misses Pearson walking off with him and exiting the building. I let out a breath I was holding and sink back into the chair. Not without being haunted by those icy blue orbs.

...

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More The Gentlemen Imagines

Full Masterlist

part two

#the gentlemen #Raymond smith x reader #Raymond smith #the gentlemen imagine #Raymond smith imagine #imagine

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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Yeah, forget side content, just gonna steam on ahead with the Sports Festival and onwards. I might not actually stop and start trying to do overarching plot stuff until ~chapter 100 (more specifically, post ch 97, the last chapter of the Kamino Arc) because then there will be enough material to actually like. Do stuff. Might also have something smaller after the Sports Festival since that’s ~chapter 50. Shrugs.

Anyways, onwards. Don’t you miss the days when the main trio of the series was Izuku, Tenya, and Ochako? Man, don’t I. :(

[No. 22 - That’s the Idea, Ochako!]

Character sheet! I am honestly laughing super hard at everything because just. ‘Very Ochako.’ Thank you, Horikoshi. A few things about the sheet:

1) god I love that her fingerpads are called soft. Like. Actual cat paw pad fingers going on here. just imagine if you like pressed one of them like you do with cat paw pads and like, she had cat claws that would extend. cute but also menacing.

2) strong legs. leg day squad. her, izuku, and iida all doing leg day workouts together tho... katsuki wishes he had the leg strength of those three y'all

3) That quirk description… that’s not quite how centrifugal forces work, but I mean. Superhero comic physics. At least he made an attempt at explaining her quirk.

Anyways, onto the actual chapter.

We open up in a staff meeting in a conference room at UA, with Tsukauchi presenting the results of the police investigations. He states that the one called Shigaraki has a quirk that allows him to disintegrate anything he touches. They (the police) have been through the list of men in their twenties and thirties in the quirk registry with no luck - and nothing turned up on the ‘warp gate’ user Kurogiri either. With neither registered, both using aliases, and no quirk records, they’re pretty much confirmed to be members of the underworld.

God sorry, I’m just distracted with the sheer size difference between Toshinori and Nedzu here.

What the fuck. Why did you put the largest person in the room next to the smallest?

Whatever. Snipe surmises that they know next to nothing, but they need to learn fast, or the leader of the villains, Shigaraki, will heal up and be back again. Toshinori is thoughtful as he mulls over the use of ‘leader’, which Nedzu catches quickly and inquires into. Probably still heavily banking on Toshinori’s instincts here since he was technically right about his bad feeling about the USJ just two days before.

I mean, how it has to sting Nedzu that all his state of the art systems meant to keep out intruders and alert UA to situations on campus failed at the critical moment, while Toshinori’s instincts on something being wrong had been absolutely on point and, if Nedzu had let him go, might have solved the situation that much sooner.

(I mean, there’s arguments for what could have happened if All Might did arrive early, so. Shrugs.)

And so we get into the segment I like to fondly consider a prime example of the fact that yes, Toshinori does in fact have a 6/6 intelligence score for a reason.

He brings up how nothing about the situation feels normal. It was an especially daring attack - and not just in the meticulous planning! Shigaraki had started going on about some ridiculous ideology… and though he didn’t say anything about his own quirk, he couldn’t keep himself from bragging about the nomu’s quirk. And when things didn’t go his way? He threw a tantrum. Toshinori then admits with grit teeth and clenched fist that the business about quirks was meant to provoke him, and that it did hurt.

Nedzu says that even so, it’s foolish for villains to reveal quirks in a battle against heroes and so waste the element of surprise.

Toshinori surmises his previous observations about Shigaraki - spouting a plausible yet deluded ideology, bragging about the toy he brought along, simple-mindedly assuming all would go his way. If they thought about how the attack was carried out, it seems clear that Shigaraki couldn’t hide his childish nature, the sense that he does what he wants, and then flat-out calls him a man-child.

Vlad King sums up Toshinori’s words as Shigaraki being a kid with too much power. Midnight adds on how Shigaraki might never have received general quirk counseling in elementary school; Vlad wonders whether that even matters.

Tsukauchi steps back into the conversation to give the rest of the arrest results - a total of 72 villains were apprehended at the USJ. He states that all of them were just back-alley thugs, but the question is why so many of them would agree to follow this ‘man-child.’ He points out that modern society is saturated with heroes, so small-time villains like them, who always get kicked around, might have been drawn in by that sort of pure, unaffected evil.

Toshinori having a flashback here, though his expression… I wonder if he’s having doubts already. And honestly, that flashback bit has me wonder just how common ‘uncontrollable’ quirks really are… and what COUNTS as ‘uncontrollable’ in their society.

To avoid a longer derail, Tsukauchi finishes up by saying that thanks to the heroes, the police can focus on their investigation. They’ll expand their search and devote efforts to apprehending the perpetrators.

Nedzu finishes out the scene by musing over the use of ‘man-child,’ stating that in one way, Shigaraki is a lot like their students. He has potential to grow, if only he had a proper mentor to follow. It’s difficult to think about these things.

And so we shift scenes back over to 1a. I doubt this sports festival talk is happening at the same time as the staff meeting, if only because Aizawa should have been at said staff meeting. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there at all and the homerooms were meant to handle themselves that morning? Wait, hold on-

That clock reads 8:25. This is happening during the homeroom period, which means that the other classes are having independant homeroom. Which also means it’s no surprise that Aizawa isn’t at that meeting, because he’s busy hobbling to his class to announce the sports festival. He probably had to be caught up on the meeting stuff later.

Anyways. The class is surprised over the announcement of the sports festival, someone calling it ‘totally ordinary’ while another (I think Mineta) questions whether Aizawa’s sure about this, since they just had that villain attack. Aizawa states that it’s necessary to demonstrate that UA’s crisis management protocols are sound - or that’s the thinking, anyways. There will be five times the police presence of previous years. Oh, and also the sports festival is the greatest opportunity the class will get. It’s not something that can be cancelled over a few villains.

Mineta (again?) asks if he’s sure about that, muttering about how it’s ‘just a stupid sports festival.’ Izuku seems completely horrified at the idea that Mineta might have never seen UA’s sports festival, which Mineta hastens to correct - he has, that’s not what he meant.

I’m sorry just. That face. I can’t with this kid. Jdsjlgkd.

Also, we finally get to the page that had me double-take when I got to it because, well.

So yeah, apparently the BNHA timeline didn’t have certain current events happened that would force the cancellation of the Olympics. (I mean, obviously Hori had no way of knowing the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo would be cancelled, but it’s still like a huge sign of how long this series has been running that this is here.)

Moving on, basically the above surmises for readers that the sports festival is as big an event to them as the Olympics are to us. So basically, super hype. Momo notes that all the nation’s top heroes will be watching and scouting. Kaminari adds on how the heroes will be looking to hire the hero students as sidekicks after they graduate. Jirou makes a cutting retort how a lot of those sidekicks never manage to go solo, stuck as sidekicks forever, before telling Kaminari that’ll be him.

Shot through the heart.

(Also a total aside I just realized: current manga events likely mean there will be no sports festival for 2a. I mean, I would say the events happening there are large enough in scope that UA just doesn’t have the inclination or interest in broadcasting vital information the villains could use. And like, no scouting, no internships, no purpose for it.

And I mean, even if they did, would any of the kids even be able to focus on doing their best? God knows how stressed and nervous they all must be with how society is basically collapsing outside the school.)

Aizawa tells the class that they’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if they’re picked up by a big-name hero. However, their time is limited. They need to show the pros what they’re made of to make futures for themselves. This happens once a year, so they have three shots. If they want to be heroes, this is an event they can’t miss.

The whole class seems to be taking this seriously, but Izuku…

Well, he doesn’t seem as enthused as expected.

Anyways, I’ll cut it there and leave the rest for next time, since there’s a time break in here anyways. It’s not quite halfway, but eh.

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gebtoons · 3 years

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my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably)

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk.

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense.

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow.

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on.

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on.

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen).

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on.

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so.

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying)

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense.

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on.

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me).

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go.

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it.

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason.

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me.

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?)

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it.

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

#bare a pop opera #bapo #me speaks #i stg there is no real way to make this timeline make sense #a whole lotta this is #it makes sense bro trust me bro #also apologies if this is hard to read i am not very good at phrasing things over text #or at all

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ennui-gt · 3 years

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Here it is. A Piece Of Borrower Content Written Entirely In Stream Of Consciousness:

AN: so this is incomplete and very…needs revisions to the timeline to incorporate some things I added later! It’s the original universe that Mira’s from! I edited it like Slightly to just change Ross’s name to Ross (if u see Max anywhere that’s his old one I just felt like changing it so that’s just him but different. Anyway) Everything's under the readmore tab, cheers!

The Library Fairy:

Basic Plot (Chrono, comic starts from human perspective abt the ‘legend of the library fairy’ ig maybe. Nothing here is permanent cept the characterization)

Part A

1- Mira is borrower currently chillin in a college library

2- She lives off of the cafe on the second floor nd reads lots and lots of stuff about everything when the upper floors close (lower floor open 24/7 but upper floors r vacant p much after 12:00 AM)

3- she starts getting increasingly curious about human stuff cos she’s literate nd books r pry neat

4- it starts one night when she spots an unattended notebook and a half eaten blueberry muffin, nd it’s 12:30 so nobody’s coming back in atm (it’s the 80s so no laptops for the plebians quite yet)

5- so she goes ‘welp’ nd takes part of the muffin, then sees the work on the page and goes ‘hmmmm this is incorrect’ so she helps our and leaves notes here n there to point the kid in the right direction and puts down some book refs for further study bcos at this point she’s been there for 2 years and she knows where most things are

6- she stays behind to see if the human comes back for it, hidden in a hidey hole near the desk

7- human comes in, sees notebook, practically melts w relief nd stuffs it in his bag

8- next day human comes back nd leaves nother notebook and a cookie, along w a hidden camera

9- Mira goes ‘o boy, this a trap, innit’

10- Mira then decides ‘eh whatever I haven’t had contact w anyone in years now so I might as well’

11- she steals the camera film nd leaves a lil scrap of paper saying ‘nice try ;)’ on it

12- student comes back, sees paper, goes ‘dammit’, then leaves note addressed to the ‘library fairy’ and another cookie, as well as more of their work for her to help with

13- bout a decade goes by and now the “Library Fairy” is an urban myth, it’s currently 2003 so she’s also wound up on the school’s unofficial Wikipedia page under ‘local cryptids’

14- most library employees know of her but they don’t go looking out of fear stemming from superstitions bout her, somehow the legend grew from ‘can’t be photographed’ to ‘a student once saw her and died that day’

15- there’s now a small shrine devoted to her where ppl bring offerings hoping to get good grades in return, sometimes they will leave papers for her to proofread nd stuff

16- new prof (named Alexei) finds online article thinks he Knows What’s Up bcos he had a borrower friend as a kid, but they left when borrower’s fam found out about them knowing each other

17- he leaves note wedged in one of her secret entrances behind outlet, asking if she can meet w him at some point

18- Mira, already In it, goes ‘Okay. Alright. This has gone on for long enough. Time to go and never return’ but ofc she’s curious as all hell and like she decides she will at least honor the guy’s request for a convo b4 she goes, but on her terms and w/o speaking face 2 face

19- they Talk in the library after hours, bcos he paid off the janitor to let him stay after hours nd most of the student employees recognize him as a prof nd leave him alone

20- they talk again for every subsequent night

21- she uhhhh finally decides to reveal herself nd prays that her hunch was right nd he won’t try to grab her or anything

22- he doesn’t but she’s nervous so she winds up gettin caught in her own climbing rope like idiot, is now dangling from ceiling in tangled mess

23- he stifles chuckle nd she says smthn sarcastic

24- he moves closer and offers to untangle her

25- she’s like ‘please’

26- so he do, but her grip on the rope slips nd he has to catch her

26- so now she’s in his hand and he just sets her down and now he’s a bumbling embarrassed mess bcos he said he wasn’t going to hold her and he just did and o dear pls forgib him

28- nd she’s like ‘dude u just saved my life it’s fine ur fine chill’

29- internally she’s going HOLY FUCK AAAAAAA but externally, her human’s already worked up enough as it is so she’s gotta b the level headed one

29.5- after a while they both kinda get used to each other more, he gets tenure, they celebrate, some more stuff happens, Aleksei got married (not to Mira, Mira hasn’t actually rly thought about being in a relationship w anyone cos she’s laser focused on gaining as much knowledge as possible)

30- eventually Alexei’s like ‘hey so I’m dean of faculty for the biotech branch now uhhhh would u like actual job teaching students? Cos, uh, you can do it remotely thru online lectures n stuff, no in person interaction, and I uh was just kinda wondering—‘

31- she’s like ‘yes. Yes!!! LET ME HELP PEOPLE OFFICIALLY KINDA’

32- so now she’s a professor, and has revealed her Secret a few times here n there to a number of the faculty, nd she has recorded her own findings in a personal journal

33- ‘humans will treat u like a human if they think ur human first. The kids call it ‘catfishing’’

34- enter Ross, an mall goth who accidentally tripped headfirst into a premed program

35- Mira’s favorite field of study is bio so naturally she’s his prof for a majority of his classes

36- being the good boy that he is, he now knows Mira’s secret. There is an Entire Chapter on him finding out and legit just continuing their conversation as if everything was normal bcos he thought that was how he was supposed to handle the situation

37- then she says ‘u can ask questions, u know’ he’s like OH THANK FUCK CAUSE I HAVE SEVEN HUNDRED OF THOSE

38- and now he kinda knows what to look for in terms of ‘do borrowers live here check yes or no’

39-in his apartment, the answer is yes and he mistakenly kinda stumbles upon the mom one night when he wakes up in the middle of the night for Snack and opts to pretend like its not happening. Unfortunately the thing she was trying 2 borrow (piece of crumb cake for Son Boy’s birthday) is the thing he wants 2 eat so he’s like “uh. ‘Scuse me, ma’am.” and he peels back the saran wrap on the other side of the plate, takes piece, nd then leaves some there for her

40-so now the woman is like ‘welp guess it time 2 Leave’

.1- she and husband Talk

.2-they decide it best 2 go

.3-theyre Packing

.4-lil bab Ellie confused

.5-hawk attacke

.6-cut to Ross

41- Ross also happens to work at a bar and he goes outside for a break

43- he finds smal child—smol smal—on the sidewalk and said child is missing an arm, nd has lost a lot of blood, so he’s uhhhhh Losing It highkey

43.5-parents r nowhere 2 b seen, but the hawk is nearby and circling. Ross gets an idea of what just happened

44- he up and leaves work, thankfully his apartment is above the shop so he jumps up the fire escape w the child and

45- he make tourniquet

46- he calls Mira nd asks her 2 come over to ASAP. he’s A Mess at this point

47- it is Very touch and go, kid needs blood, Mira is the only viable donor so she’s just gotta pray that the blood type is fine and won’t kill him

48- and then eventually they manage 2 stave infection thru antibiotics properly dosed to his size, Mira does Math and Prays basically

49- ‘bout a month in, kid wakes up

50- kid doesn’t rember much since he’s only 3

51- hes v scared of Ross at first but over time he gets used 2 the human

52- kid (elliot) starts 2 call Ross ‘dad’ after a while

53- Ross: *internal screaming but in a good way*

54- the end kinda for now

Part 2

A- New Borrowers In The Building

—three of em. paranoid dad, mom, nd daughter that’s Elliot’s age so he’s pumped

B- Elliot offers them a place 2 stay briefly

C- he knows by now bout like, how borrowers don’t typically interact w humans and Auntie Mira’s a bit of a weird case so he just doesn’t tell em bout his dad being the human

D- the kid finds out first nd doesn’t tell the parents, but they figure it out later kinda and think that it’s a ‘o god he’s being kept as a pet’ sitch so they’re >:| abt it

E- they move out and try to take Elliot w them (by force bcos they think he’s brainwashed) but he escapes and makes it to Ross, who’s like “uhhhhhh”

F- and the mom come out the hole near the counter n starts yelling at Ross, who is…kinda used to it since Mira brings in ppl who need help from time 2 time and they typically don’t react well when they’re lucid enough to understand what’s going on. He’s just not used to being questioned about his own kid

G- so they’re like “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING WITH HIM”

H- and he’s like “r…raising him???”

I- and Ellie steps up and he’s like “this is my dad. I decided he was my dad when I was three. He’s being a good parent”

J- and Ross is like “yeah what he said. I’m a good parent.”

K- Ross is riding that high til the end of fucking time but like back to the story at hand

L- this is when the husband comes out nd is like “lissen. wifey. ily but that is a very big human and he hasn’t grabbed us yet so let’s count our blessings and gtfo”

M- but she’s like “uh no we stay until I’m sure Elliot is Safe and fucking Sound”

N- so they stay for dinner nd stick around a little longer.

O- Val (the kid) gets closer 2 Elliot and also Ross a bit

P- Mira shows once or twice, first time she shows up they’re like “oh god it’s the crazy doctor lady this all makes sense now” (bcos Mira does check up on as many borrower families as possible in her free time so word has got around by now Of her, and the number by which to contact her in case her services r needed)

Q- After a month or so, then they decide to leave bcos they’re like “look we get that ur son is ur son and he only has one arm and in our profession that is kind of a death sentence but we can’t have our kid getting used to dealing w humans who know about our existence” so they go and leave on a kind of sour note bcos Ellie can do anything he wants to do just as well as any other borrower Thank You Very Much and Ross is ready to fite anyone who thinks otherwise

R- Elliot starts trying 2 b more independent, basically from now on he’s like ‘I can do everything my Damn Self Thanks’

S- but uh he does it to a point where he’s going out of the way to endanger himself

T- so they get into a fite about it and ross Yells and Elliot is like ‘kthxbye’

U- and the boi just. Fuckin bolts. Runs Away. Ross is a Mess, he starts smoking again (he quit cold turkey the day he took Elliot in) to curb the depression, he’s jus. Not doin good, worried that his son is dead and the last time they talked it’d ended badly

V- FREEDOM!!!1! Except Ellie doesn’t kno how to take care of himself so it’s a rough month or so and then he runs into some other borrowers livin in their own town in the wild ig, chillin, being hella independent, and he’s like “uh yes ofc I will join u, I was w my dad for a while but.........” he neither confirms nor denies that his dad’s dead but everyone kinda just assumes.

Part 3

W-anyway a year goes by and then the borrower group gets hit hard w some kind of sickness ig. Elliot gets it too he’s basically incapacitated n drifting in and out of lucidity. So. They contact the weird crazy doctor lady who hangs around humans, a.k.a. Mira, and she’s like “oh. fuck. I know this kid.” bcos she does, u kno, and she jus treats em all for their ailment and shows them how to make antibiotic poultice thing in case smthn like it happens again. Mold. Penicillin is basically what it is

X-she and Elliot hav a Chat (Mira basically yells at him a lot) once he’s fixed up and he decides he’s gonna visit his dad but he makes it very clear that he is a Grown Up (he’s not, he’s literally sixteen), and he is living on his own now

Y- he agrees to stay for a week tho since he misses his home a lot tbh and Ross is just. Over the fucking moon to know he’s ALIVE, he’s not gonna fuck up their relationship by insisting that he stay. Or like, by keeping him ofc he would never

Z- unfortunately the borrower community put two and two together and figured out his dad’s human so they have his stuff packed up when he gets back w mira, who’s ready to go the fuck off on them

End 1:

-Ellie is living at Ross’s place atm and hopeful about the future basically. He eventually will go off on his own but he’ll keep in contact w his dad and stuff

Part C.5

55- few yrs later

56- elliot is Adult now he does adult borrower stuff

57- he moves out

58- finds nice borrower gf (her name’s Tess)

59- doesn’t tell her about his dad being human but talks about his dad a LOT

60- so when she asks to meet said father he’s just like “uh. Maybe we don’t do that actually”

61- and she’s like “y tho”

62- and he’s like “bcos”

63- anyway she decides to look into it cos she knows he goes to see his dad nd keep in touch but his dad is allegedly “a recluse who lives in the big scary human’s walls to avoid other ppl”

64- which is. Not true in the slightest tbqh he’s def not an introvert he’s just a workaholic and he Is the big scary human

65- anywho they run into Val and her wife and she’s like “how’s Ross been?” And Elliot is acting Very Suspish so she, being Smart, calls it immediately and is like “oh shit u haven’t told her yet have u”

66- Tess: “told me what”

67- Val: “El’s dad is a human, bro.”

68- Tess: “I’m sorry?”

69- this results in a Big Fight and they separate for like, a month. Elliot blames Val bcos he’s being irrational and doesn’t wanna admit to the fact that lying to his girlfriend for over a year was Real Bad Actually, but over time he’s like ‘yeah it’s my fault sry for snapping at u’ cos he works thru his emotions n stuff

70- Eventually gf comes back cos she’s like “ok so. I understand why you lied to me about your dad. It was a dick move but I do get it and I still care about you a lot. I would like. To meet him.”

80- this is a lie she does not want to meet him she is doing this bcos she does not want to lose Elliot and that outweighs the fear of his dad

81- so they go to meet him but she’s just kinda. Behind the wall at first like “that’s a crazy big human this is crazy ur crazy it’s time to gO”

82- Val is also there bcos she hasn’t seen Ross in a while

83- they eventually coax her out of hiding

84- and by that I mean Val picks her up and drags her out into the open by force bcos she basically freezes up the second she catches sight of Ross and Val’s like “u didn’t come all this way for nothing, bich”

85- they have a Painfully Awkward First Meeting, Tess is trying her best but oh god he’s just too fucking. Larg. Ellie ur dad too big

86- tbh tho the ice kinda breaks after Ellie and Ross get into a fight over smthn stupid (im thinking Elliot grumbles bout Ross’s hair being unruly and he’s worried that mira’s using it like a personal storage system again and Ross is like “I’ve been keeping better track of that actually” and then like a little line of paper clips and a few hand-bound notebooks tied together w some string fall out of his fucking mane and he’s like “I can explain”

87- “dad you can’t keep letting her use your hair like a fucking NEST”

88- Tess is laughing now cos god damn this was not what she was expecting

89- that’s it the end it ends w Tess laughing at them being idiots good times r had by all

Uhhhh that’s it so far. I have More but it’s kinda jumbled rn and I need to fit stuff in places. Anyway.

#was gonna make this into a comic lawl #if I like actually manage to get off my ass over the coming weeks I probably will be able to do that! but yeah #also this was once posted b4 and I deleted it but it’s back now say hellow #Library Fairy #oc: Mira #oc: Ross #oc: Elliot #oc: Tess #oc: Val #oc: Alexei #anyway yeah here it is behold #the uhhhhh most slice of life thing I have ever created

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confusedgoldenflower · 3 years

Text

There is No Glorious Purpose

DISCLAIMER: This is a Loki Show re-write which means I do not own the original show but some direct quotes will be used, it will not align perfectly with the cannon of the original show, and it will also be written the way I think it should have gone seeing as it was 2012 Loki who just went through Thor 1, Thanos' clutches and Avengers 1.

This is not a Loki/Sylvie or Loki-cest fic.

If you don't like, then please hit that back button and have a nice day. You don't have to agree with me, but I do expect common human decency.

For anyone remaining, please enjoy!

Chapter 1: Blue Time and Space

“Friend, I think there’s been a mistake; I am Loki of Asgard and you will regret this. I am burdened with glorious purpose, I stand at the right hand of Thanos.” The words were bitter in his mouth but then again, so was the bile that he dry-heaved up during his reconditioning.

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” B-15 waved it off, at least the letters on the helmet was the only thing pertaining to the person’s identity after they came through the yellow, rectangular prism. He watched her closely as they neared, fists clenched and fully aware of how far away the Tesseract had ended up. The cerebral recalibration the Hulk so kindly dealt him did nothing to deter him from his secret goal.

“What infinity stone conjured that?”

B-15 stopped, their own subordinates armed but waiting for their leader’s response. Then she laughed.

“No, no, it’s from the TemPad.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ll see soon enough, now, come on, I don’t wanna have to give the whole spiel again.” B-15 came at him. The baton-like weapon she wielded hurt. But he was Asguardian. He also had use of his magic now with the restraints in ruins. Twin daggers parried the baton thereafter. He came close to overwhelming her more than a few times but her subordinates always stepped in.

“Agh!” It was humiliating to be overpowered by not only a simple blow to his back but also to admit it.

B-15 smiled down at him, “let’s go, and reset th-.”

“Don’t touch that!” The soldier picking up the Tesseract and staring at it like a confused child paid him no mind.

“Ok, Variant, let’s go.” B-15 slapped something on his neck, his body involuntarily jumped the opposite way. He was dragged out of the sand and towards another yellow rectangular prism. Another soldier grabbed something that resembled an old Midguardian lantern. They passed behind him and he could not manage to twist his neck enough to watch them. Then yellow.

He involuntarily gasped at the non-consensual setting change, pain flaring in a memory. A shriveled stomach flipped. But… His brows furrowed as he soundlessly analysed himself and his sadir in respect to the surroundings. I can’t feel him… I can’t hear him.

The two soldiers carrying him wasted no time in dragging him across the floor of the large room. It too reminded him of past Midguardian styles…. But he didn’t miss the Tesseract being turned to the man behind the desk.

“Where is this? Where are you taking me?”

B-15 laughed from in front of him, “your trial, Variant.”

“Why, and what is that anyway?”

Next thing he knew, he was pushed into a room with a robot, “hello?” It said something before lasering his clothes off. He gaped in horror as his fine Aguardian leather was destroyed and he was left there in the nude. The robot smiled at him in some sort of sadistic glee as his scars and healing wounds were flaunted like war-torn cadavers against his unusually pale skin. The floor disappeared.

He landed. He folded. He panted.

“Please sign this.”

His head whipped up to the man he could barely see over the stack of paperwork on the desk. A gulp, a deep breath and Loki was the vision of regal honor. Silently, he noted that he had somehow been clothed and thanked whatever power granted him that.

“What is this?”

The man looked at him with an exhausted droll stare, “everything you have ever said.” He grabbed a paper off the printer and laid it on top. Loki nodded slightly, then signed. The world blurred.

“Please step through.”

“Pardon?” The room was slow to come into focus.

“Jotnar, please step through.” Jotnar? He hadn’t noticed his glamour having failed him. The sedir he had so ardently loved and utilized and developed was a small, twisted ball in his center. He was locked in a cage.

“Wha--how…?”

“Magic is no good in the TVA, now please, step through.”

A red-eyed stare remained on the agent as Loki stepped through the unconnected threshold. Nothing happened. Another bout of vertigo and he was being told and none-too-kindly to take a number.

“For what, what is all this?” His blue hands gesticulated some as he addressed the man.

“Take. A. Number.”

Loki grit his teeth but he stepped to the small machine attached to the stakes cordoning off where the line was. He stepped into that small, simple maze. It was another large room stylized after the later American, Midguardian twentieth century. Even scrapers looked better as they drifted in the expanse of space. He slowly meandered up towards the window behind a very loud human.

“My dad is on the board of Goldman Sachs! One call and your whole job is privatized! What even is the ticket for, huh--aaaahhhhhggg!” Said human leapt out of his skin and screamed when he caught sight of the large blue alien. Red eyes merely gazed down at him without much agency.

“Howdy, welcome to the Time Variance Authority,” the bulbous screens lit up and an American, Midguardian southern drawl spoke happily through the speakers. Loki turned his attention to the screens as something finally began explaining things though his entire being made the unanimous decision that he did not like the talking orange clock.

“I'm Miss Minutes, and it's my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes. So let's not waste another minute. Settle in, sharpen your pencils, and check this out. Long ago, there was a vast multiversal war. Countless unique timelines battled each other for supremacy, nearly resulting in the total destruction of...well, everything. But then, the all-knowing Time-Keepers emerged, bringing peace by reorganizing the multiverse into a single timeline, the Sacred Timeline. Now, the Time-Keepers protect and preserve the proper flow of time for everyone and everything. But sometimes, people like you veer off the path the Time-Keepers created. We call those Variants. Maybe you started an uprising, or were just late for work. Whatever it was, stepping off your path created a nexus event, which, left unchecked, could branch off into madness, leading to another multiversal war. But, don't worry, to make sure that doesn't happen, the Time-Keepers created the TVA and all its incredible workers. The TVA has stepped in to fix your mistake and set time back on its predetermined path. Now that your actions have left you without a place on the timeline, you must stand trial for your offenses. So sit tight, and we'll get you in front of a judge in no time. Just make sure you have your ticket, and you'll be seen by the next available attendant. For all time.”

The workers responded to the screen, “always.”

Out of one dark order and into another, Loki thought and forced down rising bile.

“--Hey, I asked for a ticket and he didn’t give me one! I--ahhhh!....” The loud human was hit with the shining, golden end of one of those batons and literally melted into nothingness. Loki clutched the ticket between his fingers tighter.

“Next.”

He stepped up to the window and offered up the small scrap of paper. The next while found him bound in chains yet again. He knew a Midguardian courtroom when he saw one, and the one he was shoved into was more like a morgue.

“Next case, please,” the judge said from her elevated chair, heads above anyone else, but below three ugly “modern art” heads. How could it be that he could even miss Thanos’ disgusting chin?

“Laufeyson. Variant L1130, AKA Loki Laufeyson, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89. How do you plead?” She continued. Laufeyson, how preposterous, it sparked an itch to kill the Jotnar king again.

“Madam,” he began with all his silver tongue, “a god does not plead.”

“Are you guilty or not guilty, sir?” She was completely unfazed by his appearance, much like her underlings.

He thought for a moment, “guilty of some offense against this Sacred Timeline of yours? Absolutely not. You must have the wrong culprit.”

A brow raised at him, “oh, really? And who should we have?”

“The Avengers, I suspect. I came into possession of the Tesseract because they traveled through time--undoubtedly in some desperate play to avoid my ascent as God Ki--....” He couldn’t feel Thanos anymore, so what was the point? Wasn’t… he… free?

“That’s quite an accusation.”

“The cologne of two Iron Morta--er, Tony Starks is quite difficult to miss. They are your Time Criminals.” He opened his mouth again to bargain; to survive but….

“We’re not here to talk about the Avengers.”

“No?”

“No. That was supposed to happen, you escaping was not.”

“Pardon? According to whom?”

“The Time Keepers.”

“Ah… the three faces behind you, I presume? Do they happen to be open for conference?”

“No, they’re quite busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Dictating the proper flow of time.”

“So then, what do you do, Madam?”

“Dictate the proper flow of time according to their dictations. How do you plead?”

The silver tongue was heavy. His back sent shocks of pain through him especially after the re-injuring the soldiers dealt. Chains often found their way around his wrists and never had it hurt so much as in the last year. He closed his eyes. He may have been able to assemble those Midguardian fools the way he had intended, the time traveling proved that, but what else was left for him? Just more fire, and lies, and deceit. I had so wanted to see Asguard again.

“The court finds you guilty, and I sentence you to be reset. Next case, please!”

“I raise an objection!” Loki opened his eyes at the interruption as the judge sighs.

“You may approach the bench.”

“Hey, there, blue-raspberry.” The older human man made a shy sort of wave motion at Loki as he passed with a folder under his arm.

“If you're thinking what I think you are, it's a bad idea,” the judge addressed the man.

“Okay, I'm just chasing a hunch.”

“Anything goes sideways, it's on you.”

“Okay. I feel like I'm always looking up to you. I like it. It's appropriate.” Loki knew when he was witnessing groveling. Norns knew he had to do it enough times in his life just to save his brother’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked after the judge permitted Loki’s custody to the newcomer. Said agent was walking Loki around some halls. Vertigo viscously hit when he tried to remember every twist and turn.

“Oh, I’m Agent Mobius, by the way,” Mobius cheerily said as he shuffled the two into an elevator.

“And you’re not taking me someplace to ‘reset’ me?”

“No, no, no, that was the place you just were. Ravon--I mean Judge Renslayer can be pretty brutal, but I’m just taking you some place to talk.”

“To talk?” His brow raised.

Mobius looked up at his blue stature without a care in the world, “yeah, and we know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie.” A hand mimed a moving mouth. His brows lowered into a slight scowl.

“We seem to have different understandings of my persons.”

“Well, I am an expert on Lokis.”

“... Loki-s?”

“Yeah. You’ll catch up.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Hard to tell, time moves differently here in the TVA.”

He was led out again and followed the human past several large openings in the wall of the narrow hallway that lead down into double-doored rooms. One, he couldn’t help but step towards. Then found himself outside of the elevator again.

“Ope, can’t do that, sorry.”

He stared at Mobius who was now several yards away, “magic and time works differently here.”

“Oh, it’s not magic,” Mobius held up a small device in his fingers, “it’s science.”

“Magic is science.” Loki stated plainly as he walked towards what he assumed Mobius was indicating as the destination, back straight.

“Haha, ok, Loki.” The agent opened the door for him. He nodded in thanks as was polite.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Mobius stripped him of his chains and cuffs, “have a seat.”

Slowly, he did as asked. He could have wept as his back was finally rested.

“Not big on trust, are you?” Mobius asked as he snapped a sodapop can open. He rejected a second that was offered to him by the agent.

“Well?”

“Trust is a twisted road.”

“Haha, nice one, let’s make that one into a button.” Mobius began fiddling with a machine on the table they sat at in the middle of the darkened room.

“If the TVA overseas all of time and space, then how have I never heard of you before?”

“‘Cause you never needed to. You’ve always lived within your set path; the story you’re meant to play a part in.”

“I live within the path and story of my choosing,” Loki responded bitterly on impulse.

Mobius laughed again, “well, there’s the lie, Loki, it’s not your story.” Mobius looked him in the eye as the machine projected an image onto the blank wall.

“So I think we could start with a little cooperation, hm? I specialize in the pursuit of dangerous variants--particularly dangerous ones unlike you. I’ve got some questions for you, and if you answer them honestly, then maybe I can give you something you want. You wanna get outta here right? So, we’ll start there. Should you get out, what will you do?”

Would Thanos know? Of course Thanos would know…. Of course Thanos would come after him for deserting….

“Take over Midguard, AKA Earth?” Mobius interrupted the silence, “finish what you started maybe? Be king?”

The simple answer slipped off his tongue, “I was born to be a king.”

“Happily ever after then? A nice feather in your cap?”

“Then the Nine Realms. Then all of space.”

“Ooooh, ‘Loki, King of Space,’ haven’t heard that one before.”

“Mock me if you dare.”

Mobius chuckled again, “I’m not. Honestly, I’m a fan; your biggest. I guess I’m just curious why someone with such range would settle for just ruling whether it be Presidential or Kingly.”

“... The first and most oppressive lie was that of freedom, and someone will always be above while masses lie below.”

“How does that one go?” Mobius had his nose in his paperwork.

“For nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. There's a fork in every road, yet the wrong path always taken.”

“Good. Yeah. You said ‘nearly every living thing,’ so I'm guessing you don't fall into that category?”

“All of us fall into some category.”

“Oh, riddles. Love that. Anyway, a sampling of your greatest hits.”

The machine whirled and he was met again with the annoying Midguardian heroes and his brother after they bested him in New York, “if it’s all the same to you… I’ll have that drink now.”

“That just happened,” he declared.

“It's funny, for someone born to rule, you sure do lose a lot. You might even say it's in your nature.”

“The last person who said that to me did not live long enough to regret it.”

“Phil Coulson?” The clip played and Thor’s “no!” rang out.

“Didn’t the Avengers come together to literally avenge him by defeating you?”

Loki kept his face schooled diplomatically blank against the small bit of triumph he felt rising. Yes, they had come together, a force to be reckoned with especially after Loki’s clever engineering of their test-run.

“Little solace for a dead man,” he said instead.

“Do you enjoy hurting people? Making them feel small? Making them feel afraid? Making them feel little?” Mobius looked at him with an expression all too familiar from a certain one-eyed Aesir.

“Your little games won’t work on me.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think--.”

“I know what I am.”

“A murderer?”

“A liberator.” The memory of the Other’s lightning bolt sent a shock wave through his system. He was removed from them, but he could always be put back.

“Of eyeballs maybe,” Mobius scoffed and played the clip.

“Just look at that smile, you’re enjoying it.”

Yet another clip rolled and a wealthy crowd’s screams of horror rang out. He was the center of attention. No one in that moment had attention above him… but that blue still glinted in his emerald eyes.

“Did you enjoy hurting them?”

“I don’t have to play this game; I’m a god, you dull creature.”

“Of mischief? Right… I really see that shining through.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Mobius sighed, “let’s talk about your escapes.”

“You're really good at doing awful things, and then just getting away. This is one of my favorites.”

A plane’s PA system from the 1970’s dinged, “from the flight deck, Captain William A. Scott, Northwest Orient Airlines 305, on schedule to land in Seattle. Flight time today, approximately….”

The projection showed him from an outsider’s perspective on a plane, well dressed with his hair slicked back and shades covering his eyes. His past self spoke to the flight attendant.

“Bourbon and soda?”

“Thank you,” past Loki gladly accepted the drink.

“Absolutely. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“I suppose we'll find out, won't we?” A note was handed off to her and she chuckled only in social politeness. A clear misunderstanding between them.

“Uh, Miss?”

“Yes, Mr. Cooper?”

“You might want to take a look at that note,” past Loki leaned forward and whispered, looking the woman in the eye over his sunglasses, “I have a bomb.” Her smile dropped. The scene skipped to when he had emptied the plane of all other passengers and was back in the air strapping a parachute to himself.

“Oh, this is the good part,” Mobius whispered.

“See you again someday,” past Loki says, still politely as he accepts the bag of $200,00 USD from the unnerved flight attendant. He had often wondered how she had recovered from the stupid, oafish ploy; he did his best not to harm anyone but he understood how it could have been quite the scare.

Past Loki turned and walked toward the tail of the plane, “brother, Heimdall, you better be ready.” He mumbleed before jumping out and getting collected by the Bifrost.

“I can't believe you were D.B. Cooper. Come on!” Mobius moved in his seat in a way reminiscent of an excited toddler.

“I was young, and I lost a bet to Thor. Where was the TVA when I was meddling with these affairs of men?”

“We were right there with you, just surfing that Sacred Timeline. So anyway, escapes… and a little psychobabble. What is it you think you’re really running from?”

He held Mobius’ stare. Time Keeper’s approval or lackthereof seemed utterly arbitrary, and the agent’s “fan-ing” of him lacking.

“Enough of this nonsense--.” Loki moved to stand but was hit yet again by vertigo and back in the chair.

“Back in your cage. See? I can play the heavy keys too.” Mobius tapped a finger on his own neck.

“What is it that you actually want?”

“I want you to be honest about why you do what you do.”

“This,” Loki motioned a blue arm towards the projection, “means you have seen my life, yes?”

“Yup. Back and forward, and variant and not. I’ve seen it all.”

“Then you must already know.”

“All I seek is a deeper understanding of the fearsome God of Mischief. What makes Loki tick?”

“Yet you have seen my life and all variations of it.”

“I wanna hear it from the ol’ horse’s mouth.”

“The satisfaction of my own ends,” he finally settled. “Is this your psychobabble? You, the great arbiters of power in the universe.”

Mobius nodded, “yup, we are!”

“Yet my path, my story and my actions are not my own? A semblance of free will belongs to every creature.”

“Hahaha, good one buddy. Look, this one’ll fire you up.” Loki stamped out the pain he had only otherwise felt when he was dropped from the Rainbow Bridge. He stamped down it all. And oh, it was easy. Simple. It was his simpler state of being.

The projection changed to Stuttgart and the projection-surrounded square of kneeling people, “the bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power….”

“Precisely. I was... I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it will be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen. Or because you or the Time Variance Authority permitted me to. Honestly, you are pathetic. You are an irrelevance. A detour. A footnote to my ascent.”

Mobius giggled and scoffed, “you done? You’re gonna start taking things seriously.”

His body tensed. But all that happened was a twist of a wrist and the projection changing. He was faced with himself, bound and chained in Asguardian restraints with his glamor intact and cheekily knocking his ankles together to fill the hall of the All Father with the ringing of the metal clanging together.

“If you hadn't picked up the Tesseract, you would have been taken to a cell on Asgard.” Mobius informed him.

“Loki,” a familiar honey voice said in the ringing silence.

This future Loki addressed the woman in beautiful clothes, “hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?”

Her face stayed grave as he continued with undetected fake cheerfulness, “please, don't make this worse.”

“This is the future?” Loki asked.

“Yup, like you mighta picked up, the TVA doesn’t just know your past, we know your whole life as it’s meant to be. Think of it as comforting.” Loki grimaced at that. Comfort? He did not know such a thing. The scene skipped and he recognised the dungeons.

“And am I not your mother?” A projection of his mother asked.

Future Loki chuckled bitterly, “no, you’re not.” Loki felt the need to claw off the blue skin.

“Hmm,” his mother responded, “always so perceptive to everyone but yourself.”

“And then the Dark Elves attack the palace, and you think you send them to Thor.” Mobius chimed again.

“You might wanna take the stairs to the left.” Future Loki says as most other prisoners are set free.

“But instead, you send them….” The image skips again and it’s to Frigga in the grasp of the hellish looking Dark Elf.

“I will never tell.” She declares before she is brutally stabbed and fades. Loki jumps up but only goes through the projection. He can’t help her. No, no, no, no. Another tick. Just another trick like all those in the last year! He would never do such a thing. He loved her.

“You lead them right to her.”

But why would he do that? He was spiteful but-.... No, the elf. Think, Loki, think! Ah, yes, the Aether must have been helping them and changed them to that form. But why Asgard? Why Frigga?!

“You’re lying,” he pants, “what led to this!? Where is she!? Do you have her?!”

“It is true. That's the proper flow of time, and it happens again and again and again because it's supposed to, because it has to! The TVA makes sure of it. And you did this to your own mother, Loki! What kind of monster does that?”

“I’m not a monster!” He shrieks, voice cracking. A chair slams into the wall. He does his best to compose himself but his breathing and heart rates are all still erratic.

“What led to this?” He motioned to the agent then the world blurs to the projected image of her dead face. Fresh pain spikes his back.

“Oops, sorry, only loops you, not the furniture. Now, why don’t you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people? Do you enjoy killing? Were you about to kill me like you killed your mother?”

He fixed red eyes on the blond nuisance, “I wouldn’t hurt her!” The stinging tears obstruct his vision, but he’s too prideful to wipe his eyes--or the society he had been raised by was.

The human met his hateful gaze, “you weren't born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves.”

Loki’s grimace was translated through his conflicted heart into an almost silent sobbing scream. A chitauri screeched as the projection showed the Midguardian protection force he had pissed off enough to coalesce.

But he wouldn’t do that to her… he wouldn’t… he couldn’t….

“What are you doing?” Loki barely registers the voice as B-15.

“My job. Is it yours to interrupt?” Mobius responds as Loki is still frozen staring at the wall, not even seeing the projection anymore.

“We have a situation.”

“Gah, there's always a situation. Don't go anywhere. And it was just getting good. Spirited!”

The doors closed.

Mother, I need to find her!

Escaping the room was easier than expected and the maze did nothing to deter his frantic heart.

“Hey,” he ducked down behind the desk the agent from earlier was manning.

“Hey, I know you. You’re the criminal with the blue box.”

“Shh,” he dragged the other down, “what’s your name?”

“Casey.”

“Give me the Tesseract back or I’ll gut you like a fish, Casey.”

“What’s a fish?”

“H-how do you not know what a fish is?”

“I’ve lived my entire life behind a desk, and I’d like to know what I’m being threatened with before I comply.”

“Do you not eat--death, Casey, violent and painful death.”

“Okay, okay, I comply, I comply, jeez.”

Casey leaned forward and pulled open a drawer of a moveable table, “this it?”

“Wha… Infinity Stones?” The stones, mostly green Time and red Aether or Reality, were jumbled together in the small space.

“Oh, actually, we get a lot of those. Yeah, some of the guys use them as paper weights.”

“The greatest power in the universe and you have them carelessly thrown about?”

“Well, we actually are outside of the universe AKA the Sacred Timeline. Pretty neat, right?” Casey’s musings as he stood up and presented another bulbous screen hanging from the ceiling were ignored as Loki closed his blue hand around the Tesseract. It was dim. So, so dim and dull and…. Lifeless. His jaw hung open.

An elevator dinged, “oh, you almost hit me, that’s so messed up!” Loki clicked the button and returned to the small room. Slowly, he pulled himself off of the floor, set the Tesseract down on the table and twisted the dial.

“Your birthright was to die!...” Future Odin gave future bound Loki a sadistic smile, “as a child, cast out into a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

“If I had not fully asked for true mercy, I’d just say swing it. It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just, I don’t love them.” He found himself muttering along with his near-future self.

“Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again. You will spend the rest of your years in the dungeon.” He moved back with his shackled projection. That was too far, even for Odin. A flash of a red cape and eyepatched face looking down and telling him “no” passed in front of his eyes. His finger rolled on the dial.

“I love you, my sons. Remember this place. Home….” Future Odin told both Thor and him as he disappeared into energy from the cliff Loki was fairly sure belonged to Midguard. A breath caught. What… how… could it be?

It skipped forward again, “Loki, I thought the world of you, I thought we were going to fight side by side forever.” Future Thor with shorn hair and different clothes regarded future Loki--actually regarded him. Had he died? What sort of trickery could this be? He gulped around the hope in his throat.

“Maybe you're not so bad after all, brother. Maybe not…. Thank you. If you were here, I might even give you a hug.” An eyepatched Thor smiled at his future, blue leather clad self as a glass liquor stopper was thrown.

His future self caught it, “I’m here.” He smiled at the sight, that’s all I ever wanted… to be your equal, brother. He sniffled.

His life skipped forward again, “undying? You should choose your words more carefully.” Blue features immediately smoothed out and drooped in horror at the site of the purple titan. A golden gauntlet endued with infinity stones closed around his neck. His future self writhed in the air.

“You will… never… be a… god!” He flinched at the cracking of his own neck, his future self’s body falling limp instantly. No! He wouldn’t let himself die to him! He watched helplessly as his future self’s body was dropped while Thor screamed. The power stone’s magic broke up the spaceship as Thor wept over him. Purple enveloped the screen and then “END FILE.”

“Hah… hah… hah… hehehehe,” his lungs spasmed.

“Glorious purpose,” Loki sneered to no one. He collapsed gripping the Tesseract.

“Loki?... Nowhere left to run.”

“I know. Will you be ‘resetting’ or otherwise doing away with me now?” He stared into the dull blue depths of the Space Stone’s container rather than bothering to look up at the human. There wasn’t an answer.

“I am tired, Mobius.”

Knees popped as the other slowly knelt by him, “listen, I can’t offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant’s been killing our minutemen.”

“So why me?”

“The Variant we’re hunting is, well, you.”

He lifted his head, “pardon?”

#Loki #loki series #loki show #loki spoilers #Loki Show Rewrite #loki series rewrite project #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #Cannon non-compliant

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spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 4 years

Text

OC Kiss Week Day 2: Blanket

WIP: To Annex the Kid/The Invention of Fire Pairing: Works x Russell (with a cameo by one of Works’ aliases) Timeline: TIoF CW: More yearning! Yay! Rating: T Words: 1,653

***

Cady shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her small shoulders, teeth chattering against the frigid cold seeping mercilessly through the doors of the coach. Works turned to her in alarm at the sound.

“My goodness,” he exclaimed, squeezing her to his side on the seat. He rubbed her arms to force warmth into her wiry frame. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

Sitting across from this display and facing the rear of the coach, Russell watched Works take a spare blanket from his satchel and tuck it under Cady’s chin, wrapping it tight across her chest and essentially swaddling her within thick wool, and after a few moments the chattering stopped.

“Sorry, Mr. Works,” Cady said. “Guess I didn’t think much of it.”

“Nonsense.” Works peered through the window as best as he could through the endless snow and fog hiding London from view. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times not to feel that you’re being an inconvenience by asking for ordinary things such as an extra blanket.” He swung around and affected a humorously severe face, brows drawn too tight together and mouth tugged down in an exaggerated frown. “Can you imagine the inconvenience if you’d expired?”

Cady belly-laughed and Russell shook his head, bewildered.

"I do not understand why y’all think the things you think is so funny is so funny sometimes," he muttered, though he let out a quiet snort anyway if for no other reason than because he enjoyed when they interacted with such familiarity.

Still laughing, Cady buried her face in her blanket. “It’s not my fault!”

"There isn’t a lot to envy in the way of having a macabre sense of humor,” Works said. He looked at Russell with an expression of false surprise. “Some say it’s a sign of low intelligence or maturity, you know.”

“Low intelligence, no.” Russell’s face split into an playful grin. “Maturity? That might be up for discussion.”

Works pretended to be affronted and placed a firm hand on the top of Cady’s head. “This is a child!”

Russell opened his mouth to respond when the coach came to a rolling stop. One glance outside told him they’d arrived at the house rented out to them by Dr. Keller, and an overwhelming yawn burst forth from him in anticipation of stretching out on the most comfortable bed he’d ever experienced.

And stretch out he did some minutes later, with a steaming cup of tea brewed by the housekeeper, reclined on a sofa in the well-lit drawing room and another five or six blankets piled onto his lap. He wasn’t sure how he got to that point or why begging Mrs. Gabb to leave him be just this once always resulted in a cup of tea that went to waste.

“Y’ever been dragged along the dirt behind a galloping horse for thirty seconds?” he asked.

Works, freshly changed into a gemstone-hued dressing gown, stifled the sounds of Cady enjoying a lively song with Mrs. Gabb in the kitchen as he pushed the doors closed. “...I can’t say I have.”

“Well, it feels kinda like this.” Russell deposited the teacup along with its saucer onto the table in front of him.

A pause settled over the floor and Works slid his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to speak to you about that, actually.” He hesitated. “About you being here, with me—”

“Works,” Russell interjected, holding up a hand to stop him, “we already talked about it enough.”

Works spared a cautionary look over his shoulder at the doors, where the jovial noise continued from further into the house. The chances of being interrupted were low, yet he dropped his voice anyway. “I still need you to know how much it means to me that you’d come so far from home, into such foreign waters for the sole purpose—”

“Works....”

“—For the sole purpose of letting me pursue a silly whim.” Works’ eyes followed Russell as he got to his feet, leaving the blanket pile behind. “I can see how uncomfortable you are here.”

“First of all, if you call this...this....”

“Symposium.”

“If you call this symposium a silly whim again, you’re gonna have to answer to me. Also, I would let you drag me along the dirt into the deepest depths of the ocean, McCoy.”

The silence that followed surprised them both. Not even Mrs. Gabb’s distant and boisterous laughter could stop the furious blush from cropping up on Russell’s face as he realized he’d taken Works’ shoulder in hand, fingers digging into the muscle meeting his neck, and they stood impeccably close to one another.

“I get seasick,” Works murmured.

“I am all too familiar with the concept.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said to me up in that balloon.” Works made eye contact and held it for ages. “I fear I’ve underplayed what hearing those words from you has done to me emotionally.”

Russell swallowed. “Yeah...I actually think this might be the first time you’ve looked me in the eye since we left home.” He, too, glanced to the doors. “You’re lookin’ a little like you wanna make somethin’ right, however.”

Magnetically, Works bowed toward Russell, pressing a purposeful kiss to the hollow of his cheek. The flutter of his nervous breath against Russell’s skin sprouted a shiver.

“Works,” he said with finality. Concession.

Taking that cue, Works met his lips, gathering the fabric of the waistcoat Russell hated wearing into tight fists and backing him into the wall with aggression so suppressed it almost snapped like a dry and brittle branch across Russell’s shoulders. Works kissed him like he needed to taste him or accept death, and Russell felt a rumble of courage in his stomach he hadn’t felt in quite a few years that allowed him to hold Works in place by the back of the neck and reciprocate enthusiastically.

Russell had the belt of the dressing gown open and his arms around Works’ waist so quickly the chill of the air hadn’t set in yet. Works inhaled sharp, shuddering under the pressure of large palms splayed flat against the curve of his backside, caught between his trousers and the softness of the robe.

Works tangled his fingers within Russell’s previously kempt hair, and the crash of a dish breaking in the kitchen followed by an undistressed yelp fueled Russell into pushing Works in the direction of the door to his own bedroom on the other side of the drawing room, to get out of open space, to sate the clawing hunger in privacy.

Russell’s famished mouth found its way to Works’ jawline, hands preoccupied by the buttons of his shirt, completely in a haze that he wouldn’t have given an ounce of recognition had it not been for Works suddenly gripping the door frame to stop them with immediacy.

“Russell...” Works hissed. He took hold of Russell’s chin. “Russ, darling....”

Russell gazed up at him with glossy eyes. “Yeah.”

“Not like this.” Works touched his forehead to Russell’s, nails so far into the wall that he tore a bit of the paper, breath coming out in forceful gusts. “I would never forgive myself.”

Russell kissed him again, slow, heart humming into his bones, parts of him aching low and urgent, and though he agreed with Works in the end, he couldn’t help but feel a sting of frustration at the tables being turned for once.

Footsteps in the hall forced them apart, and Works helped flatten Russell’s hair while simultaneously re-tying the dressing gown. He was still in the process of securing the knot in the belt when the drawing room doors opened.

“Sirs,” Mrs. Gabb sang upon entering the room. “Nothing to worry about! I’ve made a right mess is all."

“Everything alright?” Works asked, and only Russell picked up on the strained way he talked.

“Oh, yes. I dropped a teacup. Shattered it to pieces.”

Russell exchanged a look with Works. “Tragic.”

“I’ve sent the young Miss to freshen up for supper while I clean up.”

Works coughed a bit. “Allow me to help, Mrs. Gabb—”

“No, no, Mr. Robinson, I won’t have it at all. You’re guests to this house! What would Dr. Keller say?”

“Let ‘im help,” Russell grunted. “He won’t leave you alone if you don’t.”

Mrs. Gabb’s rosy cheeks pinched out as she grinned. “Well, alright. I’ve got a broom this way....”

The remainder of the evening went on much like nothing had transpired, other than Russell occasionally catching Works in the act of watching him as if he had a particularly puzzling riddle marked on his forehead from across the dinner table. The intensity of his clear blue stare gave him goosebumps.

A knock on Russell’s door much later, after he’d assumed everyone else had retired for the night, startled him. He looked up from his lettering book and tensed up. “...Whozit?”

“It’s me,” Works said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Russell tossed the book onto the bed and pulled the door open just enough to see Works silhouetted by the hall light, bottom lip between his teeth and worry lines aging him somewhat.

They stood unspeaking for a moment.

Works took a calming breath. “I love you.”

Russell nodded. He’d heard it before, but it still made his entire body warm. Insecurity prevented him from repeating what he’d said in the balloon. “I know.”

“I didn’t want you to think...I apologize if I gave you the impression that I wasn’t....”

“Gimme a kiss g’night, McCoy.”

Works leaned in to press a chaste kiss, the softest kiss to his lips. Russell let it course into his veins.

“Good night,” Works whispered.

Russell found it a little easy to fall asleep that night. If he’d known it could’ve ended up being the last time he’d ever kiss Works McCoy, however...he sure would’ve changed his mind about a lot of things.

#ockiss21 #TIoF

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gummybearzgocrazyagain · 4 years

Text

MALEC FIC REC POST, vol.3

vol. 1

vol.2

Media AU

Society Rules by @Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright [it is apparently based on films i’ve never heard of - The Philadelphia Story / High Society - which does not make it any less entertaining. malec are childhood friends, who had a falling out 5 years ago, and now Magnus is back from London to interrupt Lightwood wedding, aka the social event of the season]

Making my way to you by @asharee_arie [woah, what was that??? is the correct answer “a perfect fanfic”?? what a muthafuckin delight, where has this gem been hiding this whole time??? i was on the floor, rolling around and squealing like a newborn piglet. Intended as some kind of Office AU, this piece does not necessarily follow the outline, but who cares, when the story, and characters, and author’s style are all that perf??? i am in luv]

Mistletoe and Margaritas by @nevermetawolf [this is legendary, and i mean, muthafuckin epic - Office AU so authentic you’d feel it in yo old bones... author calls it a crack fic, although it was anything but!!! major must read for those, who’s ever loved office, allllllll the kudos]

Once Upon a Time in the Clouds by @Fatale (femme) [one of my all-time fav authors, every time i come by a piece i have not read yet, is like a huge YAY, what a talent. so this piece is an AU of something called “sky high”, which i have no idea about, but luved it nevertheless, Alec is born to a family of Supers, and is going to school for children with superpowers, but he himself is yet to manifest any.]

Quite Magical by @lorenzobane [Hogwarts AU, and what an adorable thing it was! granted, i’ve never actually read any of HP books, this was such a delight though... alec is bad at potions, and magnus has to tutor him *wink*]

Chef AU

the way to a chef’s heart by @lecrit [okay, the GIANT SMILE one’s face acquires when one finds out there is a new lecrit fic ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ was reading it, and legitimately squealing like a feral piglet all the way through, cause i fucking luv every single word this woman writes, is like a tiny endorphin explosions in my brain. i know am a hopeless fangirl, but i’ll die on this hill. the way she gets malec, and every variation of them in her works just makes me go (❁´◡`❁) every. single. time.]

kids in the kitchen by @perpetual_journey [cuteness personified, malec are both chefs, and magnus is a single father of max and rafe, and go and read ittttttttt, its that soft content we all need in our lives sometimes]

Knives at the Ready by @harrysglasses [restaurant AU, that is supposed to be a malec rendition of Burnt (am guessing it’s a movie...?), and what a sweet treat it was! i liked author’s style, this is the kind of smooth, unproblematic content one would require to take repose from all the heart-clenching longing i’ve been reading lately... delightful piece to ease thy soul]

Single Parent AU

I Knew From the First Time by @KlaineJane [emmm, excuse you, dear author, who gave you the right to use Rafe and Max to get to my heart, and be generally so fucking cute??? Alec is a single dad of both rascals, that has a meeting with the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Chairman meets new friends]

And Then I Met You by @everydayfandom [malec are single parents of max and rafe respectively, and alec gets called in to school about the accident max was involved in...who doesn’t luv them some gud ol’ sweet piece of kidfic? those are like a soothing baths for your soul, and lightwood-bane kids are incapable of being anything less than extremely adorable in any interpretation, so]

College AU

Don’t say goodnight by @alistoney [this the kinda lighthearted content i am always here for - College AU]

One year and a bottle of whiskey by @CryptidBane [yassssss, yet another version of the College AU, but with malec as both clueless and pining professors, this type of fic i can read endlessly]

All is Fair in Love and War by @LadyOxymoron [aaaaaaaa, what was this adorableness *major heart-eyes* what a piece, mashallah, college professors AU, where magnus is new in town, and malec is engaging in an elaborate prank war, which, undoubtedly, is nothing more than a prolonged foreplay (c), what a gem]

Canon Divergence

oh, i’ve waited for you by @manticoremoons [so, the fic is happening a little bit further in a timeline, than the books or the series, and Alec is around 30, and... married to Lydia. i know, i know, it almost stopped me from proceeding, and boi am i glad it hasn’t completely, cause it is a damn good piece!]

Hey There Demons, It’s Me (Your Dream Boyfriend) by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how many recs of this author can i make, without being deemed obsessed? cause y’all should go and read every single thing they wrote, stat. this adorableness is outta this world, literally - magnus’ summoning went sideways, and the loft ends up populated with the teenage ghost-demon, who is very clearly enamored with alexander... all kinds of fluff ensue]

Something Else verse by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [maybe it’s my fever talking, but i am such a sucker for memory loss AUs, and SH fandom has the richest canon base for those, yay! this time, it’s an AU verse after 3x10: rather than asking for his magic, Asmodeus curses magnus by taking away memories from everyone who’s ever loved him, in exchange for freeing jace from lilith’s thrall... oh, what a beautiful and delicious angst ensues]

Home by @otppurefuckingmagic [waaaaaaaaat... *sits with her mouth open* how did you....? how did he...? damnnnnnnnnn you authors in this fandom, stop being so talented!!!! this is uncannily brilliant]

I’ll hold on until you’re home by @alistoney [how dare you sir, right in the feels... the missing scene in the midst of 3x18/3x19, when magnus realizes what his idiot of a boyfriend has done, and confronts him about the Asmodeus deal]

First time for everything by @nebulein [“Nowhere in a Shadowhunters’ job description does it read ‘must look adorable while infatuated with the local High Warlock’.” - series of firsts written with such tenderness and adoration for characters, that it warms your heart while reading, - it shows how much the author cares for them. it is not finished, but whatever has already been written, is gold]

Fake dating AU

The Great Repression by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [although it might not be exactly my regular cup of tea, i still appreciate this author’s style so damn much, and the way they do malec dynamic overall, so it’s here. magnus is a camboy, and alec is hired to protect him from a stalker]

Friends to lovers

Family is Family by @hexicity [my brains are fried by the covid, so any coherent rec would be unlikely right about now, but the softness of this <333 alec sees an ad about a free room, and when he moves in, he finds way more, than he bargained for... gave me a bit of a “happy, shiny people everywhere” vibe, and that’s an automatic rec in my books, so]

Spinning Around In Circles by @lemonoclefox [my fav friends to lovers/mutual pining trope, here you are, and what a pretty pretty wrapper are you wearing - absolutely amazing interpretation of a trope, that seems to has been done to death, and yet here i am, never able to get enough of it <3]

If it walks like a duck by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [this. i was reading this. and after every single word. all i wanted to do was get down on one knee and propose to this person. i dunno who the hell you is, but.... how did you do this? it was... another level of fanfiction.]

Neighbors AU

Meow 17:1 Love Thy Neighbor by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn [again, not a fan of drabbles, but who could resist such softness??? Neighbors AU, where Chairman takes some lessons he learnt from “Parent trap” to heart, and alec is a stumbling mess, but he gets shit done, kudossssssss]

Various AU mix

Solid courage by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how goddamn CUTE was dat???? answer - the cutest. mashallah people in this fandom can write]

Paper Love by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [it would not be an exaggeration to admit i thoroughly fell in love with this author’s style, i mean, all and every version of their malec is all kinds of awesome. this one is no exception - catarina works in the library, and malec have to take madzie out to a coffee shop, cause their obnoxious flirting is too loud for the quaint environment of catarina’s workplace.... it’s tiny and so so sooooooo sweet]

make no bones by @ohfreckle [yaaaaaaaaay, what a cutie, tiny preciousness about magnus having an awful day and taking it out on a no-good useless building super, simply delightful]

Freud is a Dick by @sanctuary_for_all [Alec works in IT firm, and accidentally sends someone else’s dick pick to his boss, whom he has a crush on... do i need to say more]

shadows in moonlight by @kaeg [damnnnnnn, son, that was a ride!! something exquisitely soulful, tender and so, so poetic... young malec meet in summer vacation home, and it will take your breath away in the best way possible... warning, it is unfinished, but whatever was written, is absolute preciousness]

For the Love of the Game by @TicklemyPickle [Hockey AU, where malec were childhood friends, but had a falling out, and were not in touch for the last 7 years, until magnus gets traded in to alec’s team... i was somewhat unsure about reccing this, as some of the choices author made regarding their dynamic did not exactly resonate with me, but decided to go on, because, god as my witness, one thing this world definitely needs more of - is malec Hockey AUs, word upppp]

Love Is A Gamble by @la-muerta [i myself do not completely understand, why has it taken me so long to get to the “The importance of elsewhere” author’s most famous piece, but i finally have, it was amazeballs, like, the world-building...? off the charts. the language, the moral struggle, what a gem. alec is a grumpy and surely sheriff *duh!!!* of a tiny town, and magnus strolls in being all... well, magnus-y, and opens a gambling house, the potential!!! anyway, i highly doubt this piece needs recs, so imma zip it]

@ohprongs [this author has too many tiny pieces i like to name them individually, but as far as reccing goes, they should def be mentioned here for their effortless, seamless style, and clear love for the characters in all interpretations, that simply shines through all and any AUs they choose to put malec in]

special mention:

@theleftboobgrabber [i wasn’t aware that at this stage it was still possible to come by someone like this. the author, who’s style would impress me so. that unbelievably glorious Mafia AU, absolutely delightful and literally perfect My mama don’t like you series, and something that went straight to my top-5 - MI6 AU ohhhhh, that MI6 AU... i have no coherent words to express the depths of my appreciation, this is unbelievable fucking talent for writing malec]

#malec #malec fic rec #malec fic #shadowhunters fic rec #shadowhunters

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Shake: Chris and Laken

(Why do so many of Chris’s pieces end up having a title of just a single word? Huh. This is just a very smol drabble I’ve been meaning to write and is basically a present for @slaintetowhump, as is most of my Laken content let’s be honest here)

Timeline: College!Chris, early in his burgeoning relationship with Laken. I’d say first semester in college.

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker

CW: Some brief references to past trauma/noncon, fucky survivor thoughts on navigating consent and relationships post-recovery, memories of conditioned thoughts around spice

“I can’t believe you’ve never tried this before,” Laken says, leaning over, so close their knees are nearly brushing his, and Chris’s eyes are caught in theirs. Dark, so dark, and ringed in black eyeliner that makes them seem even wider and darker, pools he could dip into and not ever come back from.

“I... I, I might, um, might h-have,” Chris says, his voice strained and a little rough around the edges. All the hairs on his arms and his neck have stood up, goosebumps rolling over his skin as Laken’s hand moves. “I don’t remember.”

Laken pauses, giving him that sort of thinking-look they have sometimes when he says he doesn’t remember things, or doesn’t know a movie or show or some big national thing everyone else does. Then they seem to shrug that moment off, but Chris caught the pause.

He should have pretended to know about this.

He’s just so tired sometimes of lying.

They pick up a single french fry from the plate they and Chris and are sharing, skinny as a matchstick, one of the fries not already drenched in the neon-yellow-orange cheese sauce they’d ordered. Laken smiles, top teeth just resting on their full bottom lip, and dips the fry into the chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top they have right in front of them.

“See? Dip, hold for one second-” Laken holds up a single finger on their other hand for emphasis, and Chris can’t help the way his own mouth stretches in a smile. “-and eat!”

They pop the french fry into their mouth, closing their eyes, and Chris loves the perfect even line of their eyeliner, the way it swoops just a little further than the corner of their eyes.

“Now you try.” Laken points back at the plate, and Chris’s eyes drop quickly down to it, his face reddened and warm at the idea that Laken caught him staring at their face. A bit of their hair has fallen into their eyes and he wants to bury his hands in the thick, curly black hair that runs over the top and back, rub his fingers into the soft, short shaved hair at the sides, wants to-

Just wants, in formless ways that go no further than the idea of what he might feel if they held him, kissed him, were near him, legs intertwined, a subtle weight against his side.

The wants are good, but under them lingers the fear of what comes after the holding. When the weight is no longer subtle but heavy, when kissing isn’t enough for them, when they want him to perform.

They wouldn’t call it that. That’s not what it’s called, out here. That he’ll lose himself again, and the next time maybe he won’t remember how to run from it first. He can’t be rescued every single time he gets in over his head, can he? He’s supposed to be able to do these things himself, now.

It was less than a year of his life, lost, they think. Nat and Jake think so, anyway.

How can less than a year of his life still hurt so much later?

“Chris?” Laken snaps their fingers in front of him and he blinks, sitting up in a sudden flinch backwards-

Pay attention, darlin’, you should always have eyes on your owner

-and catches himself just as fast, giving them a smile. “S-sorry, I, I was in my, my my-my head I guess. What, what did you say?”

-won’t repeat myself, you should have focused on me-

Laken pulls their hand back.

-what else is there for you to look at, hm?

Laken’s hand hesitates, as though they might want to reach forward instead of pulling back. He wants them to touch his face so badly and he doesn’t want to be touched at all. He wants both things.

He wants to grab at them and hold on and say please tell me I can do this and he wants to say just walk away before you find out and the sentences are so jumbled together in his brain he can’t say either at all.

The lights are making a sound, a sort of hum that he thinks Laken can’t hear but he can hear it and it drills into his ears, under the memory of Sir’s voice, slick and smooth, the sense-memory of a hand lying on the back of his neck, pressing soft leather into his spine.

Pay attention. I said-

“I said,” Laken says, softer this time, “that it’s your turn.” They hold out a fry, skinny twig potato, with only a hint of cheese sauce at one end. “Dip it in the shake, take a bite. I promise it’s amazing.”

Amazing. You really were worth every penny I paid, weren’t you?

Chris is sure he sees uncertainty in their expression, but he’s not always good at knowing what the people around him are thinking. The subtler shifts of expression that don’t contain the threat of violence he was trained to prepare for sometimes mean nothing at all to him, and between the weight of their face at the front of him and the pressure of the fluorescent lights in the diner above and behind him, that buzzing noise that no one seems to hear but him, Chris wants to run.

Get up and run, like Kauri used to run, and that feels safer than what he’s trying to do here.

The train tracks of his thoughts are scattered, unsure. He wants to get up and walk out, go somewhere dark, and remind himself that people like him weren’t ever supposed to have moments like this.

You are a pet and you’ll never be anything but-

Chris sets his jaw and tries to remember that memories can’t grab you out of the light, the buzzing is just a sound - the lights are just cheaper than any other kind - and Laken’s hand is safer than the hand in his mind.

You’ll never be anything but-

This. He can be this, instead.

He takes the fry from Laken’s fingers, lets his brush theirs just a little for the rush of electricity along his nerves, the feeling of touching lightning, and dips his fry in the shake.

Then he pops it into his mouth, and his eyes widen at the sense of cold and hot, chocolate ice cream and fried potato, salt and sweet. He picks another fry up and tries it again.

Laken laughs, sitting back and clapping their hands, ducking their head slightly. “See! You like it! Didn’t I tell you?”

“You, you, you-you you did, you told me,” Chris smiles at them around the french fry still sticking out of his mouth, prompting another peal of laughter, catching the eyes of people in the other booths in the diner. Chris would sink into himself, except he realizes after a second that the older couple looking at them is smiling, watching Laken laugh.

So he starts to smile again, too.

“Great.” Laken picks up a long-handled spoon, dipping it into the whipped cream and picking the bright-red, fire-engine-colored cherry off the table. “You want my cherry?” They start to giggle, blushing themself, and Chris just blinks, not understanding this joke, either.

There are so many jokes he doesn’t understand but he smiles along with anyway.

“I’m kidding, I’m just-... sorry, being out with you makes me kind of nervous, and I’m just covering it by being ridiculous,” Laken says, sighing, eating the bite of whipped cream and the cherry themself. “I really am sorry, Chris.”

“You, um... you, you, you-you... you’re nervous?” Chris asks, voice low. That... he can’t have heard that right.

“Uh, yeah, of course I am. You’re fucking gorgeous and you dating me... it’s a lot. You know? You make me really nervous.” Laken hesitates, swirls their spoon around in their milkshake without looking up. “Like I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Me, um, me-me... me me me, me-... wait, my words, um-” Chris groans, reaching for the black bracelet he always wears on one wrist, pushing the little metal circles wound into the heavy nylon rope to focus on the press of an edge against his finger, the way they spin against his skin. “I’m... I’m nervous, too.”

“Are you?” Laken cocks their head, and there’s that hair again, falling over one eye. “Well, I guess we’re both nervous, so that cancels us out, right?”

Chris takes a breath, reaches out, and brushes the bit of hair from over their eye, watching Laken’s smile grow and change, become softer and warmer all at once, as they look up at him.

This look, he knows. The I want you look. He’s given himself, practiced and performed, with a smile that never reached his eyes.

Laken’s eyes, though, are warm. He’ll fall in.

“I, I, I think I’m too weird for, um, for you,” Chris says, finally, hesitantly.

Laken grabs his hand in theirs, twining fingers warm around his chillier ones, and kisses the back of his hand. “Not possible.”

“No, really-”

Laken shakes their head, pulling his hand to rest his knuckles against their cheek and his voice is caught in his throat, then. It’s lost somewhere in the look on Laken’s face. He can’t quite remember how words work, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to.

“No.” Laken says the word soft as can be. Chris thinks of the way it felt to pet the kitten when Ruth’s stray cat had a litter. “Really. You’re not too weird for me, Chris. I want this to be our first date, not... not the last one. Yeah?”

Chris breathes in and out. His hand is on fire with sparks from Laken’s touch.

He wants, all those things that feel safe. The holding, the kissing, the things that go no further. He has no idea how to ask.

“... right,” He says, finally. “First date, not, not, not-not last date.”

“Perfect.” Laken kisses the back of his hand and then gives it back to him, but he kind of hopes they’ll just keep his hand forever, it can be all theirs, whatever, just keep smiling like this and he’ll give them anything they want. “So. Next fry?”

They pick one up.

Chris picks a fry up, too.

They dip their fries into the milkshake in unison, and Chris can’t think of anything but how gorgeous Laken looks in the awful fluorescent light.

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sapphirewolf1122 · 4 years

Text

Coming in, Fat

Summary: All you want to do is use your quirk to help others. But sometimes, you go a little overboard.

Word Count: 1, 477

A/N: Sorry, got distracted by another project and didn’t finish my research in time to post this yesterday! But on the bright side, put together a wedding compilation video that I meant to do like three months ago! Anywho, this is just a scene that came from a convo I had with my sister about someone who had a quirk that let them manipulate their fat all around their body and, potentially, others. Which led to the idea of her swatting Fat Gum clear across a room...soooo, here ya ago. My sister may post a romantic version of this but I don’t wanna tag her and call her out like that. Thanks for reading and hope you like it!

“One bowl of miso ramen, topped with ajitama and negi, please. Oh, and ten onigiri, all tuna.”

The vendor eyed you doubtfully; you had distributed your fat pretty evenly today so you appeared to have a fairly thin figure. “Where you planning on putting all that food?”

“Food powers my quirk, so I have a heartier appetite than you might think,” you said with a smirk.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the vendor got to preparing your order. Soon, you were walking down the street, munching on one of your rice bowls. You had eaten the ramen by the vending cart before starting your patrol.

You hummed contentedly as you reached into your food bag for another rice bowl, though you still kept a sharp eye on the surrounding streets. There had been a rise in crime in this district recently so you’d decided to check it out. The one that was part of your usual patrol route had been very quiet lately, so you’d grown bored with it. Though your chest swelled with pride at the thought that you’d been part of the reason it had quieted down so much.

Your friends over at Naruhata had advised against patrolling out of your own town, saying that it led to a greater chance of getting caught red-handed. But you had brushed off their concerns. Disguising yourself was a specialty of yours after all.

Reaching into the bag again, your mind wandered back to when you were still in school. Many had been quite envious of your quirk, especially the girls. But no one had ever considered it worthy of hero work. Not even your parents, who had refused to let you even attend the hero course entrance exam at your local high school. To them, your quirk was all about looks.

Which reminded you. Stopping to look at yourself in a shop window, you squinted, thinking about what to do with your features today. You didn’t want to be too recognizable after all. Hm…you’d go more masculine today. Your profile had you pegged as female, so assuming a male look would really throw them off.

Concentrating, you broaden your shoulders and maneuver some fat into your face so that your features were a bit more rugged. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do about your height. But you found that it often worked to your advantage anyway. Thugs didn’t normally expect those who were smaller than them to beat them up so much. In fact, it sometimes became a bit of an issue…

You’re too hot-headed and brash with your quirk. And that’s what’s gonna get you in a load of trouble one day.

Tch. Hot-headed...it’s not hot-headed if they had it coming. They're the ones who decided to pick a fight. You were completely reasonable. Satisfied with your disguise, you pulled up your hood and turned to continue your patrol.

Only to be knocked back as a body slammed into you, causing you to drop your food as you landed on your behind. Dumbfounded, you stared at the scattered contents. None of the remaining rice balls were salvageable. You heard the person mumble something but that didn’t stop your vision from filling with red. What kind of monster exhibited such a nonchalant and wasteful attitude towards food?

Whipping around to the rapidly retreating figure, you watched as they turned down a side street. As they did, you thought you saw the glint of a weapon in their hand. Your eyes widened. Could this person be a villain in more ways than one?

Rushing to your feet, you chased after them, rounding the corner to the side street to find that it was relatively deserted. The villain was a ways ahead; you wouldn’t be able to catch up by running after them. Good, you hated running.

Leaping into the air, you rapidly directed the majority of your fat into your legs, concentrating them around certain muscles for the most effective energy absorption. As you landed, you used the accumulated fat to send you springing forward again, this time higher and further than before. In fact, you may have overshot it a bit…

Suddenly, a yellow mass appeared in front of you with a yell. Unable to stop your fall at this point, you crashed into them, fully expecting both of you to go tumbling. Except...you didn’t? You’d barely registered that you were actually sinking into them before you shot back out.

As you flew back, your mind was racing. There was only one person who could’ve done that...only one hero.

You landed hard on the pavement. It took a lot of quick quirk improvisation on your part to keep you from getting too banged up; you managed to absorb most of the energy by concentrating your fat at key impact points. Still, you were left quite stunned once your tumble session was over.

Staring up at the sky, you had pretty much forgotten about the villain as your brain tried to process who had just launched you across the street.

Could it really be him? What district was this again? You weren’t on his patrolling grounds, were you? How could you not know if it were his patrolling grounds? No, there was no way. You would totally know if you had a chance of running into Fa—

“Hiya.” A big, grinning face in a yellow hood appeared above you.

“Gah, Fat Gum!” You practically jumped out of your skin as you rolled upright.

“Sure am. You all right there? Seemed like a pretty nasty tumble.”

“I-I’m fine.”

The BMI Hero: Fat Gum, the pro hero whom you admire more than any other, cocked his head. “Yeah, looks like it. Got some sort of absorption quirk? What was that jump you just made? Y’know using your quirk in public is illegal right; if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were chasin’ that guy. Actaully, you seem kinda familiar…”

Fat Gum recognized you?!

Before your mind could spiral any further on what that could mean, you heard a shout behind you. Turning, you saw a red-headed boy holding onto the guy who had knocked you over.

“Hey Fat, I got ‘im! Didn’t put up much of a fight. That other hero okay? That sure was a manly jump!” He gave you a sharp-toothed grin.

“Good job, Red. Detain him til the cops can get here. And all good here; was actually just about to ask our friend some questions. For one, they ain’t no hero.”

Crap, that didn’t sound good. “I...uh…” You started to back away but froze when Fat Gum placed his hand on your shoulder.

“In fact, looks like we got ourselves the vigilante, Futoi. She’s normally pretty hard to catch since she can manipulate her looks with her quirk but it seems she’s used up her excess fat.”

At his remark, you automatically went to touch your face to find that he was right. Your disguise had melted away due to the lack of fat left in your body. You felt a spark of your anger from before come back; this is why you’d needed those rice balls!

“Now young lady, please come with me. You’re wanted for several counts of illegal quirk use.”

Shaking off his hand, you backed away with a shake of your head. “I just use my quirk to help people! To help heroes like you catch the bad guys!”

Fat Gum’s smile seemed to soften. “While that is very noble of you, without a license, that is considered the work of a vigilante.”

“It’s not my fault my quirk wasn’t deemed worthy of one,” you scowled, aware that you sounded rather bitter.

“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve performed illegal actions and for that—”

Fat Gum had started to reach for you again but, panicked, you swung at him, using his own excess fat to your advantage to send him flying. He crashed into a wall, blinking at you in surprise. Both you and Red Riot stared after him in shock. You recovered your senses first though and turned to sprint away.

Holding back tears, you mentally yelled at yourself. You attacked Fat Gum! Your hero role model! You had dreamed of joining his agency if you ever managed to obtain a license. Now you had made sure that would never happen. Ugh, Koichi would never let you hear the end of this.

~~~~~~~

Back in the alley, Fat Gum still lay among the rubble where he had landed, staring after you in shock. Kirishima rushed towards him, dragging the unconscious thug with him.

“Fat, you okay?! How could she send you flying like that?”

It was several moments before Fat answered. “Someone get that girl a license and sign her up for my agency immediately. Also, find me some takoyaki, will ya?”

~~~~~~~

A/N2: Yes, I know, I wasn’t very original with the vigilante name...but I like names to have meaning and I feel like Reader wouldn’t have really put much thought into it.

I tried to incorporate a few references to the Vigilante series; that was actually what my extra research was, haha. Wasn’t til after I wrote up the first draft of this that I remembered that Fat Gum literally featured in the series about vigilantes. Obviously, this is set a lot further down the timeline than where the current volumes are at.

Finally, if anyone has any name suggestions for the fic, I’m open to recommendations. Thank you again for reading!

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #mha #Kirishima Eijirou #bnha kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #fatgum #bnha fat #bnha fatgum #vigilante #bnha vigilantes #bnha taishiro #reader #fatgum x reader #no romance

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queerbutstillhere · 5 years

Note

For my favourite writer, Damian and Jon get send to an Alternate Universe (maybe young justice cause I'm more familiar with it) and during their brief stay there everyone they interact with thinks they are dating because they act as a couple.

(I'm not sure how I feel about this, but oh well? I hope it's okay! Also it's kinda a weird situation, like they're in an alternate universe, but it's also just Young Justice? Idk I hope it makes sense!)

You know, it wasn't everyday that you're chilling with your Bros, a big blue portal opens in the ceiling and from it falls two vigilantes, cursing and kicking each other, right onto your coffee table, shattering it everyday.

Or at least it shouldn't be an everyday occurrence.

It certainly wasn't that surprising to say the least.

I suppose you want background, don't you?

It was a wonderful summer morning. Timothy Drake, Conner Kent, Cassie Sandsmark and Bart Allen had gone to visit their good friends Cissie and Greta, retired heroes. Tim, being a rich kid, could afford to do this for a weekend, and of course, the others could just run or fly there. So they went out for lunch and then went back to Cissies house, her mom conveniently out for the weekend. They were just chilling and catching up when the portal opened, people fell, and glass table shattered.

Greta had screamed when they fell, meanwhile the others just jumped up, ready to fight. The two vigilantes weren't terribly large, they had landed on top of each other, and the one on top was covered by a large black cape, a hood flipped over his head. He was the one swearing loudly. The other one was clearly a teen, wearing blue and red, and a red cape twisted underneath him. He had black hair and blue eyes and looked . . . Like Clark?

Tim and Kon exchanged a confused look.

"Damn you!"

"Stop it! Would you just stop fighting and hold still while I get a bearing on where the hell we are."

"No! Let go of me!"

"You're bleeding," the teen responded, arms tightly clasped around the person on top of him.

He had spotted Kon and apparently identified him as the current threat, body going rigid.

"I'm always bleeding, let go!"

There was a grunt and then cape man was pushing up, sitting on his companions stomachs as he looked around, eyes landing on Tim.

They both gasped at the same time.

"Robin?" Tim exclaimed, because standing in front of him was an. . . Older Damian?

"Drake," Damian shot back, tilting his head.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Kon said, stepping in front of Tim. "What's going on?"

"Tim, how does he know that?" Cissie asked.

"Know what? His last name?" Robin said with an eyeroll.

"God, Robin, lay off the bean burgers!" The younger man complained, shoving at Robin.

"Shut the hell up, Superboy. Now is not the time."

A small whine escaped "Superboy" and then he locked eyes with Kon again. Sure enough, on his chest was the S emblem of Superman. Kon took a step towards him, and in a flash, this Superboy was across the room, Robin between him and the wall as he glared at them, an arm behind him, touching Robin.

"Stay back. Who the hell are you people."

"Tt. Kent, don't be so naive," Robin said, poking his head out around the taller teens shoulder. "That is clearly my brother."

"You're-" Tim started confused.

"I see that, Rob, but who are the others?"

".... Admittedly I don't know. It appears Rex's portal dropped us into another dimension. . . Fascination."

"Uh! No! The last alternate dimension we got involved in, my dad was evil! Your dad doesn't even know we snuck out."

"Eh. I'm sure it'll be fine. What's the worst that can happen? They send West after us?"

"Robin!"

Tim raised an eyebrow at the two, motioning for the others to stand down, Cassie relaxed, and Cissie stopped edging towards her bow.

"Bart, can you clean up the glass, please?" Tim asked softly.

"Yeah." The speedster blurred around until all the glass pieces were collected, and then appeared with a vaccum, sweeping the rug.

Superboy and Robin had gone silent, watching this.

"He's a speedster."

"I see that."

"I don't trust them."

"And you think I do? They haven't attacked us yet, though, so that's a start."

Tim watched with hidden amusement, this whole time, as they stood against the wall, they had been touching the whole time, Robin's hands on Superboy's arm, which was wrapped around and hooked into Robin's utility belt. It was almost as if they were holding each other back.

"Okay. Why don't we do introductions instead of standing here and whispering," Tim said, stepping closer. "I'm Tim Drake."

"Red Robin. I know," Robin said softly.

Tim frowned, eyebrow raising. "I'm not..."

Robin's eyebrow also raised.

"Maybe he's not Red in this universe?" Superboy said softly.

Robin gently cuffed the back of Superboy's head. "Use your eyes. Read his body language, his posture, his body shape. He's a vigilante of some kind. It seems only reasonable that he would be Red Robin still. His recognized me, which means I have become Robin in this universe already. So unless he quit, or by some miracle, is Batman..."

"Okay, Damian, just, stop," Tim said, waving his hands. "Yes I know who you are. But I'm not Red Robin anymore."

"Oh you did quit?" Robin inquired.

"No. . . I uh. Changed my name."

"Fucking Drake," Kon muttered from behind them.

"Okay, you know what. Greta and I are gonna go to the kitchen why you guys sort this mess out," Cissie said, and sure enough, the two girls just exited stage left-

"What did you change it to?" Robin asked, he still hadn't moved from behind Superboy.

".... Drake."

Robin blinked once. Then twice.

"What the fuck?"

"Look! Okay! It's a powerful duck-"

"It's literally only aggressive when horny, Tim, what the hell?" Robin interrupted, staring at him with the biggest "what the fuck" expression ever.

"I TOLD YOU!" Bart nearly screamed, zipping over. "Hi! I'm Bart Allen, Impulse! I'm Barry's grandkid."

"Uh, Hi. I'm Superboy?" Superboy said, blue eyes cautiously scanning Bart.

"That's hilarious, because I'm Superboy," Kon said, stepping up, wrapping an arm around Tim's waist.

The two Superboy's had a glaring match.

"Cassandra Sandsmark. Wonder Girl."

"Oh, isn't Donna-"

"Alternate dimension," Robin reminded his Superboy.

Tim didn't miss the small sway that just happened to Robin. Neither did Superboy, as he suddenly spun and scooped up Robin.

"You dumbass," he huffed, looking around.

"I'm fine. We have more pressing matters-"

"You are literally bleeding through your armor."

"Kent I'm fine."

"Like hell."

Superboy looked at Tim.

"He took a shank to the stomach earlier. Do you have medical supplies?"

"Somewhere-"

They sent Bart off to look for those, while Superboy laid Robin down on the dining room table, gently undoing all his armor as Robin was forced to lay there helplessly, and just talk.

"As you have probably figured out by now, I'm Damian Wayne, and this is Jonathan Kent. We are Robin and Superboy from our universe," Damian explained, tugging off his gloves and then his mask.

"Wait does that make us brothers?" Kon asked, staring at Jonathan.

"What?" The younger Kent asked , barely glancing up from his task of gently pulling off Damian's layers, every touch and tug painfully gentle.

"Your dad is Clark, right?"

"Yeah."

"He's mine too. I'm Kon, Conner Kent."

"Oh! Cool!" Jon grinned at him brightly.

Neither of them noticed it, but Damian went rigid, and Jon mumbled an apology, looking back down. Bart returned with a first aid kit finally.

"This is all Cissie had."

"I'll take it," Jon said.

While he got to work, ripping his cape for spare bandaged, and using the surgical needle and string that Cissie had wisely decided there should be inside, Damian began explaining what had happened, how they had been battling an old enemy named Rex, and he had, in a last ditch effort, opened the portal, tossing them through it. Cassie and Tim asked a few questions to better understand, and Damian answered them all, barely bothered by Jon working on his stab wound, bandaging it as best he could.

"So wait. We don't exist on your world?" Cassie asked.

"Well, Tim does, and I do believe I've heard of a Cassandra Sandsmark. But I've never met you, Kon, nor do we have an Impulse. Just the Wally's and Barry. Oh and Jay."

"Wild."

"Well, Jon here doesn't exist in our timeline, so it'd not that surprising," Kon said to Bart.

"Yeah but still. What do people do without us?"

"We survive just fine, I assure you," Damian said sarcastically.

Jon smacked his thigh. "Hey, play nice."

"I am playing nice."

"No. You're being a dick."

"This is him being a dick?" Tim asked, eyebrow raised. "You should meet my Damian. . . Hey how old are you anyway."

"I'm seventeen. Jon is fifteen."

Tim exchanged a look with Kon, right as Damian gave a small grunt.

"Sorry, I'm almost done, okay? Hold still," Jon said, lightly touching Damian's arm before tying off the string.

They almost acted like a couple, with the gentle touches and soft tones they used.

"That's cute," Bart said softly, almost as if he had read Tim's mind.

Jon's head snapped up, and he looked at Bart, cheeks turning red.

"So we should most likely talk to Father, and maybe Kord to see how to get us back," Damian said to Tim.

"Yeah. I'll call Bruce. I think he's in Paris though so he may not be much help."

"He'd still like to know what is going on."

Tim shook his head slightly. "Don't you two worry, we'll get you boys back to your own universe as quick as possible."

"We're not children, Drake," Damian muttered, shaking his head. "God I can't believe you picked Drake!"

So they called Bruce, headed to the watchtower, changing on the way. When Tim walked out from the room on the batwing that he had been changing in, Damian just stared at him.

"Why are you brown and yellow."

"It's my uniform."

"That is the blandest uniform I have ever seen. That's not even the colors of a Drake."

"What?" Tim asked confused."

"You're literally wearing the colors of a female duck," Damian explained.

"Dami! Don't be rude!"

"It's cause he's such a bottom," Kon commented, grinning at Tim.

"Okay, gross," Damian said, making a face.

"What? Is that not gay culture on your universe?"

"I wouldn't know, frankly," Damian said with a sigh, looking down at his touchscreen gauntlet, messing with it.

". . . So you two aren't dating then?"

Both of them looked at Kon in alarm.

"What?!" Jon screeched.

"Why would we be dating?"

"Because you guys are all gross and touchy," Kon said, even as he leaned on Tim.

"We are not!" Jon protested. "He's my best friend!"

And yet, when they got to the watchtower, the two walked with their arms pressed together, murmuring softly and pointing things out to each other and in general acting like a couple. Tim may not know this Damian, but he can read closeted gay anywhere. Well except himself.

All of the Justice League was wary of these new vigilantes, but interested too, asking questions. Tiny angry Damian was not impressed with older, happier Damian, but older Damian just smiled and spoke gently to younger Damian for a moment, and then the kid huffed in annoyance and ran off.

"What did you tell him?" Jon asked softly.

"That it was okay and he would make mistakes and to just learn from them instead of beating himself up. And that I was proud of him because I remembered how hard and confusing it was to follow Bruce's rules, but things will get better."

Jon smiled fondly at Damian. "Things you wish you had been told?"

"Maybe."

"Totally not dating," Tim mumbled as he walked past. They both glared after him.

It took a few hours for them to figure out how to send Damian and Jon back, meanwhile, the two just hung out with Tim and Kon and chatted, swapping stories and finding out information about each other. Tim really couldn't believe they weren't dating. They sure acted like it.

"Okay, kiddos," everyone looked up as Barry walked over. "Time to go, we've got it all figured out."

They walked over to where the portal was supposed to open.

"Thank you, for helping," Damian said, pressing on his mask.

"It was our pleasure," Tim said with a grin.

Jon said goodbye to Kon, and then ran after Damian through the portal. Tim just laughed and shook his head, and turned to Kon.

"I liked them."

"They were most definitely dating without realizing it yet."

"Oh yeah."

Send me a prompt!

164 notes · View notes

nonsensicalobsessions · 5 years

Text

Perchance to Dream

Author’s Notes: This is the sequel to my very first post on Tumblr, Shattered. While it picks up immediately where Shattered ends, it may help if you read it first.

Trigger warnings: grief

Tom knew Cara was dead. He knew because he felt her die in his arms, just as surely as he felt his heart shatter as she did.

She had nestled her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder, as she had done thousands of times before, and he spoke softly to her, words of tenderness and devotion. “I love you, Cara. I’ve got you, darling.”

As he rocked her gently in his arms, he felt her body slowly relax, and become limp as he continued, his voice remaining steady even as his tears were flowing steadily down his face. “Be at peace, sweetheart. You are loved.” He ignored the heart monitor as it stuttered, and became erratic. It didn’t matter.

Tom never once faltered, even as he felt her slight form begin to become so heavy, as it had never been in all the times he had held her before.

“Cara, I love you. With all of my heart, I love you. I don’t want you to go, I know you need to...but God...if I could keep you with me, I’d give anything I had, even my own breath, if I could get you to stay...you are so precious to me, Cara...you are loved, my darling, so loved...be at peace, knowing you are beloved and in my arms.

“I have you, my dearest, and you are loved...even though I thought I was running headlong into a row, as soon as my flight landed, I chucked my bags into the house, and ran straight to you, did you know that? Even thinking you were angry with me, that you weren’t speaking to me, I ran to you anyway...because I love you, Cara.”

The monitor showed frantic activity, then stilled. Tom kept talking.

“I have you, Cara. I have you.”

A nurse entered, saw how Tom was rocking Cara’s body in his arms, weeping as he caressed her with his words, sang to her with his touch. Silently, she turned off the monitor, and slipped out of the room again, allowing him to grieve.

Tom remembered reading somewhere that hearing was the last sense to leave the conscious brain and was determined Cara would know he was with her until the very end. “Darling, you take my heart with you. Please, forgive me for not taking better care of you. I would give anything to have you back, Cara, and don’t know how I am going to face my tomorrows without you.”

After awhile, Tom looked down at Cara, and found her face calm, and showing no sign of distress. She did not look as through she was asleep, but at least she did not look as though she was in pain. He took solace in that.

Carefully, as he had done so many times in the past, he extricated himself from her, as though she was sleeping and he was going for a morning run and he did to wish to disturb her. He arranged her carefully, tucking her in, and bent to kiss her forehead.

“Rest well, Cara,” he whispered. “I love you with all of my heart.”

He left her side, only looking back once, promising himself it wasn’t the last time he would see her. Certainly, there would be one last look, one last kiss, before all was said and done.

This could not be the end. No. It couldn’t be.

Somehow, he made it back to her home. He stumbled to her bedside, resolutely ignoring the bed and sheets, and found her phone. He tried to turn it on, fully expecting it to be completely dead, considering the state the display was in, but to his shock, it powered on...locked, of course. He slid to the floor, realizing he had no idea what her passcode was. It was a simple four digit code, bless her...he tried her birthday, and was promptly denied.

With a shaking hand, he tried his birthday...and the phone unlocked.

Tom’s hand was now trembling so badly he could scarcely see, but he began searching her contacts. He found a group of solicitors and rang, demanding to speak with the solicitor she had listed, insisting with the receptionist it was an emergency. Once he got the person on the line, Martin Fisher, he managed to give the necessary details without breaking down, and was assured that he no longer had anything to worry about, all of the necessary details and final arrangements would be handled by his office. He would be contacted shortly with regards to any official gatherings or requirements. For the moment, he had the full sympathies of the office for his loss.

He was left holding a dead line.

Two days later, when he had not heard anything, he arrived there in person, white faced but dressed impeccably in his best black suit, politely but firmly requesting to speak with Mr. Martin Fisher, and would not be denied. He was quickly shown into a private conference room, and an elderly, portly gentleman joined him within ten minutes.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I am sorry you did not telephone before coming, I could have spared you the trip. I was preparing to contact you this afternoon,” Martin Fisher introduced himself quickly with a warm, sympathetic handshake.

“Thank you, Mr. Fisher, but I was hoping to have heard from you by now about the arrangements for Cara’s services and simply couldn’t wait any longer.”

Martin looked at the handsome man before him and felt nothing but pity. Already the young man was clearly suffering from his loss, and now, he was forced to deal him another harsh blow.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I think it best that you sit down.”

“It’s just Tom...and why? What’s wrong?” Cautiously, Tom sat down, his heart sinking even lower than it already was resting.

“Tom, Ms. Hyde left very specific instructions in her will that were to be enacted immediately following her demise. Her will was quite simple with regards to her wishes for her final remains...she did not desire any services at all, you see. As she had no family, she did not expect there to be any to mourn her. Therefore she requested her body be cremated as soon as possible...”

“Cremated? But...surely, surely I will have a chance to, to say goodbye, to see her once last time, won’t I? I have to see her again, certainly I still haven’t lost...it could not have happened yet?” Tom stood so abruptly that the chair he had been seated in fell over to one side.

Martin shook his head in his deep sorrow to be the bearer of such bad tidings. “Tom, I’m afraid it already has.”

Tom had never fainted before, and he didn’t now...but it was a close thing. Knowing the kiss on the forehead back in hospital was to be the last for all time...that he would look upon her face no more...it sucked the air from his lungs, and the strength from his legs.

“Here, here...! Tom! Are you all right? Should I call a doctor?! Is there a friend, a family member I can call?”

Tom found himself leaning heavily against the gleaming, heavily polished table in the conference room, his face covered in sweat. “No. No, thank you, Martin. It’s simply the shock of it all...I was so sure, so sure I would be able to see her again...” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead, and then at his cheeks and eyes, completely unselfconsciously.

Martin wrung his hands in dismay. “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry. But the will was quite clear. Some clients wish us to move expeditiously for religious reasons, others for legal ones...I had no idea you were unaware of the timeline Ms. Hyde set forth. I can tell you that while all of her material wealth is to be donated to the nonprofit foundation she instituted for abused and orphaned youth, she did state that you were to have whatever you wished as mementoes, without limit or question...it was the last codicil in her will. The way she has it stated, you could basically carry away the entire contents of the house, if you like, including her vehicle...”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t want anything,” he could barely manage to say.

“I beg your pardon, Tom, I didn’t quite...”

“I don’t want anything from her home, I just want her back.”

Martin was silent for a moment, before gently replying, “You don’t have to decide now. In fact, I would urge you not to do so. Perhaps...perhaps it would comfort you right now if you had something quite personal. Like a blanket, or a throw, that belonged to Cara. You’re shaking, Tom.”

Tom looked at Martin and replied simply, “I’m very cold.” The life had drained from his usually sparkling eyes, and there was no color in his complexion.

“Yes, grief will do that to you. Go to Cara’s, Tom, and get some of her blankets. They will help, I think. Are you sure I can’t call anyone for you?”

“Yes, I’m sure...I have a car waiting. Thank you, Martin.”

“Tom, we are releasing the news of her passing tomorrow. Just so you know. I wouldn’t want you to be in her home and be unprepared, I am certain there will be some media presence that will take photographs.”

“Of course. Thank you, Martin.”

“If there is anything I can do...” the solicitor added helplessly.

Tom shook his head, then the gentleman’s hand as he rubbed his chest absently. “No, thank you, Martin. You’ve been more than kind.”

The next day, the literary world at large as well as the UK in general was shocked and stunned to hear of the sudden passing of Cara Hyde, celebrated and award-winning author and poet.

As soon as Diana Hiddleston, Ben Cumberbatch, and Luke Windsor learned the news, they suddenly understood why none of them had heard from Tom since he returned from his press tour, returning neither their texts nor calls. All of them immediately descended upon Tom’s home at the same time after coordinating with each other.

Diana rang the bell, pleaded into the speaker. “Tom, it’s Mum. Please let me in, I’m worried about you. Please, son.”

When there was no response, she sighed and used her own key to open the door.

The trio found Tom sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in and hugging an afghan looking ahead into space blankly. Diana approached him cautiously, her face a study in sadness. “Tom, darling. It’s Mum. Are you all right, dear?”

“Mum?” Tom’s face and voice was curiously childlike as his eyes slowly focused on Diana. “Why are you here?”

“Darling, you haven’t been answering your calls, and we all started to worry about you.”

Tom’s face crumpled. “She’s dead, Mum. Cara’s dead.”

Diana wrapped her son into gentle embrace, sitting besides him. “I know, son. I heard.”

His face became twisted and bitter. “But did you hear how it was my fault, Mum? I killed her, Mum. I killed her.”

Luke decided to speak now. “How is it your fault, Tom? Tell me, so I know how to protect you.”

“I don’t deserve to be protected, Luke. God, I loved that woman, and I killed her.”

“Explain it to us anyway.” Ben’s voice was calmness itself.

Tom shook his head in self-condemnation. “She bled to death, Ben. In this day and age, she bled to death in her own bed, because she dropped her phone, and couldn’t call for help...”

“Then how is this your fault?”

“Because I knew. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t do anything about it. I was so bloody cock sure she was sulking about a fight we had, a row I started, even though it was completely out of character for her to go silent. If any of you suddenly stopped talking to me, I wouldn’t be so complacent. I’d ask someone to check on you. But for the woman I love, what did I do? Nothing. Cara never shut me out. Never. But I still immediately assumed she was giving me the silent treatment...why? Why did I do that, Cara, I’m so sorry!” Tom doubled over in a paroxysm of grief, although he did not sob. His tears had dried up days before. Tom’s own inability to speak was terrifying.

Luke discreetly contacted a physician, requesting him to come to Tom’s address, with something to help Tom cope with his pain...

Diana was rocking her son, in a similar manner Tom had used days earlier, unwittingly increasing his distress. “Tom. Do you even know what happened? Perhaps there was nothing that could have been done for Cara in any case, sometimes...”

When he found his voice again, it was hoarse. “No. I only caught every other thing they were saying at the A&E...I found her in her bed, Mum, called for an ambulance, rode with her...she was able to speak with me, I was so sure she would be all right, even though there was,” he grimaced, and swallowed hard as he recollected painfully, “blood, so much blood...” Tom drifted off, trapped in his memories, awash in his overwhelming sorrow and guilt.

Diana brought him back to the present by stroking his cheek and he continued. “The doctor told me that even though Cara was still conscious, it was a miracle, she was already dying from the blood loss, it had gone on for too long...if she had only gotten help sooner, it would have been different...” Tom then rattled off a bunch of medical terms that clearly meant nothing to him, but had Ben and Diana exchanging despairing, alarmed looks over Tom’s head. Tom was already so distraught, there was no telling how devastated he would be once he learned the true cause of her death.

Luke texted the physician, asking him to hurry...

Tom felt as though he was being repeatedly dashed against the rocks, his soul drowning in an undertow of misery, but he was no longer catatonic. He could hear Cara’s voice, telling him, “Tom...I can’t...can’t breathe, Tom...” His heart cried out to her, “Oh, God, Cara, neither can I, my love...”

“What? What is it, what does all that mean, I don’t understand and at the time I didn’t ask, it didn’t matter...what happened to Cara? Mum...?” He turned to her, instinctively knowing she could explain, his face once more soft, open, as a child’s.

The howls of anguish that could be heard outside his home was more apropos of a horror film than a quiet, well-to-do London suburb.

Months passed in a haze, a blur. Tom began seeing a therapist to help him deal with his overwhelming guilt and sorrow, especially as the holidays drew closer. He was both blessed and cursed with having time off already built into his schedule. He had planned, had hoped, to spend the time with Cara. He knew he was exhausted to begin with, it was one of the reasons he was so short with her to begin with during that last ill-fated video call. He was missing her so very badly as it was...he had wanted nothing more than to drop everything, and return to her side.

He spent much of his free time running. He even picked up rowing again. But no matter how quickly he made his body move, he could never outrace his mind. Nor could he slow his thoughts enough to relax long enough to read for very long, unless it was Cara’s poetry.

Cara’s gentle ways of caring for him had become a part of his life, without him even becoming aware of them, and once they were gone, the easiest of social interactions often felt caustic and abrasive. Intellectually, he understood this was grief. Emotionally, he quailed from the most basic forms of communication with the world at large, and knew he was behaving as reclusively as Cara herself was accused of by his own friends and family. This stung his heart badly. “I understand now, darling,” he thought miserably, after his mother chided him to get out more. “I never realized how difficult it was on you, when you were having a bad go of it, to do the simplest things. So many people, hectoring you to pick up and get on with it. No wonder your poetry is so gentle, tender, and profound. It speaks for those who have no words, just silent screams...but you never showed me that side of you. I wish you would have...but I understand why you didn’t.”

While he was trying to manage his feelings, all he capable of was finding ways of concealing them from those who loved him, and worried about him. Intellectually, he understood it was not his fault Cara died. He could not have known from across the globe what was going wrong inside her body. He was not a mind reader. Cara would have never expected him to be one.

Emotionally, he still was enraged over how he took her for granted, and was so quick to assume she was playing some sort of game with him, she, who had never stooped to such childish emotional manipulations. He should have done better, should have had someone check on her. He was inexcusably, unforgivably careless with his darling, and she paid for it with her life, and he was being punished for it by being forced to live without her for the rest of his. Not a day, not an hour went by that he didn’t regret his decisions.

He kept her photo on his nightstand, and told her goodnight every evening, “I love you, Cara...I’d give anything, anything, to have you back in my arms, sweetheart. I miss you so much. I hope to see you in my dreams tonight.”

He did dream, but sometimes those dreams were more a lash for his back than a solace. He would wake, shivering, remembering how very cold Cara had been, and feel as though he, too was freezing, his hands and feet like ice, even as he was drenched in sweat. He would wake in tears, feeling the pain of losing her as though it had happened the day before instead of weeks, or months ago. Or worse, he would dream of Cara being with him again, as though nothing had ever happened, and he would be filled with so much joy his chest would ache from it...and he would wake to his cold bed of grief and agony once more.

But some dreams would be worth the pain awakening would inevitably bring, nights spent wrapped in Cara’s arms, passionately tangled limbs, a consciousness blissfully free of loss. Skies filled with sunshine. Hands held, eyes constantly filled with his beloved. Endless conversation, and laughter, always laughter. Hearts dancing as merrily as their feet, fireplaces and snow and afghans and hot chocolate cuddles and Cara reciting poetry to Tom’s enraptured ears, plans made for a future together...

“If we could go anywhere in the world, dearest Cara, where would we go?”

“Anywhere, mmm, tall order, my giant...I’ve never thrown my imagination’s atlas open that wide, and well you know it.” Cara leaned over and planted a kiss on the edge of Tom’s jaw, as they snuggled together in Tom’s bed, listening to the rain pouring down on the rooftop, the wind lashing sheets of it against the windows. December never felt so cold, so bleak before now.

He wrapped his bare arms around her, pulling her even closer. Her skin felt chilled next to his. Tom pulled the blankets tighter around them, and Cara sighed, sounding almost like a contented cat. He knew he had more than contented her well and throughly earlier, but this went deeper, it was coming from her soul, and he gloried in it.

“It’s disgraceful, a celebrated, award-winning author such as yourself, being so self-limiting,” he teased her. “Think on it. Throw the world’s door wide open, my love.”

“Oh, gods, Thomas...someplace warm,” she moaned, and burrowed her head into the crook of his neck, snuggling into his arms as tightly as she could. “I’m so tired of the grey and the cold already, and it’s just begun! I want birds, blue skies, warm water...”

“A blue sky holiday then, it’s decided...but where?”

In his sleep, Tom smiled, and rubbed his chest slowly as he turned over.

Christmas came. Christmas went. Tom smiled as he went to the parties, the gatherings. He said all the right things. He told the ridiculous jokes he was known for, and made plans for the new year, new projects that were set to begin soon. His short rest was nearly over.

Those that knew him best saw how his smiles never reached his eyes, how his laughter was hollow, and his infamous appetite was lacking...but he was trying. That had to count for something, and it had only been a few months still. At least he was a far cry from the guilt-ridden, grief-stricken, catatonic man they found that afternoon. Progress, however slow, was progress...

New Year’s Eve.

Ben was hoping his annual party would give Tom a few hours of happiness, but through no fault of his own, it began on a somber note. Many of his guests were discussing the tragic plane crash that had taken place earlier in the day. An aircraft had disappeared from radar over the Pacific, and it was feared there would be no survivors. Some of the passengers were reportedly from the United Kingdom, and the BBC was providing nonstop coverage.

“Turn that off, would you?” Tom was irritable from overhearing the chatter of both the telly and the guests. “It’s ghoulish.”

“Sorry.” Ben was quick to comply, switching off the set in the kitchen. “I was hoping to catch some cricket scores, but they won’t stop playing this on the news. Can I get you anything? Have something to eat, Tom.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“Aw, come on, here, there’s a lovely carrot dish. It will help you see in the dark, carrots.”

Tom rolled his eyes expressively. “Ah, yes. And wanking will make you go blind, if you dream you are going to die and don’t wake up, you die in reality, and bad things happen in threes.”

Ben’s smile resembled a shark. “So, where’s your seeing eye dog, mate?”

Tom’s laugh was genuine. “Fuck you, Ben. Everyone knows that’s why you eat so many God damned carrots!”

As the evening progressed, Tom grew weary of the celebrations, and found Ben to thank him and say good night.

“No, Tom, not yet. It’s not even midnight, you can’t possibly wish to leave so soon...what’s your hurry, it’s not as though...” Ben pulled himself up short before he continued any further, but the damage was already done.

Tom gave him a wintry smile. “Yes, it’s not as though I have anything or anyone to hurry home to, thank you for reminding me Ben.”

“Oh, Tom, don’t be like this, you know I didn’t mean anything by it...I just hate to see you close yourself off like...”

“Like Cara did?”

Ben closed his eyes and turned away.

“It’s only been three months, Ben. I think I have every right to still be mourning her, and mourn her I do. I can’t help but still look for her, everywhere I go, did you know that? I’m still looking for her, waiting to hear her voice. It’s as though she’s always just in the other room.”

“Tom, have you talked with...”

“Yes, I’ve spoken with Michael, my therapist, about it. He said grieving is a process, and mine is no more prolonged than usual.” Tom sighed, and rubbed his chest absentmindedly.

“You keep doing that, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“That.” Ben gestured with his glass. “Rubbing your chest. Are you having chest pains?”

Tom rolled his eyes again. “Ben, I’ve been having chest pains now for three months. Ass.”

“Have you...”

“No, I have not been to a doctor about it, nor will I. I’m not having a heart attack. Life is not that easy.” Tom stopped at the door, after he donned his pea coat. “Ben, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for...Cara’s...death...put me off balance. I want to go through life looking for joy, and happiness, because there is already so much pain in the world. When she died, and the dream that died with her...it took so much out of me. But with this new year, I am going to do my level best to start looking for the joy in life again. Even with this terrible plane crash that no one can stop talking about...”

“Come for lunch tomorrow?”

“What’s that?” Tom’s musings were interrupted by Ben’s impromptu invitation.

“You know I’m going to have a mess of food left over, so come for lunch tomorrow. I insist. Noon on the nose, or else I will come and drag you out of your bed and you know I will, Hiddleston. I will stuff you stupid with pudding and carrots and whatever else is left. You’ve not eaten right in quite some time and you need to get fit again. The studio is going to go spare when they see the shape you’re in. No one wants to see your scrawny ass like this. There will be loads of pudding left over. Carrots. Even chicken and beef, Thomas. So lunch, or face most dire consequences, oh scrawny-one.”

Tom glared at his best friend, and then grinned, giving him a hug. “You’re such a tosser, Ben, I don’t see how we’re friends. Happy New Year,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. Happy New Year...and I’m sorry I interrupted you earlier.”

Tom shrugged, muttered something that Ben only half understood, and ambled off into the darkness. It was a dreary night, but he didn’t mind the walk. Halfway home, it began to rain.

“Of course,” he sighed. He changed his pace from a leisurely walk to a jog.

Once he was home, he peeled off his coat and wet clothes, had a shower to warm himself back up. Then with a sigh, he crawled into bed.

As he always did, he turned and faced the photo of Cara sitting besides his bed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed. “God, I don’t want to face a new year without you.” Sadness settled into him, a familiar heaviness that was never away from him for very long.

Weariness flooded his being. The notion of beginning work again was almost crushing. The man who was usually vibrating with excitement, impatient to begin any new project, felt like a stranger, someone that not only he didn’t know, but someone he wasn’t sure he would even like to meet. The enthusiasm and energy would be too much to tolerate.

He tried to scold himself, to remind himself of what he had just told Ben about embracing joy again. Then he remembered what Michael, his therapist had advised him:

You need to be honest with yourself, Tom. Grieve when you need to grieve. Forcing yourself to suppress your sorrow will not only do you no good, it will actually do you just as must damage as wallowing in it. Honesty above all, Tom. Isn’t that a quality you’ve espoused, repeatedly?

He swallowed over the lump in his throat, looking at Cara’s warm smile, frozen in time.

“God, I loved you so much,” he choked out. “I still do, my darling. I would give up anything, anything at all, to have you back in my arms. I would give up everything. I can’t believe you’re gone because I was so stupid, so careless...how could I have been so foolish? How could I have thought for one single moment you were playing games?” He pressed his hand to his aching heart, as if he could somehow stop the pain through direct pressure like a bleeding wound.

“I held you in my arms and you slipped away from me...I will never get over that, Cara. I was supposed to be getting home to spend time with you...I can’t begin to tell you how much I was looking forward to having days upon days to do nothing but be in your presence, have your voice fill my ears, your face ever in my sight...I was going to have to restrain myself from smothering you. I was so certain you were angry with me, but I came running to you as soon as I was home, to the point I even took advantage of knowing where your key was and letting myself into your home...”

Tom was unabashedly weeping, and in a way, it was a relief, to have the freedom to weep in the privacy of the bed he’d shared with Cara, along with his body, so many nights. There was no one to try to stifle his tears. He looked at Cara’s face, and for a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of sympathy in her smile. She always listened to him, and never disparaged his thoughts or feelings. Which made his assumption she was sulking even more arrogant and inexplicable.

“Cara. Cara, I wish I could take it all back. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I can’t get past it...I would give up everything to make it right, my love. You deserved so much better. I love you with my entire being, and I would give you my very last breath to give you yours back. Forgive me, my dearest...wherever you are, forgive me. I would give anything, everything, to make it right...”

He looked at her photo one last time, and sighed, “Goodnight, my darling. I love you, and hope to dream of having you in my arms. You are everything to me. Goodnight, sweet Cara.”

He closed his eyes, and fell asleep before the clock heralded the new year had begun.

He opened his eyes, and squinted. Tired, God so tired. Where the hell was he?

He sat up, looked around. Hotel room...the same hotel he was in...for the press tour, that God damned last press tour...wait.

He grabbed his phone. The date, the date, what was the fucking date...

It was the day after his disastrous video conversation with Cara. He frantically dialed her.

No response.

Texted her.

No reply.

NononoNO! Not so soon, she couldn’t have fallen ill so soon after the call, could she? He never had a frame of reference...he panicked inwardly. What to do, what to do...he always wanted to change things, but now that he had his chance, he was at a loss. He had hoped to talk with Cara before she actually became incapacitated, but it seemed like that particular window had closed. Should he call his mother? No, that wouldn’t work, Cara didn’t fully trust his mother, and he would most likely assure Diana that nothing was wrong, that Tom was just being silly, was overreacting...

Fuck it. He was calling emergency services. He would flat out lie to them, he didn’t care. It was a dream, anyway...wasn’t it? This was nothing more than a wish fulfillment lucid dream. He’d read all about them, and God, it was going to suck so badly when he awoke, but he was going to make it right this time, this was the way his subconscious was going to give him peace...

Dialing 999 from halfway across the world was surreal, but through the miracles of technology it was done. Tom concocted a story of how he was speaking with Cara on the phone, how she was complaining of feeling ill with sharp abdominal pain with sudden bleeding, and then she cried out and line went dead. He could no longer reach her. He was desperately afraid for her well being. Would someone please go and check on her? He could even tell them how to access the house, and was more than willing to remain on the line as long as necessary...he was packing his bags as he spoke, and was heading for the airport, his fingers flying across the keyboard, changing his reservations to the first available flight back to London.

It wasn’t nearly as long as it felt before a voice told him, “Tom, you nailed it. We found your girl in bed, and she needs to get to hospital right away. I can’t say exactly what is wrong with her, but the reason you couldn’t get through to her is she dropped her mobile and was too weak to retrieve it. If she didn’t get medical intervention soon...well, let’s not even go there! We’re getting her loaded into the ambulance now. I know you said your plane is going to be taking off soon, but someone will be keeping in touch with you as best they can, will your flight have WiFi?”

Once Tom confirmed that he would indeed have WiFi capability once his plane reached cruising altitude, the first responder took his information and concluded, “Seriously, mate...you saved her life by making this call. Well done. Boyfriend of the year award, right here.”

Tom took a deep breath. “I just want her to be okay.”

“Well, you certainly took a step in the right direction. Look gotta go.”

“So do I, they’re closing the doors.”

Tom was shaking so violently the flight attendants thought he was reacting to takeoff and were offering him different ways to help him relax. He kept waving them off politely, and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He’d done it. Even though it was just a dream, he’d done it...he could feel the tears threatening, and the massive lump in his throat restricting his breathing. He knew he’d be waking any moment now.

Any moment.

He pinched himself. He should be waking now. Dream time was a funny thing, the way it would ebb and flow. This dream had been going on for...he checked his watch...how long now?!

He would rest. He would close his eyes, and when he woke up, he would be back in Belsize. He didn’t want to be, but at least, this one time, in his foolish dreams, he had saved his beloved.

Clutching his mobile to his aching heart, he closed his eyes, tears threatening still, and took a shuddering breath.

He opened his eyes.

He was still on the plane.

Wildly, he looked around him. This was impossible.

His mobile vibrated in his hand, and he jumped, badly startled.

It was the hospital, informing him that Cara was having emergency surgery, and she was listed as being in critical but stable condition.

Tom pinched himself again, and again, and again. Nothing changed. He was still very much in an airplane seat, streaking towards London. Cara was still very much alive, and he...

...he was somehow still in his own dream.

“Am I dead?” He looked at where he had been pinching himself, and he could see the beginning of bruises. “No, dead people don’t tend to bruise...and dead people don’t have to pee,” he realized, as he recognized he was going to have to make use of the airplane’s loo. He stood, and stretched his legs.

As he used the facility, his mind continued to spin frantically. “If I’m still dreaming, will I wake up when I wake up from this dreamscape?”

That made sense. Sorrow swamped him. For a moment there, he was beginning to believe the impossible, and oh, how sweet that impossibility was. The thought, the idea, he might see his sweet Cara again, the kiss in that hospital room would not be the last, was more intoxicating and mind blowing than any alcohol or drug even known.

“I can’t,” he grimly told himself. “I simply cannot continue with this false hope. I am going to force myself out of this. Losing her once was excruciating, I cannot bear to think of having to do so again. I am ripping this plaster off. If I have to spend the next three days on a bender, I will do it, but I am not going to live in this lie.”

He gave the flight attendant his best smile, and asked for three servings of scotch. Neat. Which he proceeded to take as precisely as though they were medications lined up in little cups.

Soon, he was as high as the plane...and then, he was asleep, with a dopey smile on his face. Scotch on an empty stomach was a sure-fire way for him to sleep under any circumstances. It might have a nasty wake-up call, but hell, he wouldn’t care. Dream Tom would be gone, and Real Tom wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Tom awoke to realize Dream Tom and Real Tom were both suffering with a massive headache, both on the same fucking airplane, and both had to vomit.

Thankfully, all of the Toms involved made it to the loo in a polite and timely fashion, managed to sick up the scotch without unduly offending anyone other than themselves (thank God, thank God, most passengers were asleep) and return to their seat without incident. He began to drink copious amounts of water and stop thinking of himself in terms of multiples. That made the headache worse.

He looked at his mobile fearfully. There were several messages there. One from the hospital, informing him that Cara was out of surgery and faring quite well. Another from his abandoned press agent, scolding him for bunking off and leaving early, although the last panel was of small moment and no harm was done. “What’s going on,” she questioned, “is something wrong? You left without saying a word to anyone, changing your reservation and everything. I hope all is well with your family. It’s not like you, Tom. I’m worried. Let me know.” Guilt reared its ugly head, here was a perfect example of someone reaching out instead of being complacent...

The last text was from an unknown number.

~Tom, this is Cara. I am using my agent’s phone. I don’t know how you knew...but thank you. You saved me, Tom. I am so very, very sorry about everything. I love you, and hope you still love me in spite of everything that has gone wrong.

His heart thudded painfully. Skipped several beats...then began pounding faster than the jet engines were spinning...

~Cara, it’s Tom. My darling, you must be on some pretty good drugs. How could I not still love you? I am flying to your side as quickly as I can. SO DON’T MOVE. You have my heart. PS What happened to your phone, sweetheart? I tremble when I think of all of the incriminating photographs...

~Tom, all you have ever sent me are pictures of puddings, bad jokes, cute baby animals, and more bad jokes.

~I know...think of how my image would suffer...I am supposed to be sending you sexy photos. Setting you on fire, driving you wild with desire....and the jokes aren’t THAT bad...are they?

~Please. Please don’t make me laugh. Hurts.

~Well. Maybe then I might let the world see the incriminating photos I have of the award winning author that is Cara Hyde.

~Yes. I think the world is ready to see the ground breaking photos of my flipping you off. With the sweetest smile imaginable. No one will believe it, btw. Everyone thinks I am shy and silent and demure.

~You have the world completely snowed.

~I am really a member of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Licensed to Kill.

~I believe it. Rest, my beloved. I can’t wait to see you and hold you and—

~Stop right there, Shakespeare. This still isn’t my phone.

~I’m landing in a few hours. Rest, Cara.

~Hi, Tom. This is Molly, Cara’s agent. I’ll make sure she rests until you arrive. And I will make sure she gets a replacement phone. You two are making my blood sugar spike. Ugh.

Tom approached Cara’s hospital room with trepidation and heart pounding joy. He said he was going to be looking for the joy in the world, but this was not what he thought was in the realm of the possible.

He entered a completely different room, of course. He could hardly breathe, his hands and feet were cold, and he was trembling.

Cara blinked at him sleepily. She was hooked up to a variety of monitors, but this time, the heart monitor was beeping in a quiet, happily regular rhythm, and there were several bags of fluids hanging over her head, with machines beeping in counterpoint. “Tom? Why are you standing over there? Won’t you—”

She could say no more, for Tom had crossed the room in two quick strides and had her in his arms, covering her face with his kisses. “Cara, my Cara, my Cara...” He had the side rail down, and he was now engulfing her body with hers in an all-encompassing embrace.

“Tom...Tom, you’re freezing, and shaking like a leaf,” Cara pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks with both of her hands, her expression dismayed in the light of his pain.

Looking at her face, hearing her voice once more, Tom found he couldn’t speak. He didn’t deserve this second chance, for now he had come to believe that somehow, for some reason, he was being gifted with just that. He didn’t deserve it, he couldn’t understand it, but for some blessed reason, he was holding his beloved in his arms once more.

Cara bit her lip, and buried her face in Tom’s neck. “Tom, I...I’m sorry, I...”

He pulled away from her immediately, his eyes glowing fiercely.

“Cara, I came so close to losing you that I can scarcely breathe when I think about it. I cannot speak plainer. I can’t bear it, Cara, you have no idea...” Tom took a hand and pressed his palm deeply into his chest, shaking his head violently. “There is nothing more important to me than having you in my life, nothing at all. I would give up anything, everything, to keep you here besides me!” He cupped her face gently, and kissed her lips. With all of his strength he suppressed the memory of kissing her forehead in another room in this same hospital. “Please say you believe me, Cara.”

Tears were flowing down her face in a thick stream as she nodded.

He leaned forward and touched his head against hers, and began to murmur words that were private and meant for her ears alone, words that brought both of them to more tears, but these were tears of healing, and they wrapped their arms around each other tightly. Tom nuzzled her lovingly. Swearing to himself this time, he was never going to let her go, for any reason. He had learned his lesson. She could live in her home, she could live in his home, but he was never going to let her go.

Once she was discharged, he did as he once dreamed in his other life, the one he was determined to put behind him forever. He asked her where would she like to go, if they could go anywhere in the world. And as she did in his dream, she confessed she wanted to go someplace warm. As Tom still had his downtime, he splurged and took himself and his sweetheart to Fiji. Neither of them had ever been, and it was the trip of a lifetime. Crystal blue waters, blue skies to rival the color of those waters, warm sun that pinked both of their skins (in very interesting places, as they were enjoying a very private location) and starry nights that filled their eyes.

It was with great regret they had to leave.

As they settled into their plane, Tom and Cara were giggly and relaxed as they had never been before in their entire lives. Two and a half months of fun, laughter, complete privacy, relaxation, love, and each other...and a promise made they had not shared with anyone else yet, but that would tie them together even closer still. Tom knew it was the most natural step in the world. And they would be taking this next step to further another natural step.

There was going to be one more project to complete, and then he was going to stop traveling about the world for movies. He was done. Theater was in his blood, he would always want to tread the boards, but he was ready to stay home now. No more chasing the brass ring. There were other rings he was more interested in, and Cara was thrilled. She had been very worried he was going to put himself back on another treadmill, and would become exhausted all over again. He was willing to travel to do theater stints abroad, but no more movies that would require extensive publicity tours pre- and post-production as well as filming around the globe.

However, as Tom and Cara were teasing and laughing, there was something that was bothering Tom. Something frustrating him, niggling at the back of his head.

It wasn’t until the plane lurched unexpectedly over the ocean that he remembered the date, the name of the airlines they were flying on, and the flight number.

It was New Year’s Day, and Tom was late for lunch. Late for pudding. Ben grumbled as he turned to his wife, “I swore to him that if he was late, I was going to drag him here, and drag him I shall.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sophie advised him softly. “You don’t know how he slept last night. It may have been very hard for him to let go of the old year, or look forward to the new.”

Ben leaned towards her and kissed her cheek gently. “You are an angel, and I don’t know what I would do without you,” he confessed, his eyes soft as he looked at her with love. “There is nowhere I would rather be than...” he trailed off, his mind beginning to race, his head cocked to the side.

Sophie, unaware, was putting away cutlery and glasses from the party. “I feel so badly for Tom. I saw him rubbing his chest all night. You know, he reminded me of my grandfather each time. He died within three months of my grandmother, the death cert said heart failure but we all knew it was from a broken heart...”

Ben whipped his head around. “Say that again.”

“What?”

He gripped her upper arms carefully. “Repeat exactly what you just said, Sophie.”

Her eyes wide, she did so.

While Ben only played Sherlock on television, he did have a keen analytical mind of his own, and his mind was quickly putting together a frightening picture of his own, and he did not like what he was coming up with, at all.

Tom’s last words to him yesterday evening were, “You know Ben, as much as I feel so keenly for those waiting for news of loved ones that may never come home to them, I envy those who were seated next to their loved ones on that plane...while no one wants to die, knowing that you are going to be with your beloved when you leave this earth? Holding their hand, being in their arms? I can’t help but think, it’s not a bad place to be.”

“...if you dream you are going to die and don’t wake up, you die in reality, and bad things happen in threes.”

“Bad things happen in threes.”

“If you dream of dying and you don’t wake up, you die in reality.”

The plane crash.

Cara dying.

Tom continually wincing and rubbing his chest... caustically saying, “Ben, I’ve been having chest pains now for three months. Ass.”

His grief so profound, his guilt still unassuaged...Sophie casually mentioning dying from a broken heart...and now, Tom, late for pudding?

And this sick, sick feeling in his own gut, of something gone terribly wrong.

He didn’t say a word to Sophie, just ran to his car, jumped in and peeled out, speeding off to Tom’s home. Ever since the horrible day they found him after Cara died, everyone had a key to his home, and Tom no longer cared. He no longer felt he had a life so private he had to guard it.

The plane was lurching at sickening angles, and the air was filled with voices screaming. There was a small voice in Tom’s head that kept insisting that if he would just wake up, he would be fine. He shook his head, and took a deep breath.

The flight attendants were urging everyone to assume the brace position. Cara looked at Tom in amazement, for he seemed to be completely at peace, despite the horrific chaos that swirled around him. In fact he was...smiling?

He took her hand and sandwiched them in both of his, and spoke in the low baritone that never failed to both thrill and calm her by turns.

“Darling? I don’t see as to where we really need to get into a brace position. Do you?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. She knew they were over the ocean. She recognized how very perilous their situation was, and shook her head.

“No, Tom. I don’t.”

He nodded, and leaned over to unbuckle her, then easily lifted her body to pull her into his lap. She snuggled into him as she had done a thousand times before. Snickering, Tom then buckled them both in together, somehow managing it, huskily whispering in her ear, “Good thing you’re so tiny, love, as I don’t think I’d be able to find an extender just now.”

“I can’t believe you can make me laugh at a time like this...!”

“Darling, the way you’re wiggling your sweet bum in my lap, you’re making me—”

And with all the screaming and wailing and panic and despair, Cara cried out “Thomas William!” in a scandalized, laughter-filled voice. Tom wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, delighting in the scent of her shampoo and perfume and just her, laughing along with her.

The plane gave another drunken lurch and he was glad for both the belt and the strength in his arms. Because he had sworn he was never going to let her go.

Cara looked in his eyes and confessed, “Maybe I’ve been living on borrowed time, ever since you called that ambulance.”

Tom looked into hers, and replied, “Maybe that’s so, but I want you to know one thing: there is nowhere, nowhere on earth that I would rather be, right now, than where I am, with you, here, in my arms. I would give up anything, and everything, to be here with you. I love you, Cara.”

“Oh, Tom. I love you too.” She felt his arms tighten around her body as she turned her face into his neck and shoulder.

He smiled, his face smelling her hair, and one hand crossed over, cupped her cheek lovingly.

“I have you, Cara. I have you.”

“Tom? TOM!”

Ben was out of breath from calling, and running from the car, into the house, up the stairs.

He found Tom lying peacefully in bed, curled on his side, almost as though he was in a seated position, a faint smile on his lips, with one hand curled up, pressed against his chest, and the other arm extended, with the palm out, as though he was cupping something, as his head faced Cara’s smiling photograph at his bedside table.

TAGGING: @hopelessromanticspoonie @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @winterisakiller @redfoxwritesstuff @sabine-leo @vodka-and-some-sass @theheartofpenelope

#tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston angst #perchance to dream #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x ofc #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 4 years

Text

Brigid And Elizabeth

This is a story set within my Bioshock Rebirth AU. A reimaging/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an Just as a heads up if anyone is wondering about the context. I’ve had some stories in my drafts for a long time now and I’m finally publicly sharing them.

Back at Tenenbaum’s safehouse. The three adults were in the room behind the see through glass. Brigid was showcasing a map of some areas Archie hadn’t look at yet and he listened. Places that possibly weren’t filled with Splicers yet. During this, Elizabeth was reading a book. Possibly something Tenenbaum kept around since in a way she was living here at this safehouse. Not every book was about science or some others. Elizabeth asked earlier if she could read it, Brigid had said yes.

“There is this one area I haven’t checked yet. I am not sure if Splicers are there. But I hear it’s mainly empty in there. Yet I’d would be careful if I were you young man. There hopefully we can find another little one.” Brigid told him.

“Alright then. That’s good to know.” He said looking at the map. He then got distracted by looking at Elizabeth. She was really into the book and she hadn’t noticed him staring. Brigid was speaking a bit more then she stopped.

She just looked at the man staring at Elizabeth as she turned her eyes towards her. It was finally quiet. Confused by the quietness, Elizabeth finally noticed Archie staring. She turned her face away from the book and lowered it down.

“Hi there.” Elizabeth said with a smile. Archie became flustered rather quickly and turned his face to his right. Seeming quite embarrassed by that.

“Is everything alright?” Elizabeth asked as she was confused.

“It’s fine. I was just seeing what you were reading.” Archie told her.

Brigid watched this. She saw the man’s face. That certain face someone makes when they see someone they like.

“Can I go into one of your extra rooms you have here please? I just wanna check any of my gear or whatever else if that’s fine with you Dr. Tenenbaum.” he asked her and called her doctor to respect her status as a scientist for some strange reason. Brigid gave a little smile.

“Yes you can do that. Take as long as you need. We can wait.” Brigid told him.

“Thank you.” he told her as he got up and walked away. He left the room and it was just the two ladies. Brigid just looked at Elizabeth with a smile as she looked behind to see Archie leave.

“He doesn’t need to be shy of wondering what the book was.” Elizabeth said thinking of what Archie said.

“Oh my child. He wasn’t looking at the book.” Brigid said with a smile. Elizabeth turned to her in confusion.

“what do you mean?” Elizabeth asked her.

“I’d thought you might notice he was looking at you” Brigid told her. “He was quite flustered when he looked back at you” Brigid just had this warm smile she gave to Elizabeth.

“Really?” Elizabeth said. “Why?” She asked her.

“I think it’s obvious he well...likes you” Brigid told her. “It seems pretty obvious”.

“Umm okay.” Elizabeth said. She felt confused and a little flustered. She now seemed a bit uneasy. Brigid’s smile dropped a bit as Elizabeth just looked at the table and the book was down.

“Hey....is something wrong?” Brigid asked her.

“I don’t know if I feel the same way about him” Elizabeth told her. “He seems very nice....but I’m not sure about feeling similar about him”. She felt honestly embarrassed in this case. That Brigid brought up this little thing.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel embarrassed. I’d thought you may of known.” Brigid told her.

“Yeah I feel a little embarrassed. I don’t think I have those feelings for him” She told her. It was a new feeling someone honestly liked her. But she wondered if they were serious feelings. “Is it just because I’m pretty? Maybe he just likes that I’m pretty to look at”. Elizabeth said, doubting the possibility of him having serious feelings. It might of been just a puppy dog crush he was feeling. They had only met yesterday.

Brigid saw Elizabeth had a frown. Seeing the young woman thinking that what if it’s nothing serious. It felt wrong to see this usually bright woman sad.

“No....it’s not that. I am sure he genuinely likes you” Brigid told her. But Elizabeth just gave her a smile when she looked back her. Before looking at the table again and not smiling. She wanted to cheer her up.

“To be honest. I was surprised seeing how soft he was.” Brigid told her as Elizabeth looked back at her with interest. “The young man seems to be very reserved with his emotions....despite he strangely has a sailors mouth.” she said and chuckled a little. “But considering who he was. I just had the fear he wouldn’t show that to my little ones. But he did. Especially with you. Tender and warm.” she kept on talking. “I feel like that seems rare to see in a man here in this city.” Brigid told her.

After saying that as Elizabeth just looked at her. Brigid’s smile went away when she remembered something. But it was something she wanted to tell Elizabeth.

“You know I used to be in a relationship with a man before what we were doing” Brigid told Elizabeth. “It’s something.....I don’t really wanna talk about.”

“You don’t have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable.” Elizabeth told her.

“No I feel it’s best you know. Because this reminds me of that in a way. I don’t wanna mention his name. But he was a man well....I wouldn’t really call it love. It was a relationship that had....problems.” Brigid continued on. “Honestly.....I wonder why I was even in it. Especially with a man who didn’t really love me.” Brigid told her.

Talking about Frank brought up bad memories. Memories she’d rather forget. Seeing Archie’s and Elizabeth’s relationship made her think back of even if it’s not a romantic relationship they are having. There was something beautiful about it.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Elizabeth told her.

“No don’t be sorry.” Brigid told her. “You didn’t have any involvement in it” she said and then put on a smile. “It’s just....even if you deny your feelings to Archie. There isn’t shame in that. But honestly...what you have with Archie is already better than what I had. I’m just glad I can witness it....I think it’s just almost rare to see it in Rapture” Brigid told her. Sounding saddened at the last part.

Elizabeth smiled at her. Seeing that smile brought up that smile of Brigid’s again. The two heard little girls laughing and blocks falling. They turned to look through the seeing glass. The girls couldn’t hear the ladies. But they didn’t care. They were just focused on having a nice time with each other. Just playing, singing, and other things. The two just stared at the children.

“You know they really like you.” Brigid told Elizabeth and she looked back at her. “Especially Sally seems to like you a lot”.

“Yeah they're all great. They are the sweetest little things.” Elizabeth told her.

“You’re better than me” Brigid just straight up told her before looking at the table with a frown now.

“What?” Elizabeth was confused by that. “Don’t think that. I think you're wonderful” She told the older woman.

“They see you like an older sister...and even like a princess”. Brigid told her. “I’m honestly grateful you actually get down to play with them. Yet I’m usually busy with my work to help them” She said. “Besides I don’t think I’m wonderful....if you knew more about me. You may think otherwise.” Brigid said looking the other way. The woman hated herself.

That guilt she would have to live with of what she did to those girls. It haunts her, and she felt weird that this young woman would consider her wonderful.

“I don’t even think I deserve to be called a mother.” She told Elizabeth.

“Hey.” Elizabeth put her left hand on Brigid’s shoulder. Brigid looked back at her. “I think what you are doing is wonderful. Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Those girls really love you.” Elizabeth told her.

Brigid just looked at her. Seeing the young woman smile at her with warmth. She meant every word she said. Brigid seemed confused this young woman wanted to make sure she felt okay. It was the warmest thing someone had done for her in a while.

“Thank you Elizabeth.” Brigid told her. As she put her left arm on Elizabeth’s hand who was touching her shoulder.

“Hey Ms. Tenenbaum?” Elizabeth asked Brigid. Why did you want to check Archie’s blood?” She asked that question.

Brigid’s eyes just widened a bit. Yet she wanted to answer. “It’s Brigid but thank you for calling me that anyway. His blood....he had been using ADAM quite a bit. I wanted to make sure if he was in good state. Because it’s addictive. I’m just looking out for the young man” She told Elizabeth.

But that wasn’t the real case. She wanted to check his blood for something else. He was hesitant at first of why she asked. But he understood when she mentioned the ADAM part. The young man looked similar to someone years back. Something that triggered memories. She took a shot of his blood and wanted to make sure...if it was really him.

This was something she didn’t wanna tell the man. Or even Elizabeth unless the time was right. She checked that blood when they weren’t looking. It genuinely shocked her. Yet she still felt in disbelief because it couldn’t be. Time had changed yet it was only for a few years.

She was supposed to never see him again if it was really him. But the blood doesn’t lie. He was supposed to be never found.

“Okay then...hey thanks for letting me read one of your books that don’t concern work.” Elizabeth told her. I find it nice you have a little library”.

“It’s no problem young one. I’d thought I’d would be here for a long while. I’d might as well make myself comfy. Besides it’s...not really safe where I used to live at. But I’m glad I can share this place with you and Archie.” Brigid told her. The little ones eyes brighten when they see you around.” Brigid told her.

After that, Elizabeth decided to hug the older woman. Brigid was surprised by this. Her eyes widen as Elizabeth slowly embraced her. Feeling her arms on her back.

“Thank you for letting us stay here. You're the best. Don’t forget that.” Elizabeth told her.

Brigid was just surprised. But after that she slowly put her arms around Elizabeth too. Their eyes were closed during that hug. She just embraced that warmth this young woman gave her. After all that self hatred. Yet her little ones loving her still affected her.

This also affected her. She just tearing up a bit.

“No...thank you.” Brigid told her. Elizabeth heard a little bit of sniffing.

“Hey don’t cry.” Elizabeth told her. They just sat there holding each other. There was something special about that. It was possibly the idea of not just another person, not just another daughter. But someone who can just talk to you and possibly understand you. Including the feeling again you're possibly the only thing she had closest to a mother.

#bioshock #bioshock rebirth #bioshock au #archie wynand #brigid tenenbaum #elizabeth comstock

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perspective-series · 5 years

Text

Vampire Perspective (5/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Death threats, slight starvation, unwanted touching, fear, Virgil

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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The next evening, about an hour after sunset, Virgil finally rose from his coffin. He pushed the lid to the side, giving a wide yawn.

Logan’s tired gaze immediately went to the vampire’s coffin as it was opened, revealing said vampire. He had tried to take a nap during the time he was alone but he found it difficult. He, maybe, got an hour rest at the most, so he was thoroughly exhausted.

And also very hungry.

Virgil came over, a pleased sort of expression on his face. “Evening.” He teased, looking into the cage.

Logan found himself scooting further back, trying to put as much distance between himself and the vampire as he could. He didn’t answer back, just looked down as he half-consciously clutched his stomach.

Virgil looked over the borrower. Something seemed… off. Was it getting sick? That would certainly be gross, almost like spoiled food. But it didn’t look particularly green. Still, Virgil sensed that this was more than just plain fear. It would be faster to just eat the borrower and be done with it, but now he found himself growing curious.

“What?” Virgil squinted. “What’s wrong with you?”

Logan bit his lip. “I-I am quite...hungry.” He said, not meeting the vampire’s red gaze. “I know you do not plan on me surviving here long but something to fill me up will surely make your own...meal of me a bit larger.” He hated that line of reasoning but he had to assume it would be the only one the vampire would listen to.

“...crap.” Virgil muttered to himself. He had forgotten mortals needed actual food. What did mortals eat these days, anyhow? Regardless, the borrower had a point. It would be more satisfying if the borrower was healthy (probably), and Virgil could always wait longer. He wasn’t feeling very famished tonight anyways.

“Alright, stay here.” Virgil gave a groan, puffing out into a bat and flying off into the forest. Humans were hunter/gatherers, and if borrowers still stole from humans they must eat the same things. Some meat would suffice, and likely any meat.

It was with this thought process that Virgil returned to his bedroom a few hours later, looking a bit bedraggled and holding his catch by its tail.

“Will this do?” Virgil asked, swinging the dead squirrel slightly back and forth.

Logan looked at the dead rodent in shock and disgust, holding his arm up to his nose to block out the horrid stench coming from it. “Er, n-no, I-I don’t eat raw meat...or cooked squirrel for that matter. Either could get me sick.” Who knew what kind of diseases the animal had?

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil’s nose crinkled in annoyance. “You’re seriously that picky and delicate? Jeez, how do you even survive.”

By not eating that. Logan thought, but didn’t say out loud. “We survive by living off the humans we live with. Taking scraps of food they leave out and things they wouldn’t miss to use as supplies.” Logan explained.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I ain’t human.” Virgil snarled. “What can you eat that’s outside?”

Logan flinched back before quickly trying to compose himself. “I...suppose berries would suffice. As long as they aren’t poisonous, of course.” Thankfully, Logan had been taught to tell as he was sure the vampire had no idea of such things.

“How the hell am I supposed to tell if they’re poisonous?” Virgil muttered, more to himself as he stomped out the door.

The vampire returned shortly, a strange assortment of berries in his hand and no dead squirrels in sight.

“Here.” He said gruffly, opening the cage and dumping them in.

Logan moved out of the way as the berries were dumped near him. He slowly moved closer, watching the vampire warily, before inspecting the different berries. He nodded. “Yes, most of these are safe to eat as far as I can tell.” He would avoid the few he wasn’t sure about or knew to be fairly poisonous. He picked one up and took a bite, almost moaning at finally having some food in him. He then paused. “...Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Virgil found himself watching the borrower, curious about his eating habits. He seemed to get weirdly into some of the berries, which was a bold statement for a guy who lived off blood.

Logan continued to eat, until he noticed the vampire staring at him. He paused and coughed awkwardly. “May I...help you?”

“You’re weird.” Virgil said bluntly.

Logan blinked, setting the berry down. “I’m...sorry?” The vampire was calling him weird?

“Borrowers are so strange.” Virgil frowned, now going off on a bit of a tangent. “If you all are so little and fragile, I don’t understand how you’ve survived this long.”

Logan sighed. “I understand why it may be hard for you to understand but it really is quite simple.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “We hardly ever venture out outside, at least, for the most part. We stay indoors and live off whatever humans live in the building. We stick to the inside of walls and make our homes there, hidden and away from anyone who might want to do us harm.”

Logan looked away, examining another berry. “Yes, it is very dangerous. But it’s life. I, and other borrowers, have been living this way for many, many years.”

“Believe me, I know, I was there.” Virgil gave an amused smirk.

Logan met Virgil’s eyes after a moment. “...Oh? How old are you, exactly?” He had heard vampires lived a long time but never knew what that meant.

“Older than you’ll ever be.” Virgil said cryptically.

“I...well, yes, I would assume so, I have heard vampires could live to be hundreds of years old. But that doesn’t quite answer my question.” Logan said, raising an eyebrow.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t you know it’s rude to ask a vamp his age?” Virgil teased. “But go on, guess. How old do I look? Just remember I don’t take well to insults.” Virgil gave a playful snap of his teeth.

Logan flinched back and gulped, adjusting his glasses. “Well...you look like you are only 22, maybe 24 at the most. But I know that is not the case based on how you are acting.” Logan hummed, looking the vampire over. “I’ll guess...200 years? Give or take a few years, of course.”

Virgil stared at the borrower for a long time, taking pleasure in the way he squirmed uncomfortably.

“You flatter me.” Virgil finally said, giving him a pleased- well, not exactly a smile, but not the usual condescending smirk either. “I’m older, actually. 764 years come December.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “That...is certainly a long time to be alive.” He would be but a small blip in the vampire’s timeline. A thought that really put his own existence into thought.

“Yeah.” Virgil shrugged. The whole immortality thing lost its appeal somewhere in the century or two he spent alone. “How old are you, anyhow?”

“I am 24.” Logan answered.

“Weird.” Virgil tried to think back to when he was 24- he thought it had something to do with the plague.

Logan thought that was a better way to summarize the vampire, not himself. He ate another bite of a berry in careful thought. “I know...it does not really matter. But it’s getting tiresome referring to you as ‘the vampire’. What is your name?”

Virgil blinked, surprised the borrower was even curious. “Why do you care? I thought you were supposed to be quaking in your boots and cowering in my shadow.”

“Oh, I am very much terrified of my fate.” Logan admitted, shifting his stance. “But at this point, it’s not worth it to dwell in my own fear. I...still have a little time. I don’t want to spend it unable to do anything.” Not to mention, focusing on fear would stop him from finding a way to escape; but he wasn’t about to let the vampire know that.

...huh. “Virgil.” Virgil introduced himself, tilting his head. This borrower was certainly...strange.

“Logan.” He introduced back, despite not being asked. “I would say it was pleasant to meet you but...I believe that kind of courtesy does not apply here.”

Virgil snorted, that dark gleam in his eye again. “You only say that because I’m only keeping you around until I can suck you dry.”

Logan felt a chill go down his spine and he shivered. “Well...yes. That’s why I implied it was not nice to meet you. I’d rather we had never met, in fact.”

“Lucky for me you didn’t get a say then.” Virgil glanced out the window, frowning at how it had begun to lighten. “Ugh, it’s nearly morning already? Great, I spent the whole night scouring the stupid forest for plants.”

“Already?” Had the night passed so quickly already?

“Yeah, that’s how time works.” Virgil grumbled, getting back into his coffin. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “Where would I go?” He asked, looking around at the cage that had him effectively trapped.

“Oh yeah.” Virgil seemed to find this amusing, a smirk on his face before he was once again encased.

Logan sighed and prepared for another long day alone with his thoughts. He wondered if tonight was the night he would be eaten…

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

Logan glanced out the window where the sun was just starting to set. He let out a tense sigh, curling in on himself as he stared down at the metal floor. He knew there was no use dwelling on the past...but he couldn’t help it. His mind kept wandering to Roman and what Virgil had told him before.

Roman was...gone. Was it his fault? Logically he knew there was nothing he could have done but some deep rooted part of him was blaming himself for all of this happening. If he had just been paying more attention or-or something then maybe he wouldn’t be here, awaiting his own death.

Maybe Roman would still be alive.

Logan didn’t want to give up but he was finding it difficult to figure out a way out. He had already scoped out the cage he was in several times and so far, nothing had presented itself as a way to escape. He truly was trapped and at Virgil’s mercy.

Well...at least he would be seeing Roman again soon.

There was a shuffling from the coffin a few minutes later, the vampire appearing once the window had gone dark.

Virgil gave a groan, stretching his arms above his head. The familiar scent of borrower wafted around his room, making Logan into almost an aromatherapy candle.

Virgil felt himself growing hungrier, but still the thought of just eating the borrower felt… anticlimactic. Yes, surely that was the reason for the tightening in his throat. It would be too easy.

“Evening.” Virgil greeted, crossing his arms in an intimidating fashion and creeping over to the cage.

Logan felt his heart rate spike up in fear. He forced his facial features to remain neutral, though. He nodded. “Evening.” His hands tightened it’s hold on the fabric of his jeans, waiting for the news that this was it. His last few moments.

“You’re fairly polite for a snack.” Virgil teased, reaching out to unlock the enclosure with agonizing slowness.

Logan’s eyes widened, forgoing the neutral expression and he jumped to his feet. “L-Like I said, I see n-no point in letting my...my fear consume me.” Although he would admit, he was having a hard time getting a handle on it right now.

“Fear consume you, huh?” Virgil grinned, showing off his fangs as he snatched up the borrower. “Unfortunate choice of words.”

Logan yelped, shaking in the vampire’s tight grip. “I-I, that was com-completely unintentional.” He stuttered. He stared into Virgil’s mouth and at his fangs for only a moment before he had to turn his head away.

Virgil gave an appreciative hum. “You know for someone who’s claiming to be unafraid, you’re shaking quite a bit.”

“Well it’s...it’s a little hard when I know-when I know what’s about to h-happen.” Logan winced. He truly wished he could stop but his body wasn’t listening.

“Oh, really?” Virgil tilted his head, pretending to be confused. “And what exactly is going to happen? Tell me.”

Logan shut his eyes tight at the demand. “You...You are going to e-eat me.” He said quietly, a few tears escaping his closed eyes.

Virgil paused, watching the borrower break down in his hand. He had hoped this would help rouse some of his predatorial instincts, but now he just felt that terrible nausea again, throwing him briefly back to horrible memories. Curse this stupid sympathetic spirit of his, it only landed him in trouble.

“...nah.” Virgil shrugged, giving a laid back appearance.

Logan blinked, a few more tears falling. He looked up at Virgil. “Wh-What?” He felt hope rise up in his chest but he pushed it down, knowing it couldn’t be that simple.

“Not tonight, that’s too easy.” Virgil decided. Maybe tomorrow he’d be hungry enough to go through with it.

“I see…” Not what he was hoping but it seemed like he at least had another night to live. Part of him was thankful though the other part was simply wishing to be done with it already. “So...why am I out then?” He asked, squirming some more in the grip.

“I got bored, and it’s fun to see you struggle.” Virgil’s expression darkened maniacally, with a flick of his wrist sending the borrower into the air.

“Ah!” Logan screamed as he was suddenly airborne. He landed with a soft thud and a groan back onto Virgil’s palm. His shaking had increased. “P-Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Virgil tossed again, catching with his non-dominant hand this time. “Need I remind you of my cat-like reflexes?”

Logan screamed again, shakily sitting up as he landed again. “A-All the same, one wrong move and I could…” He gulped, catching how far up he was from the ground.

“Fall to an early untimely death?” Virgil supplied, twisting his wrist and dangling Logan upside-down by his fingers.

“Y-Yes!” Logan answered as he felt a rush of blood go to his head. Already he was becoming dizzy. “Put me down!” He struggled for a second before realizing how bad of an idea that was and stilled.

“Oh come now, I don’t think you’d really die from this height.” Virgil slowly began to swing the borrower back and forth. “But if you’re a betting man… hey, it’s your funeral. I’m happy to indulge you to prove it. The roof, however, that would be fatal for your brittle baby bones.”

“No! I am certainly not, please, I thought you wanted me alive when you ate me!” Logan exclaimed, once again using logic the vampire would take to.

“Eh, blood is blood, even if freshly killed.” Virgil wondered if maybe that would make it easier to stomach. Maybe he should just off the borrower and be done with it. Once the borrower was dead there’d be no use in wasting it.

Logan’s eyes widened but...he knew there was nothing he could do. If Virgil wanted to kill him now then...then he would be killed. At least he wouldn’t have to be eaten alive anymore. He slumped, ceasing his struggles. “Well...I cannot stop you.” He shut his eyes tight, preparing for a fall and hoping his death was quick and painless.

#vampire perspective #vampire!virgil #borrower!logan #perspective series #part 5 #look it's getting good #and by good we mean depressing

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chickennoodlesoupfortae · 5 years

Text

Runaway

Jimin x Reader AU

Summary- Runaway *txt voice* . Jimin is a wandering time traveler meeting people from all times and breaking hearts all the same.

A/N- I’m going through a list of prompts, so here’s the first one shot just dumb fluff and a mild plot. I hope you guys like it and if not tell me. Anyways I’m back and in quarantine/shelter in place so might as well write again. I love getting request and DMs. I hope you all stay safe and healthy

Word Count- 2k+

Warnings-none (cursing?)

3/19/20

Chapter One

“Give me something different from the world.” you laid your back on the chair holding on to the table and pushing back. Three papers due the next morning and you were drained of all the energy you didn’t know you possessed. How in the world were you going to do this again and again for the next four years in college. You thought your days of studying were gonna be over after high school, but how naive you were. Movie after movie told you that college would be a fun time to drink and party but the only party you went to was for orientation. Luckily you had gotten your own dorm away from any distractions and which you thought now may be the reason for your isolation. “I wish something could happen out of the ordinary.” You were well aware that you were foreshadowing something or at least hoped you were. Manifestation was said to work and at this point your level of procrastination allowed for you to be slightly delusional.

Park Jimin was a born time traveler. He wasn’t ever in one place for more than a week in fear of disrupting his timeline. He also wasn’t quite sure when he started wandering through time. If you asked him he might look away like he often did and tell you one day when he was little he wandered and found himself far away from his home. In reality Jimin doesn’t know much of his past, he tries to forget what he does remember and move on. When he sleeps on nights when the wind is cold and the clouds cry he can almost see his mother calling out for him. He will follow her voice until he is at the edge of the woods. When he’s lucky he can touch the trees and smell the soft scent of fall in the air, just as he begins to move to her he always wakes up. That night Jimin had seen her closer than he ever had and woke up in a thick sweat. He knew he had to leave the time he was in and move on.

“Alright buddy, it's time for us to leave.” he hugged his small chick stuffed animal and put it in his pocket. The tavern was small and cramped, there were tapestries lining the wall and soft purple curtains covering the windows. The year was around fourteen hundred and he was in the royal court of one the kings of the time. It wasn't his first time posing as a noble and wouldn't be his last. He always left quietly and briskly in the night never saying goodbye. He was the lost lover of countless stories and lives but he never seemed to care. And so he opened the large door carved and shining in the dim light of the candle he held. In the hallway was the princess he had tricked into giving him a place to stay. He wasn’t heartless, and that’s why he always left in the cover of the dark.

“‪Jimin, what are you doing out this late?” Aurora was undoubtedly beautiful, he thought for sure the story “sleeping beauty” must have been inspired by her. He felt bad for once seeing how much she had grown attached to him in his short time in her court.

“I- can’t stay?” It was as if he was asking a question to her hoping it was a good enough excuse.

“Please don’t go.” Her sweet soft eyes were watering and he could almost touch her pain in the air. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry. I need to start my life over.” He wasn’t lying

“No please,” she ran over to him holding his hand in hers. “Stay here, we can make it all work.” Jimin looked down at her and felt guilty. He had led her on and given her an escape from the marriage she was bound to.

“Please I just need to get something, I’ll be back.” She knew in her heart he was lying. She wasn’t foolish, she was smart and educated. And still she followed along with his clear lie.

“I will love you till the end of time, I would wait a million years, say you’ll remember?”

With that Jimin let go of her hand and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “I will.”

He had to admit he wasn’t expecting that and he would remember that. He walked out the hallway and outside letting the rain encompass him and let his mind take him.

Three am was when you finished all the papers. You were so tired you could almost cry. It was pouring outside which meant in four hours when you had to leave for class you would need an umbrella and of course you didn’t have one of those. The skin care routine could wait tonight and you shut off all the lights and finally laid back in your bed. Just as your eyes closed you heard water fall on your floor.

“What the fuck” you whispered being angry you had a mess to clean. “Why do I always leave shit on the ledges where they can fall?” You turned on your lamp sitting up. You rubbed your eyes and turned around. First you saw shoes, old ones at that, and then you realized said shoes had legs attached to them. You closed your eyes and said a small prayer in your mind hoping they’d be gone when you opened your eyes.

And then you screamed.

Jimin planted his feet on a hardwood surface. He knew he had to be in more modern times by the cool air in the room. He let out a nice calm sigh and then he noticed the lights turn on and a girl scream. “Fuck, Fuck,” he ran over to cover your mouth “shhhhhh, calm down”

With the stranger's hand on your mouth you began to cry and bit him. “What do you want? How the fuck did you get in here? Please don’t kill me, I’m too young to die.” Jimin let out a Yelp at your attack.

“Jesus, I’m not here to kill you. And if you wouldn’t mind I’d love to leave.” He turned around and headed for the door.

“Stop,” you called out grabbing your phone. “Why are you in my room?”

“Trust me I didn’t mean to be here.” He turned around facing you. To be completely shallow for a moment you were taken aback by his looks. He looked unreal, handsome and beautiful all at once.

“Then why are you?” You stood up still holding your phone in case you needed to call for help, as beautiful as he may be it didn’t mean he wasn’t a serial killer.

“You don’t want to know.” Jimin was feeling reckless and sad. He didn’t need another connection and his judgment was clouded by his encounter.

“Tell me or else I’m just gonna call the cops.”

“You want the truth?” He asked, raising his voice slightly making you pull back a little, gripping your phone tighter.

“I want to know why the fuck there is a stranger in my dorm, so yeah I do.”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the truth.” He looked like a prince in his dated attire, you didn’t know if you were creeped out or intrigued.

“Why do you look like you stepped out of a painting” Jimin looked down at his soaked puffy sleeve.

“I guess I almost did,” he chuckled. “What would you say if I told you I’m not from here. Better what would you think if I’m not from this time or any time?” He stepped closer to you

“I would ask what you were on and if I could have some of whatever it was.” You felt safe, this made you feel delusional and stupid but there you were sitting back on your bed.

“Nothing. I’m on nothing.” It made Jimin more sad confirming that no one would believe him.

“Yeah I think this is a dream, nice and all. Must I say my mind really does create beautiful people.” You pulled the covers over your head and closed your eyes.

“What’s your name anyways?” You asked mentally check out.

“Jimin, my name's Jimin.” He walked closer to you taking in your features. You seemed so peaceful.

“I got to say this is some crackhead sleep paralysis demon, ain’t nobody doing it like me. My name is y/n Jimin you can spend the night my dear sleep paralysis demon.”

Jimin laughed and laid down on the floor still wet. He soon fell asleep to the sounds of you snoring.

You didn’t set your alarm and so you slept until nine. You woke up and rubbed your eyes sitting up and letting out a long yawn. Cracking your knuckles and moving your feet to the ground.

Jimin woke up to the ear breaking sound of your scream.

“Who the fuck are you?” You were holding your lamp as if it were a bat. “Get the fuck out.”

“Aish, Jesus it’s too early for this.” Jimin stood up grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He put his hand on the knob and turned around. “I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” And with that he walked out the door.

You put on your glasses and put down the lamp. Your mind was going a mile a minute wondering what had possessed you not to call the police. You put on a sweater and ran after the man that was just in your room.

Jimin pressed the elevator button. Admittedly it had been a long night and he had to figure out where he was and more importantly where he was gonna stay. It was ten times harder to fly under the radar in the future. There were cameras and events everywhere. He couldn’t be in two photos at once. He felt your hand on his wrist and turned around.

“Who are you.” You looked deep into his eyes looking for an answer. “Tell me why you came to me and don’t just leave.”

“I already told you.” He put his other hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not some bullshit time traveler.” You let go of his wrist breaking the moment.

“I am.” The elevator opened and he stepped in, pressing lobby. The doors began to close and just as he thought he finished with you, your hand stopped the doors. You walked in.

The doors closed and he let out a long sigh.

“So you can travel time.”

“It’s almost like I told you this.” he snapped back

“Damn, okay. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“That someone had someone's feet in their face. And someone screams at them again. So yeah someones a little pissed.”

“Say someone again.”

“Someone.”

You were so ready to get out of the swing of things that you could stupidly befriend your intruder. A pretty twisted Stockholm syndrome in the making. The doors of the elevator opened and Jimin went in front of you.

“What do you want from me?” he asked more frankly than you thought he should’ve.

“Hey, I’m the one asking questions here. I didn’t sneak into someone's house last night and then claim to be a time traveler.”

“Say someone again.”

“Someone- wait no don’t distract me.”

“I don’t want you to follow me around. God are you stupid?” he speed walked forward leaving you a couple feet behind before you.

“Whatever, lier you can be all alone in your schizophrenic delusion.”

Jimin turned around. He didn’t know what it was about your statement that triggered something in him. He had nothing to prove to you or anyone for that matter. But in that moment he needed you to know he wasn’t a liar. Maybe it was the fact that he had never told anyone before and after having it fall out yesterday the last thing he wanted was someone telling him what he was saying was fake.

“I’m not a liar.” he whispered. He walked back to where you were standing staring you down.

“Prove it crazy.”

Jimin grabbed your arm and all you saw was black. It must have been less than a second but you felt suspended in the air for an indescribable time.

“Do you believe me now?” Jimin gave you a devilish smile motioning to your surroundings.

“How in the fuck- I where- Bro- bring me back-” he covered your mouth and shuttled you into a corner.

“Shh y/n. You’re gonna ruin someone's life if you’re not careful.”

Why did he sound excited?

A/N- if you’re reading this that means you read it all. Thanks :)

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ai-suru-hito-yo · 5 years

Text

Calling You (Gardner Langway x Reader)

Summary: You and Gardner have been in a relationship for about a year now. Things are going great, the ups make the downs completely worth it, and you’re so in love with this goofball it almost hurts. Based on Calling You by Blue October.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, probably rambling, very light references to possible smut but nothing detailed or explicit, some angst but I only write happy endings.

A/N: Sorry I don’t have the next part of WFSTRM ready yet! My dumb ass almost forgot I signed up for this event so I’ve been working on pumping this baby out. It’s just a lot of projection, honestly, because I am lonely and would very much like a cute and goofy ginger of my own (ahem Joe Mazzello hmu) Not beta’d because what are this? Written for @littledarlingwellaway ‘s 1k/Birthday extravaganza! Lyrics in italics. Timeline jumps around through different events in the relationship.

There's something that I can't quite explain

I'm so in love with you

You'll never take that away

You stared at the popcorn ceiling of your bedroom in your tiny apartment. No matter how long you stared, no matter how many little bumps you counted, sleep would not come. It was quiet except for a dog barking in the distance, and the quiet, deep breathing of the man currently sprawled across your chest, auburn locks in disarray after the number of times he had nervously run his fingers through his hair.

You and Gardner had just experienced your first real fight. You had been together for about 8 months now, and those months had been filled with mostly bliss, minus a bump or two in the road as you navigated the newness of suddenly finding someone else and their needs a part of your life. You had been out at date night, and Gardner said something accidentally insensitive (And what was it anyway? You could not possibly recall anymore, it was so trivial.) You had a bad day at work and immediately took the comment to heart, resulting in a serious overreaction and argument to end the night. You had fled home, only to see Gardner running up the sidewalk about 20 minutes later, a look of utmost determination on his face.

Finally, after talking things through and lots of reassurance, he finally passed out on your bed with you, wrapped entirely around your body, as if afraid you might slip away in the night if he failed to keep you anchored.

You looked down at his face, peaceful and relaxed in his sleep, looking paler than usual and downright ethereal in the moonlight streaming through your window. His plush lips parted slightly as he exhaled, and you studied last dark eyelash as they fanned against his pale cheeks. Your fingers gently brushed through his wild hair, and he stirred slightly. You froze, afraid the touch had woken him, but all he did was rub his face against your sweater before the sound of deep breaths filled the room once again.

As you resumed your stroking of his hair, you realized that whatever it was you had argued about was unimportant. You knew you loved Gardner, there was absolutely no doubt in your mind how you felt about the goofy, soft, awkward, beautiful man with his boat and his stamp collection and his zest for life and his unrelenting passion for the people and the things he cared about. You felt your eyelids slowly droop closed as you took comfort in the weight of your boyfriend pressing into you, keeping you safe and warm and loved.

And if I've said a hundred times before

Expect a thousand more

You'll never take that away

The first time he said it was an accident. He had truly not thought about it, not taken the time to really analyze how he felt about you, caught up as he was in the exhilaration of finding you and learning about you and developing this new, wonderful thing with you.

It was the simplest thing, too, that made him say it. He had been trying to make you laugh, telling you about some of the dumb suggestions Calvin had made as far as his next employment opportunity after he had quit being a mailman. Some throw-away comment that he made just as you had reached for your drink caused you to laugh and nearly drop the glass, which just caused you to laugh even more. Your eyes lit up and you threw your head back in mirth, letting out an unrestrained laugh, loud and happy, and it just hit him.

“God, I love you.”

Your laughter died down to soft giggles, before you realized what exactly he said. Your smile was still plastered on your face, but your eyes grew wide in shock. “W-what?”

“Um, I said I- yeah, yeah, I love you. I really do.”

You stared at him for a moment, silently, and Gardner could feel his heart rate pick up, his palms going sweaty from nerves. Had he said the wrong thing? Was it too soon? Should he not have said it? He was absolutely certain it was the truth, but now he was terrified he would scare you away.

“I-I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry for how I feel, I won't apologize for that. But I'm sorry if you didn't want to hear that. I'm sorry If that was too soon. I'm really sorr--”

You never found out what else he was sorry for as you grabbed his shirt front and pulled him to you, right there in the middle of the bar, and planted your lips against his, effectively shutting him up for the next few minutes. When you finally pulled away again, you made sure to whisper for Gardner only,

“I love you, too, idiot.”

So expect me to be

Calling you to see

If you're okay when I'm not around

Asking if you love me

I love the way you make it sound

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since your boyfriend had been dragged off by his “brother” on some boys' trip as he had called it, leaving you behind and without his presence for 21 long days. They were due back at the end of the week, seven days that seemed to stretch out like a year before you.

You dragged yourself back home after another long day at work, wanting nothing more than the pint of Rocky Road in your freezer and a nice, long sleep. After a scalding hot shower, you put on your favorite pajamas (fuzzy warm pants and one of Gardner's old, faded t-shirts) and promptly fell asleep before you were even able to so much as braid your hair back for the night.

What must have been several hours later, judging by the darkness outside, you were pulled slowly from a rather deep sleep by an annoying and insistent sound. You reached toward your alarm clock, only to realize that the source of the noise was actually your phone, which you hd left on your bed during your shower and was now lodged somewhere under you. You lifted your leg and dug around, retrieved it from under your thigh, and promptly smashed the volume button before throwing it back down by your pillow. You were just about asleep again when the stupid thing started vibrating, alerting you to another call. This time you decided to answer it, letting out little more than a tired grunt.

“'Lo?”

There was a moment of silence, and then an robotic voice greeted you. “Hello. You have a collect call from,” pause, then a familiar voice, “It's me!!” you sat bolt upright, nearly dropping the phone. “Do you accept the charges?”

“Yes!” you practically scream into the phone. “Yes I accept!”

There was a bit of noise down the line, then quiet for a moment, before you tentatively spoke up again, “Uh...Gardner?”

“Honey I am so sorry it's collect I SWEAR I will pay you back!” Gardner's tired and slightly panicked voice called out to you. “I promise, the moment I get ho-”

“I don't give a shit about that,” you interrupted him, feeling an ache in your chest ease at the sound of his voice. You had been a little worried all day as you had not heard form him or Calvin for nearly three whole days now. Usually Gardner was calling you every night, excitedly telling you where they were now, what they had seen that day, and reassuring you that he loved you and he would be home soon. “Why are you calling collect? Where's your phone? Better yet, where have you been for three days, I've been so worried!”

“I know, I'm sorry,” your boyfriend assured you softly. Then his voice jumped an octave like it always did when he was irritated. “It's not because I didn't want to call, believe me. Let's just say Calvin had a little...mishap...which resulted in all but one of our bags falling into the Mississippi. My phone, my wallet, my camera, all of my clothes, as well as Calvin's phone, wallet, and clothes all in the bottom of a fucking river. Thankfully Calvin had his passport stashed in his car for some reason. We've spent most of today running around trying to get bank cards replaced so we can get back home.”

You sat in silence, stunned by everything your boyfriend had just told you. You could not decide whether to laugh or cry or scream or ask him if he was lying and playing a prank on you. Instead, you just sighed and asked him, “So, you're coming home, then?”

You could almost feel Gardner's sigh through the phone. “Yes. I'm calling it, we're cutting this road trip short and coming home.”

A squeak left your lips as you tried not to scream and cry. He was coming home early! Gardner was coming home, you would hopefully see him as early as tomorrow afternoon, and it was the best news you had heard in a very long time.

“Baby, I am so sorry your trip has ended on a sour note, I really am. I know you guys were really looking forward to boys time, and you deserve it. But I am so excited to see you,” by the time you reached the end of your statement, you were practically whispering, feeling choked up and near tears. You were acting ridiculous, you knew it, but it had really been tough not to have your goofy boyfriend around, your rock and your source of comfort, the one person you had grown so used to being the one constant in you otherwise hectic life, and it was really affecting your mood and your attitude badly.

A soft huff of laughter sounded over the phone, and Gardner asked, “You really miss me that much?” When you failed to answer right away, his tone turned softer and more serious. “Hey, are you okay?”

You sniffed and promptly pulled yourself together. “Yeah, I just miss you, Gardner. I miss you a lot. When will you be back? Where are you even?”

“I miss you, too, (Y/N). We're in some podunk town in southern Missouri right now. It's about a 9 hour drive home, and we're going straight through, no stops-no stops, Calvin!- except bathroom breaks. So sometime tomorrow afternoon.” The smile that split your face was one to rival the Cheshire cat, and you felt yourself relaxing just a little more as you were reassured that you and Gardner would soon be reunited. Thankfully, you had the whole next day off to plan a little something for just the two of you to enjoy after being apart, a little welcome home party.

“Okay,” you said quietly, phone pressed hard to your ear, as if that would suddenly make the physical distance between you smaller. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

You let out a yawn and heard Gardner laughing down the line. “I'll let you go, honey. I just really needed to hear your voice and to tell you that I'm coming home.”

“I'm glad you did,” you told him honestly. “I had a really shit day, but it's all better now that I know I'll get to see you soon.”

“You still love me?” Gardner asked, and you chuckled.

“Of course I do, silly,” you assured him. “To the moon and back.”

“I know,” your boyfriend told you. “I just love hearing you say it. And I love you, too. More than anything.”

You rang off with promises that you would be home all day and that he could come over as soon as he was back in town. Feeling much warmer and more relaxed, you held the shirt up close to your nose, breathing in the lingering scent of Gardner's soap and distinct smells, and fell asleep with plans for the following evening swirling in your mind.

I thought that the world had lost its sway

Then I fell in love with you

And you took that away

You take away the old

Show me the new

You and Gardner had met shortly after he had gone through a really rough patch in his life. You did not know many details, but from what you gathered after a slightly tipsy conversation with Calvin, Gardner had just lost his job and experienced his first real heartbreak before you came into his life. Well, fell in (quite literally).

You had been in a hurry, rushing to find lunch on your short break from work, and all but ran into a cafe down the street. Unfortunately, someone had been about to step out when you reached to push the door open, and you promptly tripped over them and fell at their feet.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” a voice called out to you, and a hand circled your arm and helped pull you back to your feet. You brushed off your dress before you caught sight of a pair of feet still in front of you. Your eyes slowly made their way up a pair of legs, up, up, up, until you were looking into a pair of kind and rather stunning hazel eyes. The man before you looked to be about your age, with a strong nose and sharp jawline, skin so pale it was almost translucent, a bright shock of messy, red hair, and a slight smile. Despite the purple shadows under the man's eyes and the general tired look to him, the man was a cutie, and you could feel your face start to heat up as you realized you had been staring for far too long now.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, snapping out of your thoughts. “It's um, no problem. My fault, actually. Should have been paying more attention. Um, I'm (Y/N), by the way. Not that you should care, I'm just some strange girl from off the street.” You were rambling now and you knew it, but you could not seem to make yourself stop. Cutie seemed to be having a strange affect on you and you lost your mental filter entirely.

“I'll...just go now,” you said, promptly turning back to the cafe door, intending to scurry off back to work, appetite gone.

“I don't think you're strange,” Cutie suddenly spoke up.

“What?” you had stopped in your tracks, quickly turning back to him.

“I don't think you're strange,” he said again. “Although, it might seem a little strange for you to walk out of here, empty handed, after having just walked in.”

“Oh. Well I-uh,” you stammered, looking for some excuse, a reason to make a quick getaway. Oh, why doesn't a sinkhole just open up and swallow me whole, you thought as you realized you were caught out.

“Come on, I'm buying you a smoothie,” the stranger said, turning toward the counter before stopping and turning toward you again. “I'm Gardner, by the way.”

Calvin told you he came home that night, smiling for the first time in weeks, and had not stopped since.

“He wouldn't shut up about you, actually,” he said, leaning quite close before pushing himself off of your shoulder back to an upright position. “It was '(Y/N) this' and '(Y/N) that' for three whole days before I asked him if he even got your phone number or anything.”

You glanced at Gardner, who was pink faced and avoiding eye contact with you at the moment, remembering how you had seen him again in the same cafe five days later, and seemed strangely relieved when you pulled a pen from your purse and wrote your number on the back of his hand, telling him he could use it sometime if he wants. It had been a further week after that before he called you, and now you understood why. He had his heart broken, and was probably not entirely keen on repeating the experience.

You stood on slightly wobbly legs and made your way around the table to your boyfriend, wrapped your arms around his neck and perched yourself on his lap. He finally looked up at you, though still a bit reluctant, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

He smiled up at you, and you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the curve of his lips for good measure.

“What's that for?” he asked, looking up at you with a slight furrow to his brow. You smoothed it with a light touch before answering him.

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to make sure you know that I love you and I'm not going anywhere any time soon.”

It was quiet for a moment as Calvin had run off to who knows where in the house, following whatever crazy idea his alcohol-drenched brain had come up with. You felt more than heard Gardner take a deep breath before he spoke.

“You know you don't have to worry about me, right?” he asked, head tilted back to look up into your eyes now that his brother was no longer present to spill all his secrets.

“What d'you mean?”

“I mean, that stuff is all in the past. Yeah, I was in a funk when I met you, but as soon as you showed up, it was like it all happened to another person. It wasn't me anymore. You replaced all the bad things that I held onto with the good things I hadn't realized I actually needed. The world became easier to navigate. Nothing seemed to bad or so difficult anymore.”

Gardner ended his little declaration with a shrug, as if he had not just finished saying the most beautiful and profound thing someone had ever said to you in your life.

Instead of answering him, you simply stood and pulled him up to his feet. You wrapped your arms back around his neck, pulling him close and pressing your lips to his again. You felt his arms snake around your waist, locking behind your back and pulling you close. After some time that could have been minutes or hours for all the attention you had paid to the outside world at that moment, you pulled away from him, trailing one hand down his arm and interlacing your fingers with his long ones.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him toward the door.

“Where are we going?” he asked with a puzzled look.

You threw a coy smile over your shoulder before giving his hand another tug. “To the boat.”

Calling you to see

Do I try too hard to make you smile

To make a smile

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming.

A ring your great-grandmother had given you had gone missing off your dresser. You thought you had placed it down next to your favorite apple cider candle, only for it to disappear, causing you to spend three days searching for it. You searched all the usual places, then all the unusual places, even your desk drawers at work, thinking perhaps you had misplaced it, but it was nowhere to be found. You gave up, officially declaring the jewelry lost, and spent the evening at home alone, trying to figure out how you were going to tell your mother that you lost her grandmother's ring.

You decided to drop by Gardner's boat one afternoon after work, only to walk in to him immediately slamming his laptop shut and staring at you with a wide-eyed, guilty look on his face. When you asked what he was doing, he claimed he was looking for something for Calvin.

“He's always trying new recipes, you know, so I thought I'd look some up for him,” he said, slipping the computer onto a shelf and gesturing for you to come sit by him. You were sure this was a lie, as Googling recipes certainly did not warrant such suspicious behavior, but decided to let it slide, as you had no real reason not to believe him.

However, the strange behavior got worse. One afternoon about two weeks later, you and Gardner both had some time off and were spending it together, when he got a phone call and slipped into another room to answer it. This was odd, as he usually only received calls form you, Calvin, or his boss. It certainly was not you on the other line, and he had never felt the need to leave the room for a call from work or his brother before. You knew it was wrong, but you decided to follow him.

He had stepped outside your apartment and into the hallway, so you stood by your door with your ear pressed against it, trying to catch anything you could. He must have been pacing, because you could only catch a few words at a time as the grew louder and then softer again.

“...sure that's right? How much...? ...meet you there at 4 tomorrow...look forward to it...”

You heard him approach your front door and quickly ran into your bathroom and locked the door behind you. You barely registered the front door opening and closing as your breathing picked up and you began to think of all the worst possibilities for his behavior. You did not register Gardner calling out your name before knocking at the bathroom door. The sound pulled you rather suddenly from your panicked thoughts, and you had to quickly sit down on the toilet lid before you fell over.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” he called through the door, concern evident in his voice. You knew you had to think fast.

“I-I don't feel good,” you called out, which was actually not a lie. You did find yourself suddenly feeling rather ill. “Maybe you should just go home.”

“What?! Are you sick? Unlock the door, let me come in and check on you.”

“No! I um-don't want you to get sick, too. It might be contagious.”

“I don't care. I've been around you all day, if it's contagious I'm gonna get it anyway.”

“Please just go, Gardner,” you called out. “I'm gonna try taking a shower and going to bed early. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he finally relented, sounded disappointed and defeated. “I hope you feel better soon, honey. I love you.”

“Okay, thanks, you too,” you answered, turning on the shower to hopefully drown out any further disappointed sounds or words. Sleep never came to you that night, and you spent the whole next day wound tighter than a drum and jumping at every noise and movement.

At your lunch break you ducked into the ladies' room, hoping to freshen up a bit and try to get your act together for the afternoon. You stood staring at the dark shadows under your eyes that no amount of concealer would cover up, lost in thought, when your phone suddenly started ringing in your purse, causing you to jerk back violently before stomping your foot in pure frustration. You wrenched it out of your bag and answered it without even looking at who was calling.

“Hello?” you practically shouted into the phone?

“Hi, honey,” Gardner's happy voice answered you. “How you feeling today?”

“Fine,” you lied, your grip tightening around your phone.

“Oh, um, well I'm glad to hear that,” the man answered slowly, clearly a little puzzled by your grumpiness. “Think you'd be up for dinner out tonight? My treat.”

“I don't know, Gardner, I didn't sleep the greatest last night and my appetite hasn't been the greatest today,” you answered honestly. You had softened a little, as this was still the man you loved, and thought that maybe you were reacting a little strongly based only on your paranoid suspicions.

“Okay, we'll stay in, then,” he said, clearly not to be deterred from his plan to see you. “Come by the boat. It's supposed to be a beautiful night. I just really want to see you.”

You felt the last of your resolve crumble and you caved, agreeing you would come over. He agreed that if you started to feel ill again, he would bully Calvin into driving you home.

That evening you decided to walk the half a mile or so from your apartment to Calvin's house where Gardner still had his boat parked, taking time to reflect on all that had happened recently. You were not sure what to expect upon arrival, but it certainly was not what you saw.

Gardner had taken the cover off his boat, exposing the deck fully. He had gathered every blanket he owned, as well as a few you were certain you had seen in Calvin's house, as well as every cushion and pillow it seemed he could get his hands on, and piled them on the deck like some sort of hybrid nest-pillow fort. There was a bottle of sparkling cider set beside two trays loaded with food, and fairly lights were strung around the rigging, creating a soft glow around the nest. You had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just staring at everything, which was where Gardner found you when he emerged from below deck with two glasses in his hands.

“(Y/N)!” he waved at you when he spotted you. “Come on up!” You climbed the ladder to the deck and Gardner reached out to help you on board, hands warm and clammy in they way they were whenever he was nervous.

“Do you like it?” he asked you with a small smile.

“I love it,” you answered honestly. “Did you do all of this?”

“Yep! Well, Calvin helped with the food and dragging all the cushions outside, but it was all my idea. I bought the juice and strung the lights and everything,” Gardner's hands started waving around excitedly as he explained, and you took hold of one again to calm him.

“You did this just for me,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“Well, you seemed so stressed lately I thought it might be nice for you to have a quiet, cozy way to unwind,” he explained, steering you toward a particularly plush looking pile of cushions. You arranged yourself on it in a way that hopefully looked less awkward than it felt, and Gardner promptly wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, enveloping you in warmth and his familiar scent.

You hugged the blanket around yourself, feeling infinitely better, and wondering how you could ever have doubted this wonderful man. He reached out to you with a glass of juice, and soon you both were digging into the food he had prepared. Sandwiches, fruits, and even chocolate and caramel sauces for dipping. It was delicious, and you realized just how hungry you were after barely eating for the past 24 hours. You talked and laughed over your dinner, the conversation slowly dwindling into companionable silence. You were licking a bit of stray chocolate sauce off your finger when Gardner caught your attention again.

“(Y/N)?”

“Gardner?”

“There's...another reason I wanted you to come over tonight. Another reason why I prepared all of this,” he started and turned to face you more directly. “I know I have my faults and my quirks, and sometimes it may seem like I try too hard, yet other times, not hard enough. But I love you more than life itself. What you and me have is so much...different when compared to anything I've ever known. I've not had anybody really be there for me, there because they actually wanted to be and not because they felt obligated or for some ulterior motive. When I look at you, I feel whole, I feel new, I feel invincible. Like I could fly. I could take on the world with you by my side. And that's what I really want. I'm not sure about the rest of the factors in my life, but I know that whatever happens, I want it to happen with you there, too.”

Time seemed to stand still as Gardner shifted so he was on one knee while reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small blue box. You gasped, eyes comically wide as you stared at the box. It all made sense now. The missing ring, the sneaky internet research, the private phone calls. He had been in touch with a jeweler. He needed to know your ring size. Of course. The clues were all there, your mind had just come to the wrong conclusion.

Tears blurred your vision as Gardner opened the box, revealing the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. A princess cut stone of pure (y/b/s) sat in the middle of a sparkling white gold band, two much smaller white diamonds framing it, giving off the most brilliant shine even in the low light surrounding you. It was truly gorgeous, more so than any piece of jewelry or clothing or anything you had ever owned. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you looked back up into his hopeful face, flashing a watery smile.

“Ask me,” you said, wanting to hear his sweet voice speak those words. “Ask me, Gardner.”

“(Y/N), will you marry me?” he asked, brilliant hazel eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

“Yes,” you said, nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes, of course I will!”

You threw your arms around him, tackling him back into the pile of blankets and cushions behind him, peppering his entire face with kisses, leaving no exposed skin untouched. He laughed as you even kissed his ears, only stopping when Calvin's voice rang out from the house.

“Well?! What did she say?!”

“Oh, the ring!” you said, suddenly remembering it. “Where's the ring?”

Gardner picked the box up from where he had dropped it on a pillow and quickly slipped it onto your left hand. You stood and flashed your hand toward the house, making sure it caught the glow of one of the lights strung around you.

“What the heck do you think I said, Calvin?!” you shot back at him.

“Smart girl!” he called back to you. “You two have fun, now, and don't rock the boat! Or maybe do!”

You laughed as Calvin closed the window he was leaning out of. His words made you realize something and you quickly turned to Gardner, leveling him with your best serious face.

“I have one condition,” you stated firmly. The smile on Gardner's face slipped a little. “You can keep the boat, but I am NOT living in it!”

He laughed in relief, reaching out to pull you down to him again.

“Deal.”

#gardner langway #gardner langway x reader #gardner x reader #dear sidewalk #dear sidewalk fic #songfic #ldwa1kextravaganza

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