#five minutes later hear my dad in the living room clattering around and walk in to him holding the tv up and it’s FALLING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anagentinwriting · 4 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 9

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 5800+

Warnings: Arson, major angst, fluff, drugs, Domestic violence, relationship abuse, mental/physical abuse (Please be cautious reading this part if you have any of these triggers. This chapter may be dark, distributing, uncomfortable, and/or upsetting to some.)

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

AN: Flashbacks in Italics

Someone knocking on the door makes you jump and stare wide-eyed at it. You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes, and slowly stood up. The knocking continued to get louder, sending a dull ringing in your ears. You went to the hall closet to grab the wooden baseball bat and went over to answer the door. This is when you wish the door had a peephole or that there were windows by the door, so you could see who it was, but there was nothing to see who was on the other side. You let out a deep breath, opening the door, and swung the bat, but find Steve ducking out of the way before it hit him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You dropped the bat as it clattered to the ground and covered your mouth. “Steve...I thought...I thought you were…” Your voice stumbled as you felt more tears run down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I could’ve really hurt you. I don’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.” Steve reassured, placing his hands on your upper arms. You tensed up, taking in a sharp breath, and he dropped his hands back to his sides. “Are you okay, YN?” You stared at him as if you didn’t know what to say. Your mouth was opening and closing, but the words weren’t coming to you. “Let’s get inside.” You nodded, turning back around. You walked in and watched him close the door behind him and place the bat from the ground beside it.

“I thought...I thought you were him. He called me, and I thought he was at the door because he found me. And then he wasn’t, and I...I don’t know...” You went over to the couch to sit down, putting your head in your hands as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

“Do you want me to call Thor?”

“No,” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes. “He’ll just make it another reason why I shouldn’t have my own place.” You glanced over at Steve, and he was shifting back and forth on his feet with his hands in his pockets like he was unsure about what to do next.

The room remained silent, the only noise being your sniffles and shaky breathing. “Who did you think was at the door?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you thought I was him at the door.” Steve's eyes traveled to the front door and then back to you. “Are you in some kind of danger?”

You bit your lip, hearing his threat ringing in your ears, staring hard at the floor. “It’s a long story.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he stated, making you look up at him.

You nodded, sliding over on the couch so he could sit beside you. You let out a shaky breath, not sure where to start this story. “Sorry, do…did you want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks though.” He shot you a warm smile, sitting down next to you but still keeping some distance between you.

You cleared your throat, biting your lip. “Where to start...I was in my junior year of nursing school when I met him at a bar called The 9….

“Hottie, five o’clock,” Wanda whispered in your ear. You glanced over your shoulder to your five o’clock, and Wanda was right; he was handsome. His hair was cut short on the sides, but the top was the perfect length to run your fingers through, and he had just the right amount of stubble.

“Hey, guess who walked through the door,” Sharon teased, tilting her head to the door. You looked over to find Vis. “Wanda, your man crush is here. Go talk to him.”

“Not unless YN goes and talks to the five o’clock hottie, which we all know will never happen.” Wanda shrugged, and Sharon shot you a knowing look.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You downed the rest of your drink and slammed it on the table. “Watch and learn, ladies.” You turned around and started walking over to him with a smirk on your face, but at the last minute, you turned left and headed to the restroom. You never could flirt on a full bladder. When you walked back out, you could see Sharon shaking her head at you, and you gestured for her to calm down with her hands. You looked at your now ten o’clock to see him still sitting there with a drink in his hand and scrolling through his phone. You let out a deep breath and went over to him.

“Hi, I was asked to come over here and talk to the 5 o’clock hottie in the hopes that one of my friends will finally get the courage to talk to the guy she has been crushing on for the last year.”

“Really? Do you think it will work?” He asked with a contagious smile on his face.

You glanced over to see Sharon pushing Wanda over to talk to Vis until she finally gave in. Vis smiled once he noticed her and motioned for her to take the seat across from him.“Yeah, it seems to be working. She’s in the red leather jacket talking to the blonde with the glasses.”

“Oh, yeah, I see them,” he chuckled, pointing at them. “Billy Russo, studying criminology at John Jay College, but you know me as the 5 o’clock hottie.” He stood up and held out his hand.

“YN Odinson, nursing student at NYU.” You shook his hand with a huge smile on your face. “It’s nice to meet you, Billy.”

“After I got to know him and meet some of his friends. I found out his friends called him Billy the Beaut.” You shake your head at the nickname, glancing in Steve’s direction. “At the start, he was the perfect gentleman. He was smart, kind, and loving for someone who was an orphan.”

“He was an orphan?”

“His mom was a meth addict, and his dad left when he was young. He ended up jumping from foster home to foster home until he was old enough to decide what he wanted to do with his life,” you sighed, wringing your hands together. “I looked up to him while I was in nursing school; I knew if he believed in me, I could do anything. My family loved him when I first bought him home. Thor was happy to have someone he could rough house with and talk sports. And my mom and dad were happy I found someone that made me happy. But, Loki, right away--” you let out a deep breath, shaking your head “--didn’t like him. It was kind of weird to see because everyone who met Billy liked him. He had this charming charisma and the good looks that made it easy for people to like him. I think it really bothered Billy that Loki never liked him, but it’s not like he was the first person.”

“Maybe Loki picked up on something no one else did.”

“It’s possible--” you shrugged “--but after graduation, my friends and I decided to go out and celebrate….

“How do you think you did on Dr. Coulson’s final?” Wanda asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“I thought it was pretty easy, but I studied my ass off for his final. It even frustrated Billy because I wasn’t giving him any attention his past week,” you joked.

Wanda let out a worried chuckle. “How have you two been doing? I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever.”

“I know, Billy keeps me busy. When I’m not with Billy, I’m either working or doing homework. This semester has been crazy.”

“I agree with that.”

“Ladies, are we done talking about school? We have taken finals and are pending graduation; it’s time to drink and forget everything we learned,” Sharon shouted, following it with a woooo.

“Yeah, no, I am not a woo girl, and don’t make me one,” you joked with a smile on your face.

“Let’s take a group selfie together.” You all smiled for the first one but then took a serious one and then a fun one. You sent the fun one to Billy, and he replied with, be safe.

“Excuse me, ladies, but these drinks are from the gentleman at the far table over there.”

“Aww, that is so nice of them, but I have a boyfriend,” Wanda stated matter of fact.

“Thanks to me,” you added, forcing her to roll her eyes. “I would’ve rather got some food.”

“Stop complaining and enjoy the free drinks,” Sharon smiled, waving at the guys who sent them over.

Many drinks later and pictures taken, you were on the dance floor with the one they called Killmonger. He knew how to move, and you were struggling to keep up with him; Odinsons weren’t built to dance like this. He smiled, making you stop, and told you to follow his movements. It took you a while to get the moves down, but once you did, it turned out to be a lot fun.

Someone from behind you grabbed your hand and turned you around. You smiled once you saw it was Billy, and you put your arms around him. “Killmonger, this is my boyfriend, Billy. I told you about him.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Billy.” He held out his hand to him.

“Yeah, pleasure,” he shook his hand, glaring at him. ”YN, I’m going to take you home, so go get your things.”

“Okay.” You walked back to the table to say goodbye to Wanda and Sharon and grab your purse and jacket. “Hey, I’m heading out, it looks like Billy surprised me and wants to take me home.” You smiled at them, but their eyes remained focused on the dance floor. You turned around to see what they were looking at, Killmonger and Billy were in each other's faces. You ran back out to the dance floor and got in the middle of them. “NO, BILLY STOP. He didn’t do anything; we were just dancing.”

“He should keep his hands to himself and not try to get with another man’s girlfriend.”

“Dude, I wasn’t. Like she said, we were just dancing.”

“Billy, forget about it. Let’s turn around and get out of here.” You pushed his chest, and he backed away with his hands up. You saw something unsettling dark in his brown eyes, and it made you nervous.

“Okay, fine.” He turned around and grabbed your hand, squeezing it hard. You looked back at Killmonger and mouth sorry, and he held up his hands like it was all good.

When you got out of his car, he pushed you against the side of it, grabbing both of your wrists. “Tell me you won’t do that again.”

“Do what? Dance?” You asked, and he squeezed his hands around your wrists, making you wince. “Billy, stop, you’re hurting me.”

“Well, watching you dance with another guy hurt me, so don’t you think you should know what that feels like.” He squeezed harder, and you tried to break his grip, but he continued to squeeze.

“Billy, stop.” Your eyes started to fill with tears.

“Not until you apologize for hurting me.” You didn’t think he could squeeze any harder but he did.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you cried, and he let go. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you as you cried into his shirt, and held you close.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“On the drive back, he told me how he hated my friends and how they were a bad influence on me. I told him we were celebrating and having fun, and he needed to get over it. Then, he punched me, but like before, he apologized right away and comforted me.

A few months later, he proposed, and I said yes. Everyone was happy for me, but Loki. He was the only one who told me I was making a horrible mistake. I should’ve listened to him because it only got worse.” You paused, shaking your head at the terrible memories. “After we got engaged, I started to notice how he would make offhand remarks about how I dressed and about my friends. It wasn’t so much physical as it was mental, but after a while, it changed...

You were at the kitchen sink, washing dishes from the other night when Billy came home with a big smile on his face.

“Hey hon, guess what happened at work?”

“You got the promotion?”

“I got the promotion,” he smiled, coming over and wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your neck.

“Congratulations,” you smiled, turning around in his arms and kissing him on the lips.

“I think we should celebrate with the wine and the glasses your parents got us for our engagement.”

“I thought we were going to wait until our wedding day.”

“Why wait, when this is huge news.”

“Okay,” you agreed, forcing a small smile as you patted his chest, and he leaned down to kiss you again.

He reached into the top cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses with the date of our soon-to-be wedding on them and a bottle of wine. He grabbed the corkscrew opener out of the drawer, slammed it shut, making you jump, and he popped the cork out. He poured two even glasses of wine and handed you one.

“To the better days ahead of us,” he toasted with a smile, and you hit your glass with his. When the wine hit your lips it tasted divine, and you wish you would’ve waited until the wedding, but you understood how hard he worked to get this promotion, and he deserved this. “Let’s forget the dishes and go out onto the patio and finish off this bottle of wine; what do you say?”

“No excuse, coming from me,” you smiled, following him out with the glass in your hand.

“Wait,” he came to an abrupt stop, and you ran into his back, forcing the glass to slip through your fingers and smash onto the floor into tiny little pieces. Your hand quickly covered your mouth when he turned around.

“Hon, this is why we can’t have nice things. I try to be spontaneous and romantic, and you ruin it with your clumsiness. Do you want us to have a broken marriage because right now, that’s what it looks like you want.”

“No, I don’t; I’m sorry,” you whimpered, backing away from him. “It’s just you...you stopped really quick, and I bumped into you, and it fell out of my hands.”

“Oh, so this is my fault.” His eyes darkened, standing over you, and you gulped. He set the bottle of wine and his glass on the table beside you.

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“It’s like you never learn,” he sighed with his hands on his hips. “How many times are we going to have to go through this until you finally get it?” He shook his head, slapping you across the face.

“After he hit me, I left him and went to Loki. I told him what’s been happening, and he wanted me to end the engagement. I never did because Billy did what he always did after he hit me, he showed up being all caring and apologetic, and I would fall for it and go back to him. This happened a few times throughout our engagement, and then I made my second mistake; I married him.” You reached for your wine glass on the coffee table and took a long tentative sip. “Are you sure you don’t need anything to drink?”

“No, I’m okay.” Steve nodded, keeping a close eye on you.

You finished off the glass and resituated yourself on the couch. You bit your lip, feeling Steve’s eyes on you. When you peeked up at him, he looked worried, almost scared for you. You returned your eyes back to the couch cushion. “I think I only married him because he made my family happy...while besides Loki. Everyone got along with him so well, and I don’t think I wanted to take that away from them.” You shrugged, rubbing your forehead. “Loki was disappointed in me and told me he wouldn’t help me anymore if Billy hurt me again. Billy did, but then I went to Thor…

“Thor, why don’t you believe me? Billy hit me. How else would I have gotten a busted lip and bruises on my arm?”

“I don’t know, YN, you have gotten clumsy over the years, so maybe you fell and hit your head and don’t remember.”

“Then where is the bump on my head.”

“Look, it was probably an accident; he cares about you way too much to hit you on purpose.”

“Really? I can’t...I can’t believe you,” you shake your head, feeling tears build up in your eyes.

“I am going to call Billy and tell him to come get you, you can talk it out here, but then you both have to go. I have company coming over,” he chuckled with a child-like smile.

You sat there listening to Thor talk to Billy on the phone. Why didn’t he believe you? Oh, because Thor is a selfish, stubborn prick that chose to believe your husband over his own sister. Why you chose to run to him instead of Loki was a mistake you would never make again.

“YN,” Billy said in a calm voice. “What’s wrong? What happened to your lip?” You stared at the floor, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to be near him, not wanting to have anything to do with him. He came closer to you and put his hand on your back, making you flinch away from him. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Billy nod over his shoulder. “YN, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I took work out on you. I’m trying to change. I’ll go talk to someone. I’ll try to be a better man for you, and I promise I am going to make it up to you. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I will think of something great, and you’ll love it. We’ll go away for the weekend, go hiking, see a movie, whatever you want. Please, forgive me for being an asshole. You’re the only one who understands the real me, and I promise, I won’t make you feel this way again.”

You stared into his brown eyes and saw how much pain he was in. It hurt you to know he was feeling this way, and you wanted to make him feel better. You reached over to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your touch. Your lip twitched up into a small smile, and he leaned over, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing you again.

“Me too,” you smiled, leaning into this touch to hug him. “I forgive you, and I’m sorry, too.”

“And just like that, I forgave him. Why did I always forgive him? I don’t know. He always had these puppy dog eyes he would pull and make me feel sorry for him. But, every time he hit me, I would forgive him and apologize for making him feel that way. It was like a trigger in my head forcing me to tell him I’m sorry when I did nothing wrong.” You shrugged, running your hand through your hair.

“What happened after?” Steve leaned forward, trying to catch your eye to get you out of your head.

“Thor moved here and decided to become a firefighter. I thought he was joking, but surprise, he wasn’t.” You wring your hands together, chewing on your bottom lip. “Looking back, I remember seeing these women come into the hospital regularly saying they fell down the stairs, dropped something on their face, making excuses for someone that was hurting them. I didn’t understand why they didn’t just leave; I mean, it’s not that hard. Why would you want to stay with someone who continues to hurt you? But, here I was living the same way they were, making up excuses for him and believing that one day he would change.”

“Did your parents ever suspect something was going on?”

You nodded. “My mother, Frigga, sensed something was happening, and Loki may have even told her about it. She did ask me about it once before she died...

“YN, darling, how are you and Billy doing?”

“We’re happy,” you replied, forcing a tight smile.

“That’s a lying smile if I’d ever seen one,” she smiled, putting her hand under your chin so you would look up at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, we’re fine,” you stated with a scratchy voice.

She placed her hand over yours, and your eyes flashed to her. “Sweetheart, me and your father, want you to be happy, and if that’s not with Billy, then it’s okay. The only reason we took to him so fast was because we have never seen you so happy, but it feels like something has changed between you two.”

“It’s nothing. Billy still makes me happy, but sometimes he gets angry, and I can’t bring him back.”

“I know, sweetie, but I want you to know you’re always welcome home at any time.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “If it’s to get away for a while or take some time for yourself. ”

“I know, mom. Thank you.”

“Looking back now, I realized she wanted me out of the relationship as much as Loki did.” You shake your head. “Loki told me after she passed away that she knew what was going on. She wanted to help me, but all I did was push her away, and I did the same thing to my dad before he passed away. I think the only reason I didn’t ask for help was because I was scared of what Billy would do to those who wanted to protect me.”

“What made you finally want to leave him?”

“I don’t know because it wasn’t one fight that triggered it, but we did fight the night before I left, but that’s beside the point. It was just exhausting being his wife and trying to be the perfect couple. Every event I went with him to, I had to smile for every picture, stand by his side, and be a proud wife for all he accomplished. If I wasn’t perfect while you can just imagine what he would do,” you gulped, noticing Steve clench his jaw.

“And I was tired of fighting and walking on eggshells around him. Trying not to say or do the wrong thing that would set him off. He started to get more controlling, and he always wanted to know where I was when I wasn’t home or at work. He never let me go out with my friends, which forced me to lose a few friendships I cherished.” You shake your head as you let out a sigh.

“I didn’t drop everything and leave on a whim; I made a plan. It took me four months, but it worked. I saved up enough cash, told my boss why I had to quit, and she was happy for me; I got this anti-tracker app for my phone, told Loki the plan, took one of his cars here, and showed up on Thor’s front step. He finally believed me, and I think the bruised ribs and black eye helped bring him to that conclusion...

You rang the doorbell, not knowing if Thor was home or at work at one of the many fire stations in this city. You fiddled with the loose strand of fabric on your sweatshirt as you waited. No one was home, but you didn’t have anywhere else to go, so you sat on the steps with your luggage beside you and waited. You needed to get out of your head, but you couldn’t. All that came to your mind was the fear of what will happen when he finds you. What is he gonna do to you? Your eyes remained focused on the uncut grass in front of you as you pulled your cap closer to your eyes. Every car that drove past made your heart speed up, thinking it was him. Your eye throbbed like it had its own heartbeat, and every deep breath you took felt like a stabbing pain.

“YN, what are you doing here?” Thor asked, making you jump and place your hand over your heart. Your eyes connected with his, and his expression went from joy to concern. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You shook your head when the tears you were holding in started to fall. You wiped the tears away with your sleeve and looked at him. “I couldn’t do it anymore,” you sniffled.

“YN, who did this to you?” Thor sat down next to you and placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, causing you to tense up before you relaxed.

“Are you gonna believe me this time?”

He removed his hand from you and let out a deep breath. “Billy. He did this to you?” He asked more so than making a statement.

“Not the first time either,” your voice cracked, feeling a lump in your throat.

“I’m the worst brother ever,” he sighed beside you. “I don’t…I’m sorry for not believing you. I was an arrogant, selfish moron.” He slid closer to you and took a deep breath. “I thought...I thought you were happy and I didn’t have to worry about you. I trusted him to take care of you, not fucking hurt you.”

“Me too,” you cried, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Does Loki know?”

“Loki’s known the longest.”

He nodded. “I’ll call Loki to tell him you made it here.”

“Thank you.” You leaned over and hugged him.

“You’re welcome.” He rubbed your back. “And I promise you, Billy won’t get anywhere near you; I know a lot of cops,” he stated with slight humor and anger in his voice.

“What happened to your long hair?” You hugged him close, noticing how short his hair was.

“Oh ah…some old man chopped it off,” Thor replied, letting out a defeated sigh.

“How is your brother doing with everything now?”

“He’s a lot more protective, sometimes a little too protective,” You breathed a chuckle, forcing Steve to crack a smile. “I was only going to stay for a month or so, but he convinced me to stay and start over. Even got me a job, and looking back, I realized it was the best decision I have made for myself in a long time.”

“Doesn’t Billy know where you are?”

“The thing about Billy is--” you sighed, meeting Steve’s eye “--is he never asked a lot of questions. The only time he took an interest in my life was when it was beneficial to him. As strange as it sounds since we were married for six years, Billy has no idea where Thor lives or that he’s a firefighter.” You bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “But I know it’s only a matter of time before he figures it out and finds me.”

“Don’t you mean if he finds you?” Steve narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to figure out the answer himself.

“No. Finding people is part of his job. Figuring out their habits, retracing their steps, and so on. He’s quiet, sneaky, and might already know where I am and is waiting for the right time to strike.” Your eyes flickered to the front door and then back to Steve.

“Don’t think like that.”

“How can I not?” You shrugged. “I mean, I already feel like someone is watching me. I am constantly looking over my shoulder. I barely sleep; hell, I almost hit you with a bat.”

“But you didn’t,” Steve reassured, scooting closer to you. “Besides, you have way too many people that care about you, and they won't let anything happen to you.”

“I know, but you don't know him.” You shake your head, running your hand through your hair. “You don't know what he’s capable of.” Your voice cracked, staring down at your shaky hands. Steve reached over and hesitantly placed his hand over yours, and you looked up at him.

“I can say everything is going to be okay like everyone has been telling you, but you’re right, I don’t know what he is capable of, and I don’t know what the future brings,” he breathed, giving your hands a soft squeeze. It sent a warmth coursing through your body, easing your body to relax. “In these moments, life is tricky, but if you continue to hide and live in the past, it tells him he won. But if you break down barriers, and dare to move on and live in the present, then you won. It’s hard to move on, trust me, I know, but it gets easier with time.”

You scoffed. “It’s always about time.”

“It is, and no one ever gives you a direct answer of how long it will take,” he said, narrowing his brows together. “I’m happy for you, though. You got out, and that is always the hardest part. I’m sure there were moments when the idea of getting out felt impossible, but you’re here now. You trusted yourself and got out, and look how far you’ve come.” He gave your hands one more reassuring squeeze before he brought his hands back to his lap.

You let out a deep breath, your racing mind coming to a stop. “Thanks, Steve.”

He nodded, shooting you a small smirk. “You mentioned finding people was part of his job; what does he do for a living?”

“He helps run a private detective agency called Anvil.”

“Anvil.” He furrowed his brows together, leaning back against the couch. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“They helped solve a lot of big cases.”

“Didn’t they assist the FBI with the Arson Artist case like a year or so ago?” He asked, peeking over at you.

“Yeah, that one sounds familiar.” You bit your lip, trying to remember who he was. “Wasn’t he the guy targeting first responder's families because they kept putting out his works of art he created through arson.”

“I think the word he used was destroying them,” Steve sighed, clenching his jaw.

“What was his name again?”

“Alrich Killian.” Steve sat up with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together, and glanced over at you.

“Yeah, that’s it; how did you know that?” You questioned him, but then you answered your own question. “Oh, wait, you used to live in Brooklyn.”

“Yes, but I did talk to Anvil when I was brought in for questioning.”

“Really? Why were you brought in?”

“I know a few people who lost someone in those attacks,” he answered, staring down at the floor and letting out a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. That’s awful.” You reached out and placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“Yeah, it was. It was tough watching my colleagues go through it.” He nodded, staring wide-eyed at the coffee table before they traveled to your hand on his forearm. He placed a hand over yours as his eyes met yours. “It had to be hard saying goodbye to someone before you left for work, not realizing that would be the last time.” The look in his eyes was all too familiar to you. It was one you have seen one too many times in the mirror yourself; it was pain. You gulped, squeezing his forearm once more as you pulled your hand back to your lap.

“I can’t even imagine.” You rubbed your lips together, not knowing what to say.

“And with it being such a traumatic event, all of us were advised to talk with our department therapist, and many of us did. I think it helped all of us, and it makes me happy that I chose a profession that is willing to take care of their employees.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome. It’s the same at my job.” You nodded with a warm smile. “If I’m being honest, you’re one of a few I’ve talked to about Billy since I got here.”

“Wait, really? Why?”

“It’s not something I want to talk about, and I don’t know how to talk about it.”

“I get it. It’s hard to talk about the past because you can’t erase it, it sticks with you, and the only thing you can do is forgive yourself for what happened and grow from it. Trust me, it’s hard reliving those memories you would rather forget, but it helps to talk about them instead of bottling it up and leaving it for another day.”

“Spoken like a true professional,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Trust me; it will help.”

“I do trust you,” you confirmed, making his smile spread a little wider. “Maybe, I’ll give it a chance.”

“Is that the time--” he pointed to your clock on the wall and whistles “--I should get going. I have a shift in five hours.”

“I’m so sorry this is my fault.” Your smile turned into a frown, running a hand through your hair. “I was going on and on about my…”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupted you, holding up his hands. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. It happens, we lost track of time.” You nodded with a tight smile.

“I’ll show you out.” You went and opened the front door when he stopped and turned around to face you. He was close enough that you could see he had little specks of green in the blue of his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh, the reason I stopped by was I wanted to give you a housewarming present.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a billiard number 8 ball on a keychain.

“Is this because I beat you,” you smiled as he placed it in your hand.

“You caught me on an off day,” he joked, putting his hands in his pockets, walking the short distance to the stairs connected to the small porch.

“Keep telling yourself that punk, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stopped and turned around. “Are you going to be okay after I leave? I could call your brother on my way home.”

“I’ll be okay, but I appreciate it. If you didn’t show up, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Happy to help, and if you ever need to talk, my ear is always open,” he smiled, stepping down the stairs. “Have a good morning, YN.”

“You too, and have a safe shift,” you waved, closing and locking your door behind him. You looked down at his gift, and it brought a smile to your face. It was a silly gift, but the memory behind it made it more meaningful.

________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 9! We finally got to learn about her tragic past, and I hope some of you got answers. We also got to learn who her husband was, and for those of you who don't know who Billy Russo is, he is the beaut off The Punisher. Was anyone surprised? I thought putting him in the part made more sense because Brock Rumlow would be too obvious, and I felt like he didn't fit the part as well as Russo did. And what about Thor coming to the realization of what was happening to his sister when she showed up on his steps? Do you still think he still regrets not noticing it sooner? And Steve, could the reason he left Brooklyn be because of what happened to his friends during the Arson Artist mess, or was it something else? All these questions, so little answers! Haha! Hope you all are still enjoying it after this deep part. Remember likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading!

144 notes · View notes

nowandajenn · 3 years

Text

Blue Christmas- Six

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Warnings: language, angst, shitty moms, family drama.

Author’s Note: I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

December 24th

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.

The same thought runs through my head like a conga line as I stand in the bathroom of Connor’s house, finishing up my makeup.

“Hey, you almost ready?”

I jump at the sound of Connor’s voice and his sudden appearance behind me in the mirror and almost stab myself in the eyeball with my eyeliner pencil.

“How pissed do you think they’d be if I just didn’t show up?” I ask him rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

“Well, dad would be disappointed but he’d understand, and mom would probably come and hunt you down and never let you hear the end of it.”

“I could just never answer her calls again.” I shrug.

“Yeah, but then she’d show up at your house, the studio, HERE....and since I don’t feel like having her come over unannounced because you decided to be a chicken and skip out on Christmas Eve dinner, move your ass. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

As we stand in front of my parents’ front door, I run through a list in my head of things that I’d rather be doing than getting ready to face my parents. Or more specifically, my mother.

Get stung by a jellyfish. Having to walk through a room full of Legos barefoot. Pulling my own fingernails out one by one. Okay, maybe I went too far with that one.

“You ready?” Connor asks.

“No.” I deadpan.

Before we can stop her, Olivia reaches up and rings the doorbell.

I heave out a sigh of relief when it’s my dad that answers the door, knowing that at least I’m not going to be insulted before I even step foot inside the house.

We get ushered inside the house take off our coats before my dad wraps me in a hug.

“Where’s Chris?” he asks.

“He’s over at his dad’s house. You only get me tonight.” I say with a small smile.

“I guess we’ll have to make do.” he huffs out dramatically.

I make my way into the kitchen and my sister Colleen immediately hands me a glass of red wine.

“Here, you might need this.” she tells me. I roll my eyes, knowing that there’s no other choice than to nut up and face the music.

“Hey mom.”

My mom turns from the stove, her face completely devoid of any emotion.

“I didn’t even know if you were coming tonight, since you haven’t returned any of my phone calls or anything.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called you back. Things have been a little.....” my emotions start to bubble up in my throat, threatening to choke me. “Things have been busy. I’ve been swamped with work and getting last minute things done for Christmas. I wasn’t actively trying to ignore you.” I tell her.

“Why did you come with Connor and Olivia? Where’s Chris?”

Here we go.

“He’s at his dad’s house.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“Because I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t show up here tonight. Chris will get let off the hook, though, right?” It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.

“Chris is a busy man. He has an excuse.”

I take a deep breath, count to ten, and let it out before walking out of the kitchen. If there’s anything my mother loves more than passive aggressively insulting me at every turn, it’s getting the last word.

We’re all sitting around the living room opening presents when the doorbell rings. Since I’m closest to the door, I get up to answer it and nearly have a small stroke when I open the door.

“Hey.” Chris says, standing on my parents’ porch with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

I can only stand there and blink owlishly at him as my brain tries, and fails, to come up with something intelligent to say.

I look over my shoulder into the house to see that everyone is thankfully not paying attention, and pull the front door closed behind me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my breath puffing up in clouds in front of my face.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking, but listen to me. I know your parents don’t know about what’s going on with us, and I know that if they think something is wrong, they’re going to be all over you.” Chris tells me.

I wrap my arms around myself and swallow hard.

I hate that he’s right.

“Can we just pretend that everything is okay? Just for tonight? We get through dinner with your parents and get you off the hook, and then, we can....” he trails off.

Before I can either agree or tell him to get the fuck off the porch, the door opens and my dad steps out.

“Chris! Hey, we thought you weren’t going to be able to make it!” my dad says, pulling him in for one of those man hug things.

“Not a chance. Finished up early so I headed right over. Sorry I’m late.”

My dad eyes me disapprovingly. “Get in the house before you catch pneumonia.”

Three things happen simultaneously when Chris steps foot into the house: Olivia squeals at top volume (because Uncle Chris is her favorite person in the world, second only to me) and runs into his waiting arms, my mom’s almost always stern looking face breaks into a huge smile, and Connor and Colleen’s jaws both drop open at almost the exact same time. It would be funny if I weren’t shitting my pants even more now about how the rest of this night was going to go.

Halfway through dinner, things are going about as well as can be expected, but I’m still ready for this night to just be over. Between Chris sitting next to me and having to act like we’re still the Chris and Kelly we used to be, the 13 passive aggressive digs my mom has thrown at me over the course of the evening, and the headache trying to hatch in my brain, I’m ready for this night to be over.

“How are things going at the studio, sweetheart?” my dad asks me.

“They’re fine. It’s always busy this time of year.” I tell him, pushing the food around on my plate.

“It must not be that busy if you can afford to be closed during the middle of the holiday season.” my mom sniffs.

“Brenda-” my dad warns.

“Mom, just let it go, okay? I needed a break. Things were a little hectic and I was getting burnt out. I needed some time off, and so did my staff.” I tell her.

I reach for the bottle of wine to refill my glass, and my mom snatches it from my hand.

“You’ve had enough. You’ve been drinking like a lush tonight, and I know you’re smoking again. I can smell it on you. You treat your body like shit; no wonder you can’t get pregnant.”

The sound of several sets of silverware clattering against the fine China that’s only brought out for Christmas is deafening.

My face burns with embarrassment and my heart lodges itself somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. Hot, angry tears spring to my eyes, and it takes me a minute before I can even move.

Chris is absolutely frozen, absolute shock and disappointment evident on his face at what my mother just said. It was the lowest possible blow she could have dealt, and she just absolutely nailed me with it with no remorse whatsoever.

Without a word, I push my chair back and stand up on shaky legs and leave the table and everyone hears the front door slam less than a minute later.

When his brain can fully process what just happened, Chris gets up and runs out the door after me, just in time to hear

“Just let her go. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. She’s too sensitive.”

When Chris comes outside, I’m leaning against the passenger side door of his car, trying and failing to light a cigarette through my sobs.

“Hey, hey, stop. Come here. Give me that.” he says, taking the lighter from me. He flicks it once and holds the flame steady so I can light the cigarette and I take a deep drag in. He lights his own and leans against the car next to me.

“I stopped being surprised by anything she said a long time ago, you know. I stopped being shocked when she would make shitty comments about my weight or my clothes or anything I did. She’s always been like that with me. Nothing was ever good enough. I was never going to be as good as Colleen or Connor because I was the mistake. I was the baby she never wanted. I never tried to let it bother me or let it get to me, but....” I sob quietly and sniffle in the cold air. “Man, she just fucking sucker punched me right in the face. I never should have even told her about it; about how I was having trouble getting pregnant......I should have known.......” my words trail off as more sobs shake my body.

“Come here.” Chris whispers. He pulls me against his chest and wraps his arms around me and I hold onto him as tight as I can.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispers against my hair. Over the sound of the wind blowing, I can hear raised voices inside and can only imagine what’s going on in there. And to think it had been a pretty decent night up until that point.

“Will you take me home? I just....I don’t want to go back to Connor’s. I can’t be around any of them right now. I just want to go home and see Dodger and drink some more.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @southerngracela @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo @harrysthiccthighss @jessaywahh-blog@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe

Kinktober 2020: @saiyanprincessswanie @superquirky-blog

#chris evans x oc #originial fic #blue christmas #chris evans x kelly evans #chris evans x wife #drama #angst #nothing like a family to fuck up a family #holiday drama #shitty parents #this was harsh to write

96 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 21

First

~~~

Now that she didn’t have the adrenaline of ‘gun! to my head!’ keeping her awake, her eyes drooped. She ran her fingers over every fold of her costume to look for bugs, then frowned when she didn’t find any. After triple-checking herself she found that the criminals had actually been nice enough not to do anything. Huh.

She opened a portal and stepped in front of the bat family, smiling weakly as she gave a wave. “Salut.”

Nightwing rushed forward and slung her arm around his shoulders to keep her properly upright. “Christ! What did they do to you?”

"Some sort of tranquilizer,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. “We need to warn the Waynes.”

She could feel Nightwing tense under her, and the silence that spread through the bat family told her that they, too, were struggling to come up with an answer to what she’d said.

“You’re not in any state to do that,” said Batman, finally.

“I can open a portal.”

“You’ve been to Wayne Manor?” Asked Nightwing, his smile evident in his voice.

Shoot. They knew how her powers worked now, she had to be more careful.

She opened an eye just enough to send him a glare. “No, but I’ve been outside it.”

His smile dropped. Good.

“You need to get home,” said Red Robin. “I’ll make sure everyone turns around.”

Marinette blinked a few times and looked up at him. “But patrol --.”

“Go,” said Red Hood with a sigh. “And take tomorrow off, too.”

She groaned quietly and pouted, but they were smart enough to look away. Dang. After making sure that everyone wasn’t watching, she opened a portal to her bed and dropped onto it.

She closed the portal and exited her transformation just before her eyes shut.

Two nights later, she was out on patrols again. The bat family had complained and tried to talk her out of it, but they couldn’t exactly stop her. She hopped over a rooftop and checked around, only to pause when her receiver crackled. She turned it on.

“Language!” Said Batman and Nightwing.

She grinned. “What happened?”

“Since when have Gothamites had bulletproof windows?” Red Hood complained.

Red Robin’s grin was evident in his voice when he spoke: “Oh? Are you alright?”

“Well, considering I just bodyslammed into a window, I’ll say no.”

She snickered. “I assume you do that often?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s probably why they’ve started doing that, then.”

“Shut up! I’m in pain!” He complained.

“Wait! Everyone, shut up! Why did you bodyslam a window?” Said Robin.

“I don’t know how to pick locks. Also, there was a burglar.”

There was a chorus of everyone screaming 'WHAT' and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Where are you? I can pick locks.”

“WHY?” Asked Nightwing.

She shrugged. “Chat’s dad sucked. Anyways, where are you?”

He mumbled an answer and she headed in that direction.

She couldn’t help but laugh when he came into view, laying spread eagle on the sidewalk and glaring at the window above him.

“Hey.”

He looked up. “Yo.” He pushed himself to his feet and they walked to the door.

She pulled two pins from her pockets and went to work on the locks. After a few minutes of work, it finally clicked. She opened the door with a bow so deep Alfred would be jealous. “After you.”

He grinned and pulled his gun out. She took out her pistol.

They stepped inside the dark house. There was a family tied up on the ground of the living room and she smiled kindly as she knelt down, untying them. “You should all get out of here.”

“My wife is still here! You have to help her!” The woman whispered urgently, locking a hand around her wrist.

Marinette nodded. “Of course. We’ll do our best. You need to get your kids outside, ma’am.”

They looked reluctant, but they complied.

She glanced at Red Hood and her smile dropped. They raised their guns in unison.

They slipped through the halls together, footsteps muffled by the carpet. They kicked open doors, leaning in with their guns at the ready, then continued on to the next.

Within a few minutes they had cleared the whole house, all that was left was the door to the basement. They shared grim looks and she swung the door open slowly.

They stepped down a bit, hands searching the walls for a light.

They only got a few steps down before a shot rang out. The railing between them splintered and the pair whipped around, guns out.

It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the light. The criminal was holding the woman in front of himself as a shield, revolver pointing at each of them in turn.

“Drop your weapons!” The man screeched in a high voice.

The vigilantes glanced at each other. There was no way they could get a clear shot at him with the woman in front of him, anyways. They flipped their safeties on and dropped their weapons over the railing.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. The man was clearly in a panic. Any wrong movements might make him shoot. However, as her eyes found their way to his revolver, she recognized he couldn’t have more than five shots in his gun.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Before Red Hood could stop her, she had hopped the railing. A shot rang out, nailing the wall where her head had been seconds before.

Four shots to go.

Unable to stop for a second, she dropped to the ground and reached for her pistol.

Pain. She registered the pain before she heard the shot. Her shoulder screamed in protest as the bullet clattered to the ground at her side. Her suit did nothing to lessen the pain, it only kept her body in one piece.

She just needed to hold out a little longer.

Three shots left.

She pushed herself to her feet, fighting the urge to cradle her arm as she held out her pistol.

Another shot. This one hit her square in the chest. She stumbled back a few steps with the force of it. A coppery scent filled her mouth.

She couldn’t care. As long as she was the one being shot at...

Two shots.

“LADYBUG, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU --?” Began Red Hood. Apparently he’d snapped out of his shock.

Crap. She’d hoped it would last longer than that. She could see the criminal turning his gun onto him in his surprise and forced herself forward --.

The shot hit her leg. He must have realized that his normal shots weren’t working and was trying to slow her. Or maybe he was just shaking. It didn’t matter. She tried a step forward. She wheezed in pain. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

She shifted her weight onto her other leg.

One.

She lunged the last distance and grabbed the hand he was holding the gun with, forcing it down and pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before raced through her from a point on her side. She broke into a wide grin even as she was forced to stumble back, her hand flying to where the bullet had hit.

They’d won.

She turned her head to look at Red Hood, to tell him that it was safe now, that he could get the hostage now. The words died on her lips.

Why’d he look so horrified?

She waved her hands to say ‘get a move on’ when something caught her eyes.

Her hands were slick with red.

Her gaze fell to her stomach. Maroon stained her spandex.

She had lost consciousness before she’d even hit the ground.

Pain jolted her back to the present. Her vision was a blur of color. She blinked her tears away.

Red Hood was leaning over her, using his trademark jacket as a temporary way to bind the wound.

She smiled faintly. Good. His jacket didn’t match his outfit anyways.

Oh. Wait. He was saying something. She stared at his mouth, watching it move and move, but unable to hear anything above the ringing in her ears. Was it from all the gunfire? Was she dying?

She didn’t want to know.

He picked her up as gingerly as he could and, after saying something to the likely traumatized woman, raced her outside.

God, she wanted to sleep. Her eyes drooped over and over again, only to jerk back open with every painful step. She pressed her face into his shoulder and tried her hardest not to cry.

Her back hit the bed and she shot awake. The bat family were all leaning over her, yelling at... her? Each other? Themselves? They were all yelling over each other, but she couldn’t distinguish voices or words. She supposed she should just be glad she could hear again.

She could see everyone cleaning her wound, but her body had stopped feeling the pain. Was this shock? Wasn’t shock bad?

A hand reached out to touch her earrings and she caught it before it could take them off. She tried to speak but blood gurgled from her throat. Still, Nightwing seemed to get the idea, tugging his hand from her grip and moving to tend to her wounds.

Her shoulders relaxed. They were trying to treat her in her suit. Good. She didn’t want them to know.

She opened her eyes blearily. Sunlight streamed through the window, assaulting her vision.

She groaned and reached a hand up to block the light, only for pain to race through her veins. A guttural scream escaped her lips.

A person she didn’t even notice shot up from where they’d been sitting and stepped into the light.

She blinked a few times, then gave a weak smile. “Hi.”

“You’re stupid,” said Robin, leaning over her to make sure she hadn’t irritated her wound.

She grinned. “No, you.”

He snorted. “That’s all you got? No witty comeback today?”

“Well, I was shot.”

His smile dropped a bit at that and he had the decency to look sheepish. “Oh. Right.” When he was sure that she hadn’t messed her body up any more than she already had, he dropped back into his seat.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into the soft pillows. She should ask what type of mattress this was. It was worth saving up for--.

“Why’d you do it?”

She opened an eye to find Robin watching her intently. She sighed softly and turned her gaze to the ceiling. “I... the guy had a gun. I can’t -- or at least I thought I couldn’t -- get hurt by guns. Red Hood and that lady could. What else was I supposed to do?”

He frowned. “But you’re not invincible.”

“Apparently not,” she agreed. “But I thought I was.”

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stood and closed the curtains for her.

She woke up a while later and, after very carefully testing out her wound, pushed herself up to a seated position. It hurt, but she could make do. She checked her bandages just to make sure she was fine.

Then nearly jumped out of her skin as her eyes found Batman standing in a dark corner.

Her shoulders relaxed as he came to sit at her bedside.

“Salut,” she chirped, giving a small wink.

He didn’t smile, though that wasn’t all that surprising. “Hi.”

Her grin slid from her face as she looked around. “How long have I been out?”

“The better part of two weeks.”

Horror flickered across her face. “Two weeks? And you didn’t wake me up?” She started shoving her blankets away, only for him to press her back into the bed.

“Lay back down. You were shot five times, you need rest.”

She scoffed. “What I need is to report in for work. My boss is lenient but she isn’t that lenient --.”

“Relax.”

“Relax?” She repeated incredulously. "How am I supposed to relax? My job is on the line!”

“Your job will be fine.”

“Not everyone is rich! I can’t afford to just miss whenever I need!”

Batman frowned. “I can give you money if that’s what you --.”

“What’s with you rich people and offering money like its nothing? My problem isn’t money! I actually enjoy my job, I don’t want to lose it!”

The man sighed and held up his hands in an attempt to placate her. “I can put a word in for you --.”

“And let you or my boss figure out my identity? No thanks! Let. Me. Go.”

They stared each other down.

“You’re acting childish,” he said finally.

“Childish?” She repeated, her voice screaming danger. She pushed herself out of bed despite the pain and stalked towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest. “You want to call me childish?”

She didn’t know why she did it, honestly. Maybe it was the stress about her job. Maybe she was still woozy from her bullet wound and the sedatives she’d been put on to lessen her pain. Maybe it was her anxiety about the fact that she’d been hurt. But she did:

“Mr. Idon’twanttokillanyone is really going to call me childish? Newsflash: your personal morals don’t matter! They stopped mattering the minute you decided you were going to become a vigilante.”

His eyes widened. “I --.”

“Shut up! It is your duty to make sure that these people -- these people that trust and depend on you -- don’t come to harm --!”

He frowned. “I don’t let them come to harm.”

“You don’t -- you --!” She clenched and unclenched her fists. “The moment Joker breaking out of Arkham became a pattern and you decided to keep sending him there, you began bringing harm to them. Every little breakout is your fault! You can’t seriously think Arkham will continue to hold him, can you? No! But you keep sending him and people keep dying!”

The man sighed softly. “I don’t want to become like the people who killed my parents,” he explained.

She tried not to scoff too hard at that. “Your feelings don’t matter! This is your duty now, but that doesn’t make it about you! You think I actually want to kill someone? To kill him? I don’t -- I’ve never --” She swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill over. “-- I can’t even stomach the thought! But at least I understand it’s necessary!”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but she didn’t want to hear it. Tears blurred her vision as she picked up her yoyo and jumped out the window. She didn’t even bother to look back, to pay attention to the familiar architecture, to pause to make sure she wasn’t hurting herself more, to do anything at all.

All she cared about was getting away from that.

~~~

i was gonna put the words “sorry in advance” at the beginning of the chapter but didn’t want to ruin the surprise

still, i considered being nice and i feel that deserves a little praise

don’t worry guys you’ll get a bit of fluff tomorrow i’ll make it up to you i swear--

ah, yes, the scene that started it all

i remember reading this post and expanding on the scene a little

and it eventually became the story you’re now reading

go send the post and poster some love, it’s great

Me: *starting to finally get to sleep after tossing and turning all night*

My ghost: *opens the door* hey just coming to check on you are you alright are you sleeping well --

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything

#hOo boy was this longer than i thought it would be #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #satisfied #timinette #timari

183 notes · View notes

writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Fifteen Years Later

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Summary: Set fifteen years after the twins from “I Need You” were born, the Hood children discover just how outlandish some fan theories are

Warnings: Swearing, fan theories

Requested: Nope

A/N: Yeah so this is inspired by discovering some of the theories people had about louis’ son after he was born and I missed this universe so thought it would be fun to add a little more to it. It is technically a Calum x reader fic but it’s mainly just about the kids, but I hope you guys enjoy! As always please remember to let me know what you think - send me asks, reblog and comment, hearing your responses always makes my day a little better and makes me want to keep writing :) and also please don’t take this too seriously, this fic is just a bit of fun, please don’t attack me for it or somethin

“Hey, can I come in?” Maia didn’t wait for Leo to respond before she sauntered into his room and flopped down onto his bed.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Leo said, rolling his eyes a little, making another edit to his essay. “What’s up?”

“I’m bored,” Maia shrugged, pulling out her phone.

“And it’s up to me to entertain you?” Leo questioned, swivelling his chair around to look at his twin with raised eyebrows.

“That’s your job as my dear older brother,” Maia confirmed with a cheesy grin directed towards him.

“I thought twenty seven minutes didn’t count as being older than you?” Leo mused, turning his chair back around so that he could return to work on his homework.

“It does when it’s convenient to me.”

“Nowhere in my job description does it say that I have to entertain you.”

“Arsehole.”

“Bitch.”

Silence fell between the twins as the two of them went about their separate activities - Leo doing his best to finish his homework, Maia scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

The two of them hadn’t shared a room in years. They had moved back to Australia when their mother found out that she was pregnant with their younger sister, Sophie, their parents having wanted to be nearer their own families for the birth of their fourth child.

Leo and Maia had been five when Sophie was born, and they had spent so much of their lives up until that moment being practically attached to the hip that they resented their parents a little for splitting them up.

So it was logical when their parents had their fifth child, Kara, two years later, that Maia and Leo would room together again.

The Hoods moved again when the twins were thirteen, Theodore was eleven, Sophie eight and Kara six, into the house that they still lived in now, with each child having their own room at last.

Calum had taken a lot of time away from the band in recent years, choosing to spend more time with his family.

It had been his idea to move house, understanding that as much as the twins were still still rather inseparable, they did need their own space as they grew into their teenage years. So he had spent months working on the house for them, setting up all of the children’s rooms exactly as they wished, with much help from his best friends, who had also moved back to Australia a few years prior.

And yet it was hardly uncommon to find Maia in Leo’s room - he had gotten first pick of the bedrooms on account of being the eldest, much to Maia’s distaste. It wasn’t that Leo’s room was the biggest of the childrens - no, he had allowed Maia to have the largest room, but it was the placing of it that sparked so much jealousy between the twins.

It was the room that had the best view, overlooking both the garden, which, since moving in, Y/N had spent so long tending to and making it look beautiful.

“Oh my God!”

“What’s happened?” Leo asked in alarm, not expecting Maia’s outcry. His twin began to laugh.

“Come look at this!”

“What is it?” Leo asked again, rolling his chair across the room, away from his desk and towards the bed to have a look at Maia’s phone screen.

“Fan theories.”

“Fan theories?” Leo repeated, furrowing his brow. “Why’s that so amazing?”

“Because they’re about Dad!”

“What?” Leo gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Can I borrow your computer?” She asked, already leaping off of his bed towards the laptop on Leo’s desk and opening it, copying the web address that she had been scrolling through on her phone.

“You’ve found some 5sos fan theories?” Leo cackled, moving his chair back in front of his desk as they waited for the website to load.

“They’re insane, as well.”

The twins lapsed into silence as they began to read through the blog posts together, occasionally laughing at some of the more outlandish proposals being made.

Finally, Leo spoke, leaning back a little in his chair with a slight frown on his face.

“So… they think that Dad is actually with Uncle Ash, and that Mum and Aunt Kaykay are just, what - beards?” Leo shot a questioning look to Maia, whose expression remained gleeful as she nodded.

“That seems to be the case, yeah.”

“So… what’s their theory about us?”

“Us?”

“Well… do they think that we’re actually adopted by Dad and Uncle Ash or what? Because there are definitely plenty of photos released of Mum pregnant - especially when she was having Kara,” Leo pointed out.

There was a knock on Leo’s door.

“Yeah?” He called, the door opening to reveal Theodore, his head still buried in a book.

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, eyes still intently focused on the pages in front of him.

“Theo - come look at this.”

“I’m busy,” he denied, already beginning to walk away.

“You’ll find it funny!” Maia insisted, grinning over at Leo who rolled his eyes affectionately at their brother’s actions.

“Doubtful - your sense of humour sucks,” Theodore countered, already halfway down the hallway and about to go downstairs.

“Hey!”

“It’s food time,” Theodore repeated, at last looking up from his book, back down the hallway at his siblings, his expression looking as though he was attempting not to burst into laughter at the look of indignation on Maia’s face.

He didn’t wait for more of a response from her, however, before turning and walking downstairs to where the twins could now hear the sounds of their other family members clattering around in the kitchen and their father singing along to the music playing.

“Hey!” Leo protested when Maia huffed in response to Theodore’s attitude and grabbed her twin’s laptop, slamming it closed and taking it with her downstairs.

Leo gave an exhausted sigh and shook his head before slowly standing up and stretching, following his younger siblings.

The usual chaos greeted Leo as he entered into the kitchen.

Sophie was skipping around laying the table for food, with Kara following her, gripping the knives and forks tightly and looking rather serious as she did so. Theodore still had his head buried in his book but was, at the same time, reaching up into the cabinet nearby the fridge and getting out enough glasses for everyone.

Maia still had Leo’s laptop in hand and was attempting to get the attention of their parents who were stood by the stove, Y/N cooking and Calum leaning against the counter next to it, a grin on his face as he said something to make his wife laugh.

“Hey - you know the rules, Maia, no gadgets at the table,” Y/N said, finally catching sight of Maia, who had given up her attempts and had slouched into a seat, placing Leo’s laptop on the plate in front of her and pouting.

“That’s not even your laptop,” Calum pointed out, laughing as he crossed the room to place a kiss on the top of his eldest daughters head. “How was your day - you okay?” He added gently.

“Fine - I wanted to ask you two something,” she explained.

“Is it what you were trying to show me?” Theodore piped up from the other side of the room, where Kara was now attempting to help him sort out the drinks for everyone.

“Now you’re interested,” Maia huffed, opening up the laptop.

Calum sat in the chair beside her, looking attentively at the screen, always willing to take time to involve himself in his children’s lives when they gave him the opportunity, eager to listen to whatever it was that they were currently interested in.

“Can’t it wait, sweetheart - food’s ready.” Y/N said, bringing over the food and placing it in the centre of the table, fixing Calum with a look that had him smiling guiltily at her.

“No, this is important!” Maia insisted, ever stubborn and determined to get her way.

“Alright,” Y/N sighed, though it was clear to everyone in the room that she was trying her hardest to suppress her laughter. “What is it?”

“When were you going to tell us that you’re a beard to hide Uncle Ashton and Dad being together?” Maia questioned shortly, her lips twitching at the edges in her best attempt to maintain a poker face.

Calum choked on the water he had just taken a drink of.

“What’s a beard?” Kara asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at her parents curiously.

Neither of them answered, Y/N too busy laughing and Calum attempting to collect himself.

There was a smirk on Maia’s face as she, too, looked between her parents.

Sophie was looking equally confused by Maia’s term and even Theodore had looked up from his book to watch the exchange, mild interest on his face.

“What is it?” Kara repeated, looking over to Leo instead, desperate to understand the conversation.

“Maia’s just being silly, K, don’t worry,” Leo assured his youngest sister, sitting down at the table and Kara immediately climbed up onto the chair beside her.

“But what does it mean?”

“Maia’s suggesting that I’m only with Dad to cover up that Dad’s actually with Uncle Ash,” Y/N explained, still grinning to herself at the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Calum had also begun to chuckle along, his eyes crinkled as he focused on the screen of Leo’s laptop.

“Why would you do that?” Sophie asked, taking the chair beside Kara, swinging her legs under the table as she waited for everyone else to join them sitting down so that food could be served.

“Are you?” Kara questioned in confusion.

“No, sweetheart,” Y/N said and met Calum’s eyes, the two of them grinning at each other. “Just some of Dad’s fans like the idea of him dating Uncle Ash-”

“Or Uncle Mike or Luke,” Calum interrupted knowledgeably.

“Yeah exactly - a lot of it was just about the idea of them being together or just their friendship but there are some occasions where the theories… go beyond that,” Y/N explained, evidently picking her words carefully.

“So you didn’t just have us all for PR?” Leo asked, feigning surprise.

“Of course we didn’t,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s been a while since I’ve looked at fan theories,” Calum said, a certain kind of affection in his voice. “Were you looking at the extreme theories?” He asked, looking interestedly at his daughter.

“They seemed pretty serious that you and Uncle Ash were secretly together - they reckon that you and Mum staged all the photos from when you were kids to make it seem like you had been together for that long.”

“And apparently your management forced you to marry Mum, even though you didn’t want to - something about a morse code pattern that you tapped during an interview once asking for help,” Leo inputted.

“Yeah - I think I read that one as well. I remember being tweeted about it,” Calum confirmed reminiscently.

“You used to read fan theories?”

“Yeah - out of curiosity more than anything,” Calum shrugged.

“I used to get tweeted them a lot,” Y/N added. “Put the laptop away, Maia? Food’s going to go cold.”

“And I’m hungry!” Sophie added, but her cheerful grin was still present.

“Tell Theodore to put his book away,” Maia huffed, annoyance in her voice and looking at Theodore who was sitting opposite her.

“Don’t call me that,” Theodore snapped in response, his eyes immediately flared with anger.

It wasn’t uncommon for Maia and Theodore to butt heads, especially over trivial things.

“Theo, put your book away - Maia, put Leo’s laptop away,” Calum sighed after catching Y/N’s eye.

“But you said you’d look!”

“I will - but after tea, alright?” Calum soothed his eldest daughter.

“Besides - we already know a lot of the more… absurd ones.”

“Like what?” Sophie asked eagerly, beginning to dish out the food now that everyone was present and ready to eat.

“He’s still reading!” Maia cut her sister off, pointing accusingly at Theodore, who did indeed still have his book laying open on his lap under the table, eyes trained on it.

“Snitch,” he muttered, but closed the book after receiving stern looks from both of his parents.

There was a satisfied smirk on Maia’s face as she relaxed in her chair again.

Leo caught her eye and rolled his own after catching the expression on his twin’s face.

“I’m confused,” Kara stated after a moment, her young face scrunched up as she stared down at her plate, looking as though she was trying to comprehend ideas way past the understanding that her eight years of age allowed her.

“About what?” Calum asked through a mouthful of food, rewarding him with a scolding look from Y/N that he responded to with a sheepish smile. Kara pointed at Maia, still frowning. “The theories?” Calum suggested before Maia could make some sort of snarky remark and Kara nodded.

“Why would you lie?”

“And why would you have ended up with five kids?” Theodore inputted.

“I read a theory that I got pregnant with someone else to force Calum to stay with me,” Y/N stated casually.

“What?” It was a communal cry of shock from all five children, staring at their mother in complete surprise, while Calum lapsed back into laughter.

“Yeah, some people thought that I got pregnant by someone else, told Calum that the twins were his and so he stayed with me out of duty.” Y/N said, a wry smile on her face, glancing over at her husband. “But that was from people who didn’t like me rather than anything else,” she added.

“What about the people who think Dad and Uncle Ash are together?” Theodore asked curiously, and Leo saw triumph cross Maia’s face at having piqued their brother’s interest.

“Well there are a lot of theories,” Calum said slowly.

“Some think that you guys are actually all adopted by the two of them,” Y/N said. “And that I must live in a shed outside or something to account for why I’m always here.”

“A shed!” Sophie shrieked, laughing and Kara joined in, though looking a little uncertain, just wanting to fit in with her older sister.

“Maybe not a shed precisely, Soph,” Calum laughed.

“But that’s the gist of it, yeah,” Y/N confirmed. “Oh my God!”

“What?”

“Cal - do you remember when Leo broke his arm?” Her eyes were sparkling with amusement and Calum’s eyes widened, his mouth splitting once again into a wide grin, throwing his head back.

“That was probably one of the most far fetched ones,” he agreed after having recovered a little.

“What about when I broke my arm?” Leo frowned, thinking back to when he was eight years old and had fallen funny during a football match, breaking his arm.

Calum had missed that match - having been called into the studio with Michael to get some recordings straightened out. When Y/N had called him in hysterics in the hospital waiting room, he had rushed straight there. Ashton, Luke and Michael had come along a little while afterwards with the other kids in tow - Ashton and Luke having been babysitting at the time.

“I don’t know if you guys remember - I don’t know why you would - but Ash caught the flu a few days after Leo broke his arm and I remember that there was a theory that I actually rushed off to the hospital to visit him and then management faked Leo’s broken arm to cover up that I was really there to see Ash.”

“They thought I faked having a broken arm?” Leo asked, blinking at his father and frowning.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“When the twins were first born, the same fans thought you two were dolls.”

“Dolls?” Maia repeated.

“Yep - obviously those nine months that I was pregnant with you had to be fake as I was supposedly ‘over-doing’ the pregnancy symptoms-” Y/N was cut off by Calum’s snort of laughter.

“I forgot that people said that.”

“Lucky you,” Y/N said drily. “And so when you were born there was no way that either of you two could be real - therefore you had to be dolls, made specifically to look like us two and made to look properly human.”

“But… we’re not dolls,” Leo pointed out.

“Maia’s got the personality of one,” Theodore mused.

Maia’s protests were lost under the sounds of Sophie and Kara’s giggles and Leo tried to stifle his own laughter, not wanting to aggravate his twin further.

“That’s enough, Theo,” Calum said, but he, too, looked like he was holding back chuckles. “It was something to do how you always looked the same in every photo, you were always positioned the same or something?” He looked to his wife for conformation who gave a shrug before nodding.

“Something like that.”

“We were babies - what were they expecting from us? Backflips or something?”

“I would’ve been so proud of you if you’d done backflips as a child,” Calum sighed. “As it stands, though…”

“Rude,” Maia huffed, but gave in and smiled at her father’s teasing jab.

“I can do a cartwheel!” Kara inputted, puffing up her chest proudly. “Sophie taught me!” She added, after looking over to find that Sophie was looking at her.

“And that’s why you’re my favourite,” Calum assured her.

This caused an outbreak of protests and grumbling from the other four children, all of whom looked greatly offended despite none of them really taking him at all seriously.

“I’m the eldest, surely I hold some form of special affection in your heart,” Leo complained.

“Eldest by twenty-seven minutes!”

“Those twenty-seven minutes are what hold me in higher standing!”

“You two were researching theories that you’re not really our children,” Calum pointed out. “Kara doesn’t know how the computers work.”

“I do!”

“That’s true - she can get onto Minecraft,” Theodore agreed. “Though it’s understandable you resent Maia and Leo, they are rather annoying at all times.”

“Hey, you weren’t the favourite either so don’t get all high and mighty on us.”

“Why aren’t I the favourite?” Sophie asked, looking genuinely distraught.

“Tell you what - whoever cleans up after tea will rise the ranks of favourite child.”

The effect of Calum’s words were immediate, Sophie, Maia and Leo springing to their feet to help out. Kara giggled as she watched her older siblings playfully fighting over who got to clear away Calum’s empty plate and Theodore rolled his eyes to himself, letting out a long-suffering sigh and picked up his book again.

“You know manipulating your children like this makes you a bad person, right?” Y/N asked as she watched the chaos in the room.

“Well of course it makes me sound like a bad person when you put it like that.”

The sounds of clattering dishes had attracted the attention of the dogs, two of which came bounding into the room, the youngest - a spaniel named Milo -still a puppy, who jumped around yapping at the children. The other dog - also a spaniel, named Bowie - instead came over to the table, licking the hand Kara stretched out for him before walking over to Theodore’s chair, silently begging for attention.

Theodore had always been the child that animals gravitated towards.

Almost absent-mindedly, he dropped a hand down to stroke Bowie’s head and a small smile appeared on his face, though his eyes remained fixedly on his book.

Duke entered the kitchen, age waring him down and making his movements slow. He attempted to bark but seemed a little too tired as he ambled his way over to the table, flopping down next to Calum’s chair.

Calum scooped up the small dog and placed him on his lap.

“Hey, old man.”

Y/N reached over to pet the elderly dog, a sad smile on her face.

“We’ve done alright, haven’t we?” She asked Calum quietly.

“Theo?” Kara’s voice was quiet from across the table.

“Yeah?”

“Will you read with me again tonight?” She sounded shy asking her brother. Y/N was momentarily distracted from Calum and looked at her two children, Kara looking at her older brother imploringly.

“Of course I will,” Theodore agreed, his voice low but kind and gentle in a way that it only sounded when speaking to his youngest sister or the dogs.

“Yeah - I think we did just fine - maybe not as interesting if half of those theories were true,” Calum said, moving one of his own hands off of Duke’s fur and cupping Y/N’s face gently.

She laughed a little at that.

“Maybe we’d be a little more interesting if they were true,” she agreed, smiling prettily up at him in the way that even now still brought a flutter to his chest.

“But I think we’ve done just fine, Nib.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fluff #calum hood x you #calum hood imagines #dad!Calum Hood #dad!AU #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5 seconds of summer imagine #I Need You #Fifteen Years Later

205 notes · View notes

alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Walking the tightrope

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 6.018

Characters: Janus, Virgil, Roman, Emile, Andy. (Patton, Logan and Remus mentioned once.)

Pairing(s): Platonic Anxceit, past platonic Royality

Warning(s): Angst, shooting mention, abuse, toxic parent, yelling, death, suicide, self-harm implication, scars mention, hospital mention, overdose, major character death, funeral, panic attack mention, breathing difficulty, self-deprecation/self-loathing, crying, swearing

Summary: Janus moves into a new town due to a tragedy and makes friends with Virgil. As he learns to support his new friend, he realizes how much life sucks even in new beginnings. When another tragedy dawns on him, he decides he's going to try to prevent this from happening ever again.

A/N: Guess what? This started out as a vent fic and then turned out to be... whatever the hell that is. Please read the warnings carefully. As much as it sounds like the saddest and angstiest thing you'll ever read, I promise that it somewhat has a happy ending. I also don't know how I managed to write 6k words, don't ask. Hope you can still enjoy!

✾

So long to all of my friends

Every one of them met tragic ends

With every passing day

I'd be lying if I didn't say

That I miss them all tonight

And if they only knew what I would say

« I know how it feels. »

« To be the new one around? »

« To be the odd one out. »

« Mh. Doesn't seem like you like it much here. »

« Oh believe me, » the stranger turned to Janus, the zips of his leather jacket clattering against the wooden table they were sitting on. « I'm going to be the first one to blow this town. »

That got a chuckle out of Janus, which made the stranger extend his arm.

« My name is Virgil and I don't usually come up to people and be all friendly, but you know, outsiders might understand how I feel better than the locals. »

« The longing feeling to just head home already when everyone else is staring at you and pointing fingers? Yeah, I get it. » the boy nodded, smiling in exchange, then he took Virgil's hand. « I'm Janus. »

« Well Janus, » Virgil wanted to laugh at the odd coincidence of roman-rooted names. « Let's have some fun in hell while it lasts. »

« Oh I already went through and came back five times. It'll be a piece of cake. »

They let their water bottles meet like they were clinking two glasses of white wine together, ready to cheer for an important occasion.

Three months into their friendship and neither had surprisingly bailed out.

« Come on, » it was dark outside and they, of all places, were making use of the kids' park's yellow light lamps. « Confession time. » Virgil sat on one of the swings and motioned for Janus to join him.

« Is that some sort of town tradition? »

« Nah, I just never got to play thirty-six questions in my golden teenage years. »

Janus got onto the swing next to Virgil, moving slowly and humming lost in thought.

« What do you want to know? »

« Anything you want to tell that comes to your mind. That's how it works. »

« This thing has rules? » Janus raised an eyebrow and watched as the other giggled to himself.

« No, I just made them up. »

He rolled his eyes, still smiling in amusement and tried to travel around his mind for any notion: as much as they had stuck together for a while, they still didn't know each other to the core.

Virgil shifted in his seat, swinging slightly thanks to his feet moving against the ground.

They started off with simple facts, how one of them had stolen candy as a kid and got away with it, how they had never watched some of the most famous movies, how they had pretty unusual interests.

Then something clicked, like a door opening for a safer, bigger space they could enter.

« I came here because we were forced to run away. » Janus let out after a brief pause.

Virgil turned to him, now all serious and focused. Careful.

« We lived in a very small town and there was a pretty brutal shooting in my neighborhood. » he sighed heavily. « They didn't catch the shooters, there were possibilities of them coming again so we were immediately gotten to safety. At least … at least the ones who survived. »

The other boy bowed his head, unable to imagine how that must have felt, leaving your childhood home without a single notice of whether your other relatives or your friends were alive or not.

« To this day we haven't gotten news from the detectives. » Janus reminisced of when he used to spend entire days with Remus and Logan. They did say they were going to hang out that day but he was too busy with homework …

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

« Your turn. » he dryly said.

Virgil got the hint and looked up at the sky as if in search of an answer; he was more debating whether or not to open up entirely like he did. Was it too early? He surely didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

Yet there was like some sort of force pulling him, pushing him to say whatever came up to his mind instantly.

He decided to play it somewhat safe.

« I have some scars. »

« Oh yeah? Childhood ones? Or surgery- »

Virgil shrugged. « More like … accidents. » that was what they were. Terrible accidents he hated but couldn't help but make real.

Janus snorted, definitely not having understood the implication. « Do you need someone to prevent you from tripping over ladybugs? »

Virgil considered it.

« Actually, yes, yes I do. »

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

One day I'll lose this fight

As we fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

It was another one of those nights and Janus was growing sick of it.

Couldn't there possibly be a way to sneak his friend out of such a horrible home situation? If only there were laws permitting something like adopting someone your age …

His phone buzzed on the nightstand and he took it immediately, words of emotional despair appeared on his chat with Virgil.

He was just so done with life and Janus could almost feel it through their chat client.

At first it didn't seem too unusual. Virgil would give him snippets of when he fought with his dad, nothing too serious.

But then he noticed the frequency with which they happened, and Virgil started trusting him enough to explain the entire conversations they had; or, better, what his dad yelled at him for either ten minutes to half an hour before he was done and let the poor boy seal himself in his bedroom.

The worst thing was while he would feel like the worst person existing in the entire universe for the entire night, his dad would already feel peaceful ten minutes later.

In the meantime, he also destroyed Virgil's psyche with every fight that happened.

Not that he cared or even realized. He would've probably laughed at that statement.

Janus was just furious.

It had been six months ever since he'd gotten to know Virgil and there was no way someone so wonderful was being treated like trash.

He picked up his phone and put it to his hear, waiting for the other to respond.

Of course, when Virgil greeted him, he could hear his broken voice like tiny pieces of glass that were already broken, being stepped on time and time again, becoming nothing but dust.

« What the hell happened? »

« The usual. » he heard him sniff. « I simply exist, but I do it wrong. »

« Virgil there's not right or wrong way to exist. »

« I know that. It's him that does not. Everytime he comes pissed off from work he just needs to take it out on any of us back home I just can't do it anymore. I was only typing on my computer, didn't even say a word and it led to him insulting me because he saw one book on the ground. »

« This is insane. He is insane and I'm going to get you out of there. »

Janus started pacing around his room.

« Please. In any way you can find, please do it. »

His heart sank at the urgency.

He still had no clue how to help, so he simply sat on his bed.

« How am I supposed to live like this for another probably five years with all the university stress I'm already going to have? »

« Does his yelling make you less motivated in studying? » maybe grounding him, finding exactly how he was affected, could help.

« I get unmotivated at everything. It's as if a depressive episode just hit you all at once while you were having a pretty okay day. I just … » there was a pause on the other side. « I really haven't told this to anyone else because I was always scared of it. »

Janus was immobile. « Go on. »

« Everytime he even just looks at me with a hint of disgust or any general negative connotation I already feel awful. And when he criticizes me to the point of insulting me it's even worse and it's like all of his negativity transformed into self-loathing in me. »

He bit his lip: he really wanted to punch a man.

« Basically, you believe everything he says. »

« In the long run it's impossible not to have all those degrading adjectives marked in your brain. But it doesn't end there. I feel so angry at myself, not because I wasn't smart enough to prevent the fight but because I can't help myself. No matter what I do, it's always going to end bad. »

« And it's not like you can talk back either. »

« Oh no, » he chuckled sadly. « I'd make everything worse. I just say nothing and wait for him to let it all out. And then … then I leave and that's where the scary part comes. »

« You mentioned it earlier … what scares you? » Janus was afraid of the answer.

« Uh, well. You know how I said that I become incredibly self-hating? It's like this ball of anger at the pit of my stomach and it's as if something inside me were telling me to hurt myself to make it stop. »

« Hurt yourself? » he really didn't like where that was going.

« I hate it as much as you do, but it's a thing I don't control. It's this part of me that keeps screaming in my head or I won't be satisfied. So I do it, I … those scars I told you about, I did them. It's the only way I have so far that quiets down my anger instantly. And what scares me is … sometimes I don't even regret it when I truly realize it. »

Janus considered what to say, he didn't want to overreact or scare him even more than how much he already was.

« Okay, I think maybe you don't regret it because you feel better afterwards, right? »

« Possibly. »

« As for it being the only solution you have. You have already considered having a distraction but it didn't work, probably. Is that because you feel like you can't do it by yourself? »

There was some silence on the other side, so he gave Virgil all the time he needed to come to terms with his feelings.

« Alone I'm sure I can't do anything. I mean, look at what kind of conditions I'm in right now. »

Janus sighed. « Then let's do this. Let's talk like this everytime you feel like that. »

« Janus- »

« Give me a code word you can text me and I'll ring you immediately. »

« J, I already did it. Tonight, I did it, I did it before I was able to write to anyone. » his voice felt choked, like he was about to cry again.

« Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad at you. The important thing is you got yourself treated. Breathe. »

After some more words of reassurance, Janus told him to lie down while keeping his phone close.

He sat with his back against the wall instead, an idea in mind.

« You like My chemical romance, don't you? »

« This is not a good time to shame my musical preferences. » he let out a chuckle. « But yes, I do. »

« Okay then, close your eyes. »

« What, is Gerard Way going to appear in my room once I open them again? »

Janus mentally slapped his arm. « Will you just work with me? »

« Alright, eyes closed. »

The boy took a deep breath, before starting to hum a song Virgil immediately recognized.

It surprisingly worked, as he focused only on Janus's voice and the way his singing differed from the original, how it was softer due to the hour, how everything felt better when you didn't think of the world surrounding you.

« Just remember you will always burn as bright. »

Soon enough, Virgil wasn't responding anymore and Janus ended the call, settling into bed as well with one horrible thought.

How long until Virgil couldn't endure that anymore?

Be strong and hold my hand

Time, it comes for us, you'll understand

We'll say goodbye today

And I'm sorry how it ends this way

If you promise not to cry

Then I'll tell you just what I would say

He should've known.

Ever since he heard a knock on the door so late at night he should have known something was wrong.

Virgil appeared on the other side of the door, looking distraught as though there had been a ghost instead of his friend right in front of him.

« I did something bad. » it was like he didn't even believe his own words.

Janus's eyes widened. « What happened? »

And then, for some reason, he seemed to withdraw.

« It's nothing- I just … Can you come out? »

Janus stepped outside, a little weirded out by the sudden request as it was almost midnight.

Talking to his friend didn't seem to be an option; he just kept quiet, he was distressed and wiping away at his silent tears, trying to not make Janus notice as he steadied himself by holding his hand.

If only he'd understood sooner.

Virgil led him to a spot, a little hill nearby the city you could reach by walking about fifteen minutes from their little neighborhood. There was none at that time, just a lonely bench.

Yet the upset boy preferred to sit on the grass.

« Will you tell me what's bothering you? »

« I just don't want to be alone right now. » Virgil responded through the tears.

Janus felt anxiety rising in his chest as he murmured an “okay” and strengthened the grip around the other's hands.

Only a beat of silence before the world came crashing down and the sky fell on their heads.

Virgil launched himself at Janus and hugged him with all the might that was left in his body. He felt arms around him hugging him back, hearing words of concern he didn't want to answer because once he voiced reality it would have become too true and he was too scared to accept it.

Tic, tac, time was running out.

« I took some pills. » he blurted out.

He felt hands on his shoulders pulling him back.

« What? What pills? How many? »

Janus's stare was unbearable, he couldn't look up anymore, it felt too heavy. Too heavy, too much.

« I don't know, » his shaking hands wiped away a tear. « All of them! » he yelled, finally. He gasped for air right after, he thought this was because of his crying, but he sure as hell knew his body was starting to shut down.

« All of them?! » he could feel the tears in Janus's voice as his grip on his shoulders tightened.

Virgil started sobbing again and brought his hands to his face. « Please don't leave. » he murmured.

« I won't. I- » Janus was shaking as well, he had just sent a text for someone to call an ambulance. What else could he do? « How long has it been since you took them? »

Virgil shook his head violently. « Too long- too late. »

« It's never too late. The doctors will arrive soon- »

« Late. It's- They won't. Not in. Time. » he wasn't able to talk properly anymore, he wasn't sure whether it was a panic attack or his respiratory system failing him. « Almost three hours ago. »

« Three … » Janus was shocked.

He was suddenly stiff. Three hours was enough for a person to die of overdose.

« I was scared to go alone … » Virgil admitted through the tears again, not looking up, fear stuck in his throat. « I needed to see you one last time. »

Janus was took over by an uncontrollable need; he took the other's face in his hands and forced him to look at him. « You should've called me. » he retorted, trying to repress the sobs.

« I couldn't. I'm sorry. » Virgil put his hands on the other's arms. He apologized again and over again until Janus told him he didn't have to and he didn't need to be forgiven for anything.

« You're angry. »

« I'm heartbroken, Virgil. You didn't get what you deserved because of the horrible people surrounding you. That's not fair! » his voice rose at the last sentence. Yes, he was actually angry, but not at him. He was many things and felt many things at once and he didn't know how to handle those feelings again.

« I don't want you to go. » he had hugged him instantly, because seeing his face meant it was happening, while looking at the dark meant absolutely nothing.

« It's okay. »

« No, it's not. »

There were sirens in the distance.

None of them said a thing in their embrace for a whole minute, their silence broken only by the occasional sobs.

« Janus- »

He could feel Virgil's heart rate slowing down.

« No. No, no- »

The ambulance was coming, they could make it.

« I love you. »

« I love you too, just don't give up. »

« I think I will … lie down. »

Virgil's head dropped on Janus's shoulder: the other moved so he could rest part of his body on his lap.

« Hey J. When you see my dad again … » Janus lifted an eyebrow, he had been caressing his friend's hair in a state of panic for the past minutes. « Tell him he can go fuck himself. »

Janus let out some laughter that almost came off as hysterical with the state he was in.

« I will. I will, Virgil. I'll punch him for you. » he promised with a broken voice.

Virgil sadly smiled at him before closing his eyes one last time.

« Remember … » he whispered, voice low and cracked. « Take care of yourself. »

One last wish.

And he was gone.

Janus immediately doubled over himself, longing for screaming right then and there, instead he kept quiet, his face buried in a dead body.

Right after, he felt two arms lifting him up, he wouldn't have been able to register whatever had happened until the day after.

Those were the doctors.

They could make it, he had thought, stupidly.

Janus could only perfectly recall one moment of that night, when, at three a.m., as soon as he had gotten into a decent mental state to go back home, he reached what once was Virgil's household, knocking on the door.

And, when Virgil's father answered it, he punched him in the face.

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

I'll fail and lose this fight

Never fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

Three days.

Three days is all it takes to organize a funeral.

Three days weren't enough for Janus to accept that any of that had been happening.

On the morning right after his death, his mother had commented on how there were news of a student's death and how terrible they were. Then she had looked at her son's shattered expression, his red eyes and marked eye bags.

She had frowned deeply and caught him in a long-lasting hug, understanding.

He didn't remember what happened on the second day apart from him staying in bed for far longer than necessary.

And then there he was.

All dressed up for the occasion on a Saturday morning, ten o'clock in the front rows of a building for a religion Virgil didn't even believe in.

Thankfully his family was on the opposite side of Janus's seating place.

Funerals were those types of events you couldn't miss, but that you couldn't also wait to leave; you promised yourself you wouldn't cry and yet tears would pool in your eyes at any heartfelt confession made, even the most fake ones.

Anything remotely sad is able to break you down where you're on the verge of weeping.

Still, choking back tears was the usual answer.

Janus looked up when Virgil's sister stood and walked in front of the altar, she was holding a letter and a microphone with both of her shaking hands.

She began talking about her brother and their childhood experiences, all the siblings stuff one would expect. Then she mentioned the letter in her hand.

It was a note Virgil had left before meeting with Janus. Something he knew nothing about.

She wanted to read it aloud.

He zoned out for most of it, not registering her voice like he actually didn't want to know. He caught glimpses of memories of his past and present, of the real people who cared, not one mention of his dad was made.

Then he heard his name and suddenly he couldn't focus anywhere else.

« I've only known him for a little less than a year and yet he's been better than anyone I had ever met in my eighteen years of existence. »

Janus put his hands on his face. How dare he leave him like that?

« It's going to hurt. Don't blame yourself. You couldn't prevent this. It was a choice I made alone. I know it sucks and it's selfish, but I wanted a way out. I'm glad I'm getting to spend my last instants with you and that I got to meet you in time. I'll greet you on the other side when time will come. »

She looked up at him and was met with a longing look that hoped she was over and done with that. She gave him a small nod and smile, then went back to read the conclusion.

Janus wanted to laugh, laugh and cry and curse Virgil.

The rest of the ceremony went by and it was now his turn to bid his last farewell.

He knew words were useless when it came to those situations, so instead he gently leaned in and started off humming a familiar melody.

« If I could be with you tonight, I would sing you to sleep. »

He wanted to reach out and shake him, tell him he knew he was pretending to be asleep and it was all a big prank so he could leave his family and run away.

Janus would've gone with him.

The light behind your eyes

Virgil looked like he'd taken the form of a storm cloud.

His skin gray, almost non human. Fully clothed with a suit he would've hated, Janus could hear his usual groan in his memories, which made him sadly laugh.

He looked cold and dead and too real and he hated it.

The light behind your

Janus closed his eyes only for a second.

A second in which that whole night came back to him; he felt Virgil's arms surrounding his chest, tears soaking his shirt, panic rising in his lungs.

He wished he could hold him again, take him away and let him into a safer zone.

Instead Janus's mind took him to the instant he watched as Virgil's eyes darkened, as if you could turn off a star, as if you could turn off the sun with a click.

Sometimes we must grow stronger and

You can't be stronger in the dark

When I'm here, no longer

You must be stronger and

The Monday after, Janus felt himself pushed by an incredibly strong and ardent force.

He had gone to school no problem under the aghast stare of his parents, impatiently waiting for the bell to ring for break time. Perfect, as he dared to admit they were, ideas had started to squirm in his mind ever since the funeral.

As he had gotten out of the church, he remembered meeting Virgil's sister, she had given him a hug, showing him how there was a spot in Virgil's letter she hadn't read in which he asked her to do so.

Right after that, his mother had approached him, knowing how close they were, she had uncomfortably mentioned the school therapist Virgil had wanted to meet, doctor Picani.

Emile Picani walked right past him as Janus had started going on the search for his next class.

« Excuse me, »

The doctor turned around in no time, a calm smile placed on his lips. « May I help you? » he spoke softly.

There was no way he didn't know who he was, given that the news of Virgil's suicide had ran around pretty quickly.

« Yes, I was actually looking for you. I'm Janus Dean, from the senior year, I was hoping I could ask you a favor. » there was a sort of electric buzz in his chest as he watched Emile furrow his eyebrows in interest.

« A favor? Therapy sessions aren't a favor I do for students, sweetie, it's my job. » he explained kindly.

Yeah, he didn't get it.

« That's not what I was looking for. I need another kind of help. » he tried, this time Emile simply nodded, letting him finish so he could understand.

« I know this is not the biggest city but as we've seen it doesn't mean there aren't people who need help, even with the smallest things, especially when they're young and experiencing hard struggles for the first time, »

« What I want to try to do is organize a support group made by youth for youth here in this school. I know Virgil was too afraid to actually come to you and I know there are more kids who would rather express their issues to people their age cause that's what happens everyday with online friends. »

« People understanding each other because they're going through the exact same thing at the same time, thus they can empathize so much better and feel at ease. I'm not trying to downgrade your job, on the contrary I wanted both your help to set this up and … well, I was hoping to be able to host it by myself so I'd need a hand on how I should … behave? » he finally looked up at the doctor, breathless.

Picani was smiling the widest he'd ever seen anyone do.

« Janus you are the most incredible person I have ever met. I would love to help! But at one condition: I'm going to stay with you in the first support meetings, then, when we agree you can handle it on your own, I'll leave you be. »

Janus's face lit up with hope and excitement, he sputtered out multiple thank yous and, afterwards, they set a day to work on their project and contact the school's principal to get the permission they needed.

He started walking towards a class he'd have had in ten minutes when he heard a younger voice call him. Janus turned around and found a boy he'd only noticed once or twice in the halls, he only remembered him heading for theatre club at times while he was leaving for home.

« Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with doctor Picani. My name is Roman and I just wanted to say that … well, in short I have gone through a similar thing as you are right now, some years ago. » he looked down, reminiscing of his own experience.

Had Janus lived in that city long enough, he would've known of a middle school student's suicide case, Patton Jones.

« I always had this longing feeling to do something about it but I had felt hopeless until now. What I'm trying to say is, if you need help with your idea, I'd be more than happy to assist. »

Janus hoped that Virgil had been watching over him on that day, because that was the first time he felt like the wind was blowing his way.

« Thank you, Roman. You can already come to Picani's studio tomorrow after class if you'd like. » the other boy gave him a nod. « Until then. » they exchanges smiles and parted ways.

His project was going to see the light of day and there was nothing else he would've asked for in the world right then.

If I could be with you tonight

I would sing you to sleep

Never let them take the light behind your eyes

I failed and lost this fight

Never fade in the dark

Just remember you will always burn as bright

It took maybe a month for the support group to finally be successful: at first it was only Janus and Roman, waiting for people to show up and thus chatting along with the school's therapist.

Things started off as awkward until they worked together so well that more and more people were encouraged to show up.

Christmas holidays were drawing near and Janus was nothing but amazed at how far they had come.

He had just said goodbye to his co-host, Roman, and given Emile that session's achievements when he caught someone standing in front of the room's door as soon as he opened it.

« Oh? »

That couldn't be real.

There was a definitely younger boy standing before him, hands in pockets and the same grumpy expression he used to see on Virgil's face. He … he did somehow resemble some of Virgil's traits.

Janus shook that thought off of his head, reminding himself it was probably only because of their similar clothing choice.

When he noticed him, the stranger's eyes widened.

« Can I help you? »

« No, I was just- Well … »

« Did you want to listen? »

The boy probably took that as an attack as he retreated and made himself smaller in his black hoodie.

« It's okay if so, people can come and listen and not say a word if they aren't comfortable with talking. We want it to be a safe space for everyone, without being judged. »

He seemed to consider, standing still. « Okay. I'll see. »

« Well, » the older boy extended his arm. « My name is Janus, pleased to meet you either way. »

He gave him a weak smile. « I'm Andy. »

« Well then Andy, I'll see you around or at next week's meeting? »

Andy nodded and looked down, still hunched over himself; they waved at each other and went home.

It was nothing more than two days later that Janus found Andy sitting at the same wooden table he and Virgil had met.

All those coincidences were making him both dizzy and filled with energy: he reached his new acquaintance and sat with him.

« I know how it feels. » he found himself saying.

Immediately a pair of dark eyes were set on him, a questioning look in them.

« Being the odd one out isn't fun, is it? »

« I guess. I just want to finish high school and leave this town. Living with your parents this much can be unbearable. »

There was some silence, before Janus resumed talking.

« I can perfectly understand. You know, I actually had a similar conversation at this very table one year ago. »

Andy seemed to catch on what he meant right away, he looked up at Janus for the first time, finding a confident young man in front of him.

Janus let his head rest on his palm.

« When he used to vent to me, I'd be able to soothe him with a song sometimes. I'm not saying this exact song would help you in particular, but the concept of it can. Find one peculiar song that grounds you, make it yours for when you need it. »

Andy kept watching him as he explained. He looked at him as though a guardian angel had just dawned on him. How did he know of his profound passion for music?

« And you'll see that soon, unbearable will become conquerable. » he looked at Andy with seriousness in his eyes, but spoke with a kind voice. « Remember to always take care of yourself. »

He sat up. « I will leave you alone now. » he chuckled. « B- »

« No! »

Both of them stared at each other in surprise.

« I mean, » Andy cleared his throat. « You can stay if you want. »

Janus smiled at him and nodded: sitting back down, he noticed Andy's much wider smile.

« So, what music do you listen to? »

The light behind your eyes

He couldn't believe he had come that far.

Janus walked down a street in town, a few years older, his face's structure bolder, his mood as high as ever when he was about to approach the building where his organization resided.

Which was kind of surprising as it was the anniversary of Virgil's death.

Janus was satisfied, to say the least.

He recalled a conversation he had had years prior with Emile Picani about what profession he was thinking of going for and, without missing a beat, he had answered he wished to follow the path of clinical psychology as well.

He had found his call, becoming a therapist and hoping to help as many people as he could: he now was a full time therapist, with his own studio, also visiting schools and participating in the nightly Community Support Group he had founded along Roman.

Sometimes he crossed paths with Emile and, now kind of colleagues, they shared each other's words of wisdom and finally talked more as friends than as mentor and student.

The support group had grown into a pretty big organization and he had succeeded into raising awareness at least in the town he lived in; of course, the challenge was to extend it further, but ending up on local newspapers and in broadcasting services was already a good start, along with multiple online platforms he was trying to maintain with the help of both Roman, Emile and every kid who offered their help.

Their main goal as of then was to expand the meetings to different issues so they could try and work on more specific problems instead of having a messy general one.

Janus stopped to look at the poster on the building's wall.

Some graphic design students had designed the support group flyer: it showcased mainly a picture of Virgil, since they had founded that group in his honor.

It was his favorite picture of Virgil, with his soft smile and that sparkle in his eyes he could still notice even after seeing it leaving his irises firsthand.

It didn't matter what he saw, though, cause his memory lived in him, he lived through him and he knew he would have been proud of him.

Janus looked away with an enormous sense of nostalgia and walked up the stairs.

« Just remember you will always burn as bright. »

Janus entered the building, taking with himself the light behind Virgil's eyes.

#purp's writings #janus sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani #roman sanders #ts andy #read the warnings #angst #fanfiction #sanders sides #ts fanfic

72 notes · View notes

babygirlgalitzine · 4 years

Text

we made these memories for ourselves (ao3)

one

Callum wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders, pulling him into his body. They lazed on the sofa, nothing to do with their day other than staying in each other’s company. It was hot indoors, but even hotter outside, and Callum had managed to find some fans to direct towards them, in an attempt to cool them down.

“Do you want to order in tonight?” Callum asked, squeezing Ben’s shoulder, before rubbing his thumb over his boyfriends bare skin.

Ben tilted his head, resting it on Callum’s chest. He hummed in agreement. “Too hot to cook.”

Callum chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the one cooking anyway.”

“See!” Ben moved quicker now, lifting his head to face Callum. Their breaths mingled, and even though they were both boiling, neither of them cared about the close proximity. “I’m being the perfect boyfriend, by telling you that you don’t need to cook tonight.”

“Oh, you’re thinking of me, are you?” Callum grinned, pressing his hand to the back of Ben’s head, gently holding him in place, as he craned his neck to press his lips to Ben’s.

“Hmm.” Ben hummed, their lips still connected, hands pressed to Callum’s chest. “Always.” He admitted, when he pulled away, lips plump and now wet, hand still pressed to Callum’s chest, placed just above his heart, feeling every single beat.

Callum’s hand remained attached to Ben’s head, running his fingers through his hair lazily. “You know, I realised something last night?”

Ben looked up from Callum’s lips to his eyes. He raised his eyebrows, questioning him silently.

“We have no photos together.” Callum’s hand shifted from Ben’s hair, moving to his cheek now.

He thought for a moment. Surely, they must have had one photo together from all the months that they’ve been together? “Are you sure?”

Callum nodded. “I checked.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We have no photos together. Not a single one.”

Ben smiled, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the crook of Callum’s neck, nipping at the skin slightly. “Does that mean you want one?” He joked.

“Yeah.” Callum breathed out.

“I was kidding.” Ben grinned, lips still connected to Callum’s neck, not wanting to move.

The air was stuffy, and yet Ben felt a cold chill run down his spine when Callum spoke again, his voice low and dark and deep. “I’m not.” He admitted. “I don’t want to look back in a few years time and regret that we didn’t take photos. We’ll always have our memories, but it would be nice to have photos to match them.”

Ben smiled, pressing his thumb to Callum’s bottom lip, dragging it down gently, before changing his thumb to his lips and slowly moving them to the beat of his own heart. The room was suddenly silent, the television playing music now long forgotten, the screams of children playing football outside seemingly nonexistent. It was just them. Peaceful.

“Soft.” Ben whispered when he managed to pull away from Callum. He reached behind Callum, and grabbed his boyfriends phone. “Go on then.”

“Yeah?” Callum asked.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Before I change my mind.”

Callum grinned and held his phone up, finding the camera app. He put his arm around Ben and smiled at the camera, a beaming grin and Ben pulled a funny face, sticking his tongue out and making himself go cross eyed. Callum snapped the photo regardless. Ben thought that was it then. He had one photo, and he couldn’t complain about that. So he pressed his nose to Callum’s cheek, staring up at him through his eyelashes, ready to lean into another kiss. The smile on Callum’s face never faded, and Ben heard the click of the camera once more.

two

Neither of them wanted to move. Outside, it was dark and cold and rainy. Whatever little summer that the country experienced, was well and truly over, and it was miserable. Callum had attempted to climb out of bed, but had gotten straight back in, dragged back in by Ben and his warmth.

“I’m not moving today.” Ben commented, cuddling into Callum’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his hand on his bare chest.

Callum smiled, and intertwined his fingers with Ben’s. “You don’t have to.” He picked up their connected hands and pressed a kiss to Ben’s knuckles.

“Good.” He moved even closer; their legs linked together. “You gonna turn around?”

Callum hummed, and twisted his body, facing Ben now. “That better?” Callum teased. His hair flopped in front of his eyes, completely overgrown.

“Much.” Ben commented. He broke a hand free from the confines of their bed, and nudged Callum’s hair, pushing it back so Ben could see more of his face.

They stayed like that all morning, wrapped up within one another, in ignorant bliss as they forgot about the world around them. It was lazy, but glorious, so neither of them really cared that much. Normally, on days off, Callum would wake up early to go for a jog, and then would come back and see Ben still in bed, so this was a far cry from the normal days off. It was a lot more peaceful, and slow, and they hadn’t experienced anything like this for a long time. Ben had his hands in Callum’s hair, threading his fingers through the strands, watching as they curled up underneath his touch, flicking out in short spurts next to his ears. Callum had his eyes closed, not asleep, just relaxed. It was rare for them to have a moment like this, so he wasn’t ashamed to enjoy it. His hands rested on Ben’s waist, their legs interlocked as they curled up together to avoid the cold of outside. Ben shifted slightly, so as to not interrupt Callum, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, waiting there for just a moment. Callum smiled, not opening his eyes, and deepened the kiss, running his fingers up and down Ben’s waist as they shared the moment, together.

Later, when the kiss was over and their lips were plump and red, Ben pulled back, untangling his legs from Callum’s.

“Where’re you going?” Callum asked, holding his arm out to try and grab Ben. It wasn’t like him to be needy, but something within him was telling him that he couldn’t bear to be apart from his boyfriend for even a short period of time.

Ben held his hand, running a thumb over his knuckles, as he kneeled half off of the bed. “Need the toilet.” He confessed. “Do you want a cup of tea making?”

Callum smiled up at Ben. “You’re the best.” He said, dropping his hand onto the mattress, watching as it bounced back up, before he tucked it away under the sheets.

It was barely five minutes later, when Ben reappeared with some toast and two cups of tea. He placed them down on the bedside tables, and giggled – yes, giggled – when he saw Callum.

“You look so cute.” He chuckled, and grabbed his phone quickly, before Callum moved. He needed a photo of this, just to remember the moment in its entirety, so he quickly snapped it up.

Callum opened one eye, watching Ben. “What?” he asked, still not moving. He had built a cocoon around himself, the white sheets and the pale purple blanket they had, completely covering him. It was draped around his head, and bundled up just beneath his chin. His hair had flopped in front of his eyes again, and the warmth of the bed had forced him to succumb to a pink flush spread across his cheeks.

“You look cute.” Ben repeated, leaning down, and kissing Callum’s forehead.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Did you just take a photo of me?” he asked.

Ben grinned. “Toast?” he asked, holding the plate out in front of Callum.

And if the photo later became his lock screen, Callum couldn’t really complain.

three

“No daddy you need to wear the tiara!” Lexi shouted, picking up the plastic headwear that Ben had just dropped on the floor. “Cal, tell him!”

They had been playing peacefully all day, sat on the floor cross legged as they played Mario Kart, but then Lexi decided that she wanted to play dress up, and neither of them were going to stop her. Even if that did mean they ended up looking like clowns with shoddily applied glittery make up/

Ben turned and faced Callum, eyebrows furrowed in a glare.

Callum knows he’ll live to regret it, but he smirked. “Lexi’s right babe, you can’t be a proper beautiful princess without a tiara.” He winked as Lexi squealed, placing the tiara back onto her dad’s head.

“Don’t forget darling, Callum wants to dress up too.” Ben smiled, hearing Callum choke on his water in shock.

“Do you Cal?” she asked. “Really? I’ll do your make up next! Then you and daddy can be beautiful princesses’ together!”

She jumped up and down, searching in her big dress up box, the one that Callum and Ben had bought for her, so it can stay at their flat for when she came over. Things went flying out of it, children’s heeled shoes clattering on the floor, dresses and wigs dangling precariously over the edges of the pink and purple box. Within seconds, she had lit up, her hand raised high above her head in complete and utter elation, and clasped in her hand, a third princess tiara.

Ben snorted out a laugh, his shoulders bopping up and down as he tried his best to contain his laughter.

“I think,” Callum started, leaving his glass of water on the kitchen side. He walked over, and sat beside Ben on the floor, his long limbs now stretched out in front of him. “That mummy wants a picture of you and your dad.”

Ben nudged him. “You take a photo of me like this and any privileges you think you have, will be gone like that.” He clicked his fingers together.

“I can live with that.” He grinned, face close to Ben’s. “Lex, do you want a photo with your dad?”

“Yes!” She beamed as she leaped onto his lap, taking the wind out of Ben for just a second.

Callum pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo of Ben and Lexi, the little girl in a glittery purple dress, bright red lipstick all over her mouth and chin, and a tiara. Ben, on the other hand, had red lips and equally as red cheeks, matched with blue eyeshadow that looked as if it had been scraped around his eyes, and to top it off, a tiara placed atop his head. Lexi grinned towards the camera, lipstick staining her teeth, whilst Ben forced out a smile, though it wasn’t as fake as he hoped it would be, because regardless of the situation, he was elated to be with two of his favourite people.

+ one

Music and joyous laughter swirled around them, but it was as though Ben and Callum were the only two people left on earth. They were in the Vic, floral arrangements filled with white and gold and blue places all around them. The chalkboard in the corner, right at the back, read Mr and Mr Highway-Mitchell in swirly calligraphy. People raised their glasses up, cheering each other, as kids made their way onto the impromptu dance floor, teenagers sat with their families, hands sneakily getting closer and closer to the forgotten about alcohol on the tables.

Ben had his arms wrapped around Callum’s body, his head buried in his neck, both of them just breathing each other in. Slow music has only just begun to play out of the speakers, yet they had been like this for a while now, just taking a moment to breathe and relax in the hectic day they became husbands.

“You okay?” Callum asked, hand rising and falling against the material on Ben’s back, comforting him.

Ben pulled away from his space in the crook of Callum’s neck, a genuine smile spread across his face, one that hadn’t faded from the moment he had woken up.

“More than.” He leaned forward and caught Callum’s lips in an embrace. Cheers and whistled erupted around them, and it just enticed them to carry on, both of them swaying to the music as they shared the moment, together.

A flash splayed across their faces, visible through closed eyes, and Callum pulled away, resting his forehead on Ben’s.

“I love you, husband.” He admitted, voice low. He didn’t care if people heard him, how could he? It was their wedding day, after all. But this, this moment was just for them. That was just for Ben to hear.

Ben grinned even wider. “I love you too, husband.”

A secondary flash appeared, but neither of them moved. Their hands were still pressed to one another’s backs, their foreheads pushed together, eyes locked.

It wasn’t until two weeks after their wedding that they saw those photos, and they quickly became their favourites of the day. It was just the two of them, a look of nothing but love and adoration shared in a memory that the two of them would keep forever.

#nobody asked but here u go x #ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell x callum highway #ben mitchell #callum highway #myfic

46 notes · View notes

backtothestart02 · 5 years

Text

Return to Paradise - 4/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: This is a fun chapter. I enjoyed writing it, and so, so appreciate the help of @jennlee44 and @westallen94 who were incredibly helpful in getting me to the finish line. Thanks, ladies!

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 4 -

After a night of board games and laughter, and alcohol – way too much alcohol – Iris was swept off her feet by her husband and deposited into their bed while Nora quietly made her way down the hall to her own room in the villa. It was quiet in the night, except for some distant rumblings of partygoers, tourists much like themselves who hadn’t yet made it to their beds or out of consciousness.

But as the hours passed, the sounds diminished until finally all was silent. Then, the sun rose.

Barry’s eyes opened at about half past six. Time to make breakfast. But he was struck suddenly by how beautiful his wife looked while she slept, and found himself thinking, Maybe Nora will make it.

She had, after all, made dinner the night before. And she’d done a damn good job of it. She was perfectly capable of making breakfast, and maybe she was even planning on it!

Don’t get your hopes up, whispered through his mind, but he chose to ignore it.

He looked across the room at the closed door and grinned. Then he looked down at Iris and gently drew the locks fallen over her face behind her ear. She moaned a little in her sleep and curled against the side of his body, her wedding and engagement rings brushing his skin.

His heart skipped a beat.

When she was like this with him, any doubts or jealousy melted away. Even the fear of Nora walking in on them was a non-issue. In fact, as far as he could tell, there was no noise going on outside their bedroom at all.

A devious smile crossed his face.

“Iris,” he whispered softly, gently moving his hand up and down her arm to caress her awake.

She moaned in contempt this time.

“No.”

“Aww, come on, Iris,” he teased, allowing his fingers to move over to her back and dip down beneath her teddy. “We’re alone.”

She snorted, coming awake now.

“But for how long?”

He shrugged happily, encouraged that she might be getting onboard.

“Long enough,” he murmured, slinking back down in bed so they were at eye-level.

She snickered. “You really want it bad, don’t you?”

“I really do,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then her nose, then her unresponsive lips.

“Baaarry,” she complained. “My head hurts.”

He pulled back, considering that.

“You did drink a lot.”

She groaned, pressing her face into her hand.

“Oh, why? Why did I do that?”

“Because you were losing at Scrabble,” he said easily, and she laughed.

“Or maybe I was just having a good time.” She pushed him away from her, but it didn’t stop him from coming back a heartbeat later. She sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful I have a husband that wants me so badly.”

“That wants to please you so badly,” he corrected, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he got beneath the covers and moved farther down the bed, parting her legs to make room for him.

She gasped. “No! Barry, no.” She tried to squeeze her legs back together, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Barry, if Nora hears-”

He popped his head up from beneath the covers as he drew her panties down her legs and pushed them across the mattress, dismissing how they dropped onto the floor in plain view of anyone who would walk in.

“So, be quiet,” he said, with a sexy grin on his face.

She scoffed. “You know that’s damn near impossible when you go down on me like you’re threatening to do!” she whisper-shouted heatedly.

His mouth fell open in mock shock.

“I would never threaten you, Iris.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“But promise, on the other hand…” He grinned.

“Oh…you!” She grabbed his abandoned pillow and proceeded to hit him with it.

“Hey! No- Iris!”

She was merciless, but finally he got his bearings and surged up, stealing the pillow from her hands and placing a sensuous kiss on her supple lips.

Iris wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her calf around his thigh beneath the covers. Barry deepened the kiss, his hands propped up on the bed and nudged her legs apart. This time they went willingly.

“You sure it’s not just your morning wood that’s got you so excited?” She murmured between kisses.

“Definitely not,” he assured her, sliding his hand beneath her silk teddy until it reached one hardening nipple.

Iris gasped.

But she wasn’t the only one.

A silver platter, one that used to contain two make-shift menus and a vase with a rose in it, clattered on the floor; and hesitantly – very hesitantly – Barry turned around and spotted his daughter looking traumatized as she stared at them with wide eyes.

“I…um…” Nora glanced down at the mess on the floor. “I should get some towels. Yes, that’s what I should-” She turned around and bumped right into the door. “I’m okay!”

She covered one eye with her hand and then ran out into the hall, quickly speeding down the stairs and back into the kitchen where her platters of pancakes, waffles, French toast, sausage, and bacon sat, along with the freshly squeezed orange juice and apple juice she’d prepared.

By the time she returned to her parents’ bedroom with a single towel, they’d both dressed into comfortable clothes and were already wiping up the mess she’d left in her wake.

Nora winced as she approached them.

“Sorry, guys…I guess I should have expected…I mean, you are technically a young, married couple. I don’t know what I was thinking. Though I did knock first!” Her head snapped up. “And I called you guys from downstairs.” She frowned, then promptly blushed. “I guess you were too busy to hear…”

Barry and Iris shared a knowing look with Barry’s own blush creeping up his neck as his wife approached their daughter with a warm, gentle grip on her hands.

“There’s no need to apologize, Nora. We’ll just um…” She looked back at her husband, who was avoiding eye contact with his hand roughing up his bed hair even more. She turned back to Nora. “We’ll lock the door next time.”

Nora forced a smile.

“Well,” she said brightly, then pointed towards the doorway. “Breakfast anyone?”

…

After an awkward five to 10 minutes, Nora’s showcasing everything she’d made for them made the recently lived through trauma fade slowly from memory. And Iris made sure to keep it that way by gutting Barry with her elbow every time he was about to remark with a ‘you know what really tastes good’ joke.

“This looks amazing, Nora,” Iris said when they were all sitting down around the kitchen table. “You definitely got your dad’s gene for good cooking.” She shared a knowing look with Barry.

“And Papa Joe’s!” Nora pointed out. “And Grandma Esther I heard was an amazing cook.”

Iris nodded. “Her recipes are some of the best,” she said, then muttered under her breath how that gene must’ve just skipped a generation with her.

Barry cleared his throat, and even Nora could feel the innuendo coming on. She intervened.

“Why don’t you try the waffles, Mom? I think you’ll like those the best.”

“All right.”

Iris spread the butter, poured the syrup, cut the waffle and took a bite. Her eyes widened immediately.

“These taste amazing! Nora, you are making all our meals from now on.” She glanced at Barry. “Give your father a break from keeping me satisfied.”

His jaw dropped.

“Food-wise! Barry!” She smacked his arm, and he laughed, taking a bite from his stack of pancakes.

“Wow.” Barry licked some syrup off his lips. “They do taste really good, Nora. I’m impressed.”

Nora shifted a little in her seat, suddenly bashful.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Barry and Iris shared another look, but this time it was sweet, acknowledging the bond they had with their daughter and how they were going to do everything in their power to make this a day she would never forget.

“So,” Nora began, after downing some orange juice and wiping her mouth. “What are we doing today? I know you guys were already at the beach yesterday, but-”

“No, nonsense!” Iris reassured her. “We sat on the beach and did nothing.”

Barry was mid-scoff when Iris’ nails came into contact with his hand.

“We have a whole day to do whatever you want,” Iris continued. “Do you want a beach day?”

Nora bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“But first I need a swimsuit! I thought it’d be cool if I bought one from here for our trip.”

Iris beamed and released her husband to hold her daughter’s hand.

“That was my exact thought when we came here last year for our honeymoon.”

Nora’s face lit up. “Could we go to where you went?”

“It’s on the other side of the island, Nora. I don’t know if you want to-”

Nora snickered.

“Don’t be silly, Dad. We’re speedsters. It’ll take a second.”

“That’s…that’s true, but-”

Both women looked at him expectantly, and he knew he couldn’t reveal details or complaints in front of their daughter.

“Sounds great.”

“Great!” Nora cheered. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and get a bag ready and change clothes and look cute! Then, we can go!”

“You barely a-”

“You already look cu-”

Barry and Iris’ attempts fell on deaf ears. Their speedster daughter was already upstairs and speeding around the room she’d chosen in hopes of finding the perfect outfit to wear to go shopping for beach attire.

Back at the kitchen table, Iris was grinning fondly, and Barry’s face looked to be in a permanent pout.

“This is not a good idea, Iris.”

Reluctantly, Iris turned in her seat to address him.

“Why not? It means so much to her to be where we were when we-”

“It’s not like we conceived her on our honeymoon,” he whispered heatedly.

Iris rolled her eyes and took a sip of her orange juice.

“We may as well have.”

“That’s another thing.”

“What?”

“I’m coming around to this family vacation thing.” Iris arched an eyebrow. “I am.”

Iris was amused.

“But…Iris…” He scooted his chair the inch or two closer to hers. “If I don’t get…” He reached for her breasts, only for his hands to be pushed away deliberately. “I am going to go crazy.”

She laughed. “I’d love to see what that looks like.”

“I’m serious, Iris. Just one time.”

“Ha! One time is not enough for you, Bartholomew, and you know it.” She paused. “Not enough for me either, to be honest.”

His eyes lit up. “So, you do want to!”

“Shh!” She put her finger over his lips. “Yes, of course I do. But can you be a father for 24 hours and not a horny husband?”

“Twenty-four hours?” he whined.

“You waited for me for fifteen years,” she reminded him.

“And every day was torture.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to go get ready.”

“Iris. Iris, wait.”

“I’m hopping in the shower, and don’t you dare follow me, Bartholomew Henry Allen.”

His jaw dropped, and he immediately got up.

“Iris. Iris.”

She finally stopped. “What?”

“You know what happened in that dressing room.”

Her brows furrowed, as if she didn’t know. Barry worried for a second that she’d actually forgotten. He knew the exact second it registered.

“She doesn’t know that, and she doesn’t need to know that. It’s just a dressing room, Barry. Besides…” She walked slowly over to him and slid her fingers down his chest to his waistband. “Don’t you want to see if it’s still there? In case…” She shrugged. “You know.”

His mouth went dry.

“What…are you saying?”

She smiled serenely.

“Just that you’re a very hot father. Being a good one brings its own rewards.” She winked and sashayed over to the stairs, feeling his heated stare on her until she disappeared into the bedroom.

His sweatpants, for all their thick fabric, could not contain the result of his returned hard-on. He looked down and spotted the darkening patch immediately.

“Shit.”

He sped up the stairs, rid himself of his pants and boxers and ran to the bathroom to clean himself off.

Unfortunately, the bathroom door was closed and locked.

“Nice try, baby,” Iris said from inside under the hot shower water.

He groaned. “Please, Iris. It’s not what you thi-”

She started to sing – loud and proud and off-key.

It was adorable. He hated that it was adorable.

A knock at the door startled him, and he hurried to put on a pair of shorts while he waited for the bathroom to free up. He went to the bedroom door and opened it.

“Nora, now’s not really a good-”

He stopped. His mouth ran dry.

A flower headband in her hair, the prettiest tank and mini skirt with pretty, shiny shoes with a flower each to match the one in her hair, Barry had never been filled with so much pride to see her as his daughter.

“Is something wrong?” She frowned. “You can use my shower if Mom is taking a while.”

He approached her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You look absolutely beautiful.”

She blushed beneath his gaze.

“Thanks, Dad,” she gushed, then distracted herself with the problem at hand. “Now, go! I want to go shopping!” She laughed.

“Right.” He gathered his clothes and shampoo together in a flash and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Nora.”

She smiled to herself and skipped down the hall to the stairs.

“No problem, Dad.”

…

A freshly cleaned, beautified Iris West-Allen in a form-fitting yellow summer dress did nothing to calm Barry Allen down. But she looped her arm through his, preparing for the run across the island, and he forced himself to focus.

“Okay, just follow me, Nora,” he said.

“Okay, okay, let’s go!” She said eagerly, making Iris giggle.

Barry shook his head at his girls and took off, making it to the vendor strip he and Iris had visited a year ago within seconds.

Nora came to a stop a beat after he did, and Barry was happy that despite all his suffering, the place looked the same as it had before. Every vendor, every salesman or woman, even the decorations and the fitting room with such a fond memory was exactly the same as the year before.

“Oh, Mom… I think I want more than just a swimsuit.”

Iris laughed, the sound effervescent to Barry’s ears.

“It’s okay, honey. Your dad is very good at holding things.”

Barry tuned back in. “Wait, what?”

A vision of the horror of last year’s shopping visit came back to the forefront of his mind. Hot sex in the fitting room aside, he’d barely been able to hold everything Iris bought in his arms. How was he supposed to hold everything both of them purchased today?

“Now, guys,” he started cautiously.

“Relax, babe.” Iris winked at her husband. “We’ll try not to go too crazy.”

He suppressed a groan and followed them into the madhouse.

At first, it wasn’t too bad, and he thought he’d been worrying for nothing.

Nora stopped at a couple vendors, eyeing pieces of jewelry, sunglasses, sandals… But she didn’t appear to be in love with anything, despite his wife’s urging that her dad would buy her anything she wanted. Which of course he would, but he wasn’t looking forward to carrying it.

Still, a couple glares from Iris, and Barry knew he was being selfish - and obvious about it too. This trip that had been intended as a romantic getaway inevitably wasn’t going to be. It was a family vacation now, and he needed to accept that, or he’d be making both his girls miserable on a trip they’d both been excited for.

Then it happened.

They wound up at the same place where Iris had found her leopard-print barely-there bikini from the year before. The one she’d used to seduce him in the fitting room hut. That should’ve set off warning bells right there, but it wasn’t until his daughter came strutting out of the hut with a bright yellow bikini on that he realized just what he was getting into and how strong his fatherly instincts were.

“No,” he said immediately.

Both women looked at him with frowns.

“Why?”

“Yeah, Barry, what the matter with it?”

Barry scoffed, as if it should be obvious.

“What do you me- How can you no-” He huffed and pulled Iris over to the side. “Look at her.”

Iris’ eyes widened. “I’m looking. She looks fine, Bear.”

He huffed and lowered his voice. “She looks like she could be on a Playboy magazine, Iris.”

Iris hit him immediately.

“She does not.”

“She does!”

“The bikini isn’t even that skimpy. It’s certainly like the one I-”

“Yes, I know. And how often do you wear that?”

“It’s not like we go to the beach all the time.”

“When did you wear it on our honeymoon?”

She scoffed. “Well, I wore it when-” She cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter when I wore it! She’s a full-grown woman. She can wear what she wants. You have to be supportive of that.”

He scoffed. “I do not have to be anything like that.”

“If you want good father points you do,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Are you threatening…celibacy?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“We don’t do threats. We do promises. Remember?”

He shook his head at her. “Oh…you didn’t.”

“I did.” She smiled brilliantly.

“What about this one, guys?”

They both turned to see Nora in a slightly more covered multi-colored bikini.

“Aww, Nora. I love it-”

“No.”

Iris glared. Nora looked hurt. That hurt him.

“Okay, look, Nora.” He walked over to the rack of one-piece suits that covered absolutely everything. He picked up some flowery options he thought looked nice and a couple that were solid colors. He asked for her size, then got the right ones and handed them to her. “Try these on. I’m sure you’ll love one of them,” he said proudly.

Nora and Iris shared a look, but Iris finally convinced her daughter with a nod to try them on to appease her father.

“She’ll like one of them,” Barry said. “You’ll see.”

Iris rolled her eyes.

“I guess this one’s…okay,” Nora said halfheartedly.

“I think it looks great,” Barry said, cheerfully.

Nora attempted to smile. Iris was boiling.

“Try on a different one, Nora.”

“But this was the only one I could-”

“One you picked out.”

Nora’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Wait, you picked out those other ones, Iris?” Barry shrieked.

“I’m positive,” Iris insisted, ignoring Barry.

“Okay…” Nora went back into the hut and changed again.

“Hey, Barry. Guess what?”

“What?”

“Our daughter’s a woman.”

“I know she’s a…woman.”

“She’s our age.”

He gulped. “I know that.”

“Guess what that means?” she whispered mockingly.

He glared.

“She has curves and long legs, and Barry.” He winced as she set her hand on his shoulder then dug her nails in. “She has boobs. You gotta get past it.”

“Okay!” Nora announced, pulling the curtain to the side.

Iris beamed. Barry’s jaw dropped in horror. He went to cover her, but Iris held him back.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“Do you like it, honey?” Iris asked, standing in front of Barry.

“I…do.” She turned to the side. “And the cleavage isn’t that bad, is it? I really like the colors.”

“It’s perfect.” She smiled.

She was unaware of Barry for a moment, but a sudden huge thud behind her changed that.

“Dad!”

Nora ran to him, but he was unconscious on the ground.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Iris muttered, then squatted down beside him. “Barry. Barry!” She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, then clapped a few times.

“Do you need a doctor?” a stranger asked, walking up to them, concerned.

Iris smiled serenely. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” She turned to her daughter. “Nora, why don’t you pick out a cover-up too? I think your dad would like that.”

“What?” Barry sprung up. “I’m up. I’m up. What did I miss?”

“Nora’s getting a cover-up, baby.”

“Oh.” He smiled brightly. “What a great idea. Did she come up with that?”

“No, I did.” She helped him to his feet. “And in exchange…” She dusted off his shirt and shorts. “You are not getting any for a looong time.”

His mouth fell open.

“Okay, Dad, how’s this?”

Iris looked at him as their daughter spun around in front of them. She smiled and directed her gaze back to Barry expectantly. The cover-up was sheer, but Nora clearly liked it, and Barry didn’t want sex sworn off from him for all of eternity, so he nodded curtly and forced a smile of his own.

“Looks perfect.”

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #return to paradise #chapter 4

51 notes · View notes

mrs-hollandstan · 5 years

Note

Can I request a mob Tom Holland, where he's married to reader (I'm 22) but this is his 2nd marriage (prev-zendaya) & reader's first, she's very dedicated but he's aloof & cold. He also has kids which reader loves like her own & he starts falling for reader & hence is guilty &doesn't like how kids love her. Once kid calls her mom & Tom looses his shit & calls reader names & manhandles her. All angst. But later all fluff & smut. Thank you 🖤🖤

This is actually real cute. Just beware, there's mentions of domestic abuse basically. If this'll offend you, please don't read.

[[MORE]]

The stoic face of Tom Holland should've melted away the moment he saw you, when he was in your presence, but it didn't. He was cold and reserved, sitting across from you at the dinner table with dark, caged eyes. He barely said two words to you ever and he turned his back to you in bed. When the two of you had sex, you were always on your knees, neck braced down against the bed. Not that you really minded when your husband looked like he did.

The day his and Zendaya's son, Theo called you momma was the day he snapped. From the moment you were in their lives Theo took to you like velcro. He was connected to you at the hip and loved spending time with you if he wasn't with his mom or dad. You took him out all the time with Tom's permission which Theo had to ask for considering Tom rarely ever talked to you as it was. The day the five year old called you momma when you asked him if he wanted dessert was when Tom lost it, standing with a clatter of his fork on the china plate, shoving you against the wall and caging you in,

"Did you tell him he could call you that?" He growls, face inches from yours. You shake in fear, head shaking,

"No... he called me that earlier. I-I thought it'd be fine."

"Its not fine! You're not his mother you ungrateful bitch and you never will be." He says through grit teeth while Theo tugs at his arm trying to get him off of you as he slams you harder against the wall, bracing your arms against it in a grip that you know will bruise and has you crying out. Theo tugs at Tom harder as he leans in,

"You're such a fucking whore. Is you being here not good enough?!" He hollers, reaching down to press your hips to the wall. Theo finally dislodges him though, Tom thrown off his steps, eyes still locked on you though in an angry, wide eyed glare. He holds Theo's hand, jaw clenching as he stares you down. He turns, dragging Theo with him,

"Clean this mess up. Get Theo dessert, leave it on the table, I don't wanna see you for the rest of the night." He commands. Once he and Theo have left the room, you break down, sliding down the wall to wallow for a few moments before doing as you've been told, setting the tea plate with a small slice of homeade chocolate cake, slinking up to your and Tom's room, finding the necessities to sleep in the spare bedroom. You can hear Tom and Theo in the master bathroom, Theo in the bathtub asking Tom a number of questions concerning how he treated you. Each new question posed has Tom feeling marginally guilty. He knows he shouldn't be teaching his son to manhandle women. But the way his and Zendaya's relationship ended wasn't pretty and he'll be damned if he let's Theo call you his mother now.

Theo is bathed and put in pajamas when you're turning in. He and Tom sit at the dinner table, Tom watching Theo eat his cake while you lay in bed, contemplating everything that's happened. Maybe agreeing to his marriage proposal was a bad idea. But Theo, Theo was who you really stayed for. And as if his ears were ringing, the door was creaking open and Theo was carrying a little stuffed alligator in with him. He closes the door victoriously, having looked all over the house for you in order to soothe you. Helping him up into the bed, he snuggles into you,

"I'm sorry." He says softly. You shake your head and wrap your arms around him,

"Its not your fault my love. It's okay. Your dad is just very complicated when it comes to me." You explain, his head resting against your chest. His dark brown eyes, one of the only things inherited from his father, sparkles as he looks up at you, holding Bubbles, his alligator between the both of you,

"Why? Doesn't he love you? I love you." He says softly. You smile down at him,

"I love you too Theo. Daddy just... he's been through a lot. He's very reserved when it comes to me. He has been since we met." You tell him. He nods,

"Tell me again how you met." He requests. You both know it'll put him to sleep. He chooses the real stories over the fairy tales to tire him, coming from you in your sugar sweet voice that you know he loves so much. And almost five minutes in, he's drifted off, holding you close. And not long after, you follow suit, staring down at the little boy that's stolen your heart and makes you want a little love of your own. From the time you entered Tom and Theo's lives, three years ago, you've wanted a baby. But you were terrified to bring it up to Tom, and he never talked about having another kid. Theo seemed enough for him, and the way you and Theo loved each other was like he was your son, before you even said it.

Tom goes in to check in on Theo, out of habit, finding his bed empty. He's not worried, knowing that his sweet little boy loves nothing more than comforting people in distress. He knows exactly where the little one is and it has his guilt bubbling over. As soon as he pushes into the guest bedroom, he sees the mop of dark brown hair peeking from under the blanket you both sleep under. Tom huffs, walking forward and lifting Theo from the bed gently, as not to wake him. Carrying him to your shared bedroom, he lays him in the middle, walking slowly back to the guest bedroom slowly, he leans at the edge, stroking the few strands of hair from your eyes, rousing you softly. When you shift, he can see the marks on your biceps from where he grabbed you. He purses his lips, running his fingers over the darkening bruises, your eyes fluttering open at the feather like touch,

"Tom?" You speak up quietly. He nods,

"Yeah... hey." He replies just as quietly. You rub your eyes,

"Where did Theo go?" He gestures over his shoulder,

"I took him and put him in our bed. I uhh... when I found out he was in here I figured he was proving a point. I needed to at least say something to you." He says with a sigh, sitting at the edge. You sit up just the slightest, watching him bring his leg up onto the bed and toy with his wedding band. He sighs again, jaw clenching,

"I just... you know i don't like the idea of him calling anyone else mum. His mum is Zendaya and strictly her. And I like that he's comfortable around you but... I don't like that. I don't." He lays out. You nod,

"Okay-" He holds his hand up,

"But... I need to get over it because what else is he supposed to call you? Ya know? So uhh... I guess I'm gonna have to get used to it. And of course its gonna take time but... I'm hoping that... you and I can make this work. I don't hate you and you're my wife and we should be in love not... you loving me and me hating you." He sighs again. He feels stupid and he knows he's been an asshole and it hurts your feelings. He should have never done that to you. You play with a loose thread on the comforter, not looking at him as he mutually avoids your eyes. But he finally looks at you,

"I want us to work like Zendaya and I couldn't." He says softly again. You look up, fighting every fiber of your being to not reach out and touch him. He's never been okay with it. But maybe this is the best time to do it. Leaning in, you place your hand over his. He looks down at your hands before finding your eyes again. You swallow,

"I want that too." You reply. He nods, eyes flickering down to your lips. Leaning in slowly, he slides his hand up to your jaw, pulling you in to kiss you softly. So softly, you wonder if you're dreaming. He's never this gentle. You kiss back, reaching up to hold his wrist. He clambers to his knees, laying you back against the bed. Crawling over you, he peels the button up, silk sleep shirt down to kiss between your breasts,

"You want me to prove it to you?" He asks softly. Running your fingers up his jawline, you give him a loving smile he sees all too often and returns with a scowl most times. But he returns it softly, leaning in to kiss you again. You nod, threading your fingers through his hair for the first time in the three and a half years you've known him, been married to him. He's been so reserved and now he's getting closer, more open with wide, dinosaur steps. You nod more firm this time,

"Yes... yeah, I want you to prove it to me. Please. Then let's get to bed with our boy." The words stop his heart. He wants to correct you so badly, but he won't. He won't do it. He leans in, kissing your neck before he starts to slide out of his sweats and boxers,

"Tom?" You speak up softly again. He draws back,

"Yeah?" You swallow and reach up to brush the curl from his forehead that casts a shadow over his face,

"I uhh... I love you." You say in a squeak, fearing the reaction. He smiles, letting out a little laugh through his nose. He swallows then, nodding and preparing himself,

"I love you too Y/N. I don't think I would've asked you to marry me if I didn't." He says almost in a coo. You nod, running your fingers up under his jaw. He leans in to kiss you again, lips lingering on yours,

"Now," he says, brushing his bottoms down, "let's get this over with so we can get back to her and sleep with our boy." You smile without him seeing, letting him draw your panties down with a finger, holding his arms for the first time, chest to chest.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #my writing #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland gif #dad!tom imagine #dad!au #dad!tom #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!reader #mob!au #mob!tom #blurbs #second wife!reader #tom holland blurbs

513 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years

Text

Christmas without Miracles

I’ve fallen a bit behind on my contributions to @drawlight’s Advent Calendar, but behold!

One fic using two prompts so I feel less guilty!

This one takes place in the early 1800s. No specific location - just isolated, outside of England, and cold.

This is supposed to be a few years before the 1862 argument, but if you want to headcanon a universe where this happens instead of the 1862 argument, that’s cool, too.

06 - Sleigh Bells/07 - Silent Night (2,630)

Snow had started to fall.

Just lightly, each white flake twisting down from a sky dark with clouds.

All the usual nighttime noises – insects, animals rustling in the undergrowth, even the wind in the trees – were silenced. Just the gentle hush of snow accumulating, molecule by molecule.

Aziraphale knew he should be inside. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, the cabin bright and warm and empty. Two of the three would be an improvement on what he had out here, standing on the porch, looking across the rolling, tree-dotted hills.

Cold. Empty. Silent.

He hated the silence most of all.

Crowley didn’t hate snow, so long as he didn’t have to travel in it.

Walk, and your boots filled up with snow.

Ski, and you looked ridiculous anywhere outside the Alps. And in them, too.

Riding a horse was out – if he went the rest of eternity without ever sitting on one of those again, he’d be happy.

But anything with wheels was also out – carriages and wagons and carts could barely handle clean city streets.

Trains were good, if the tracks were cleared, but so far Hell had not been interested in his proposal to build a train line that stopped at every human residence in the world. Which was fine, that had only been semi-serious, anyway.

The only remaining option was to use some form of sled.

He glared at the…sled? Sleigh? Whichever. It was small, just enough room for one person, or a small pile of supplies, to sit in it the seat, but whoever drove it had to stand behind on the runners. It was pulled by some kind of long-maned pony or very small horse that looked like it had its own ideas about who was in charge.

The bridle and reins were covered in bells.

“Do you have one without the bells?” he asked, not even really hoping.

“Nope,” the man said with the cheerful joy of one who knows he has the transportation market cornered for the next few months. “Those bells let people know you’re coming even when they can’t see you. And anyway, they keep off the evil spirits.”

“So I’ve heard.” Crowley reached over and flicked a finger at one of the large silvery bells.

Chk-chk-chk

The whole line jingled, sending shivers up and down his arms, settling at the back of his neck.

He hated that noise most of all.

Too many frivolous miracles.

First, a letter full of such threatening language that only a trek through a revolution-torn city to find his favorite pastries – as well as a not-quite-chance encounter with a certain demon – had been able to calm him down again.

Then, a commendation. Congratulations on performing your job perfectly as always.

And now, a “meditative retreat” – five months alone to think about what he should and shouldn’t be using his powers to achieve. No miracles allowed.

A month and a half in, he’d decided – he hadn’t the faintest idea.

Take the most simple of duties: sometimes, he was assigned to keep a person safe.

Did that mean use a miracle to stop them from being injured? Or to heal them afterwards? Or was he supposed to guide them, miracle-free, as if he were another human? Do what seems best, he’d be told, but what seemed best to him never seemed best to anyone else.

Or protecting himself – his corporation, rather, since Aziraphale’s true self was rarely in danger. Could he use a miracle to avoid a dangerous situation? Heal himself from an injury? Was his body the same as a human body, or less valuable? Was all this a waste of Heaven’s resources when he could simply get a new body? How many miracles were equal to one body, anyway?

Questions he shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t have to ask. He should just know. Angels received their orders, obeyed them, and chose the best course of action, because that’s what angels did.

Angels weren’t supposed to get confused.

But Aziraphale did. All the time. What did that make him?

Crowley preferred to do everything by miracle.

Need new clothes? Manifest them.

Need money? There it is.

Food? Never bothered to learn to cook. When he was hungry, he pulled fully prepared meals out of the nearest cupboard.

Hell rarely tracked exactly what he did, as long as he could demonstrate evil had been accomplished.

But they did track where he was, using miracles. It didn’t do to be more than a few miles from where you were supposed to be.

This wasn’t anywhere near Venice, which was a pity, because he’d rather like to be in Venice right now.

He stared around the bakery. “I don’t know. Just get me several things that are hot and edible.” He had a list, but it wasn’t helping. “Do you have a…stuffing? Or butter?”

“You can get butter from the general store,” the baker’s wife offered, putting together his packages.

“No. The shop person said they didn’t have any dairy.”

“He just meant milk and cream. They’ll have butter, and cheese if you want it.”

Crowley dragged the heel of his hand across his forehead. He’d lived in agricultural societies. He knew perfectly well that butter and cheese were both dairy. “Fine. I’ll go back. How about the stuffing?”

“You’ll want to make your own.”

“Really don’t.”

“I can give you a family recipe!” She started writing in pencil on the brown wrapping of one of the packages. “You’ll need ground beef, sausage…”

A few minutes later, Crowley opened the door to the bitter cold wind outside, making all the bells in the wreath jangle up and down his already-raw nerves.

Chk-chk-chk

He paused, cracked his neck, and kept walking.

Aziraphale finally had to return to the cabin, as the snow had piled up higher than his feet.

Only a single room – wood stove, table and benches, rug; there was a bed even though he didn’t sleep, a few pots and pans even though there was no food.

No chair. No books. Well, one book.

Gabriel had left him a journal, and pen and ink. Encouraged him to write down his thoughts.

Aziraphale thought best when he was reading, talking, engaging with someone or something. For the first few weeks, he’d talked to himself a lot, arguing with the empty room, having mock conversations, even reciting poetry he had memorized.

But slowly the oppressive quiet had settled across his soul. And he found himself picking up the pen to write –

What? What could he write about? His doubts? His confusion? What would he even say?

When it got to be too much, he tried drawing, sketching out what he could see. That helped a little, but once he’d scribbled down images of the room, the hills outside, the one tree he liked to walk to…well, he was back to the same dilemma, what to write?

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to list a few questions. Just so he could think about the answers.

Chk-chk-chk

The door of the last shop slammed behind Crowley, bells clattering. Shaking his head to clear it, he checked his list one more time. It looked like he had everything, though the ink was already smudging where snowflakes fell on it.

He settled the packages into the sled, tucking a blanket all around them, and pulled up the collar of his coat against the biting wind.

“Better leave room for yourself,” said the kid.

Crowley looked him up and down. Seventeen or so, son of the man who had rented him the sled and horse. He was supposed to drive it out and return with it.

“Nope. I’m driving, you’re staying.”

“That’s not how this works. We only have a few, and we need to be able to get supplies out in an emergency –”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Crowley handed over a pile of money. “This should cover the sled and the horse, in case I don’t come back. Plus a bit. Give it to your dad.” He considered the kid another moment. “You have, I don’t know, a girl you like? Boy? Anything?” The kid tried to give him a stubborn, blank look, but some of that pink wasn’t just from the cold. “Whatever, not my business.” Crowley handed over the rest of his money, saving only what he would need to get back to London. “Give him, her, or them something nice. Cheers.”

While the kid was still staring at the pile of money, Crowley climbed onto the runners of the sled and took the reins in both hands.

Chk-chk-chk

He felt that one in his stomach.

With another jingling of sleigh bells, he shook the reins –

And nothing happened.

“Go.”

Nothing.

“Move, horse!”

Now it was just embarrassing.

The kid leaned against the sled. “Are you sure? I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I don’t!” He jerked the reins back, trying to ignore the way the sound of bells hammered into his spine. “But no one can know where I’m going.”

With a shrug, the kid shoved the money into his pocket. “Pull on one side, gently, to turn. Not too sudden, it’ll tip over. Whoa to slow down, walk to go, and remember, you’re in charge.” He winked, and walked away with a swagger that wasn’t quite as good as the demon’s, but better suited to over six inches of snowfall.

Clutching the reins again, Crowley called: “Walk. WALK!” He shook them hard. “COME ON YOU BLESSED HORSE, WALK!”

Nothing moved.

Once Aziraphale had started writing, it was hard to stop.

Page after page. Whatever entered his mind.

It was nice just seeing the ink flow.

Hearing the scratch of the pen fill the silence.

Crowley got off the back of the sled and walked up to the horse, grabbing it by the bridle. “Listen, here, you, I am in charge!”

The horse snorted and stomped directly onto his foot.

“Nghaa that was not – ugh!”

The horse shook its head, jingling the bells again and again until Crowley was ready to tear his own ears off, until Crowley let go and stepped back.

The horse lashed its tail.

“Look, fine.” Crowley grumbled trying to stand where the horse could see him clearly, despite the snow that was now falling thick. “You’re in charge if that’s what you want. But I need to get somewhere. I should have been there hours ago. Days ago. You are my only way of getting there. I have nothing to bribe you with. I promise, you get fed either way, you get brushed either way, and you will absolutely get enough apples and sugar to make you sick because I’m not doing anything else with those.”

He reached out a hand to touch the horse. He had lived in agricultural societies, but he was much more comfortable around the crops and plants than the animals. Still, rather to his surprise, the horse let him stroke its nose. “Please. This is more important than you can imagine. Just get me there.”

He stepped back onto the runners, picked up the reins. “Walk.”

The horse didn’t walk. It moved much quicker than that.

Aziraphale lay down his pen, wiggling his fingers after all that writing. There were a lot of words on the page. Perhaps he should read over them.

He found himself walking back to the door, stepping into the silent night outside again.

The snow was falling so fast it was almost a physical thing, blocking his view even where the light from the door should have been enough to see the edge of the woods. It spilled across the porch, piled at the corners of the cottage.

And still, everything was so quiet. Even the wind, which had picked up, seemed to carry only the flakes and not any sound –

Were those sleigh bells?

A moment later a horse came into view – one of the small, sturdy northern breeds – pushing on through the unbroken snow, pressing through the storm with determined strides, pulling behind it a small sled and clinging to the back of that –

“Crowley?”

“Whoa,” called the dark figure. “Whoa – I said whoa! We’re here!”

With a final jingle of bells, the horse stopped in front of the porch, and Crowley fell backwards, off the sled runners and into the snow.

“Crowley! What the Hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Angel.”

“You’re supposed to be in Italy!”

“Yeah, I am. No, don’t worry, I can pick myself up.” He started to rise, then stumbled again.

Aziraphale rushed forward. “I’m – I didn’t realize – what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Bloody sleigh bells. Chase off evil spirits.” He clasped Aziraphale’s hand, pulling himself up. “I’ll be fine, just need to get a drink and warm up.”

“Of course, but – I don’t have any food or drink.”

With a very tired grin, Crowley tossed aside the blanket in the sled. “Happy Christmas, Angel.”

Crowley had needed to compromise on a few things.

He had the goose, and what he was assured were all the ingredients needed for stuffing and gravy.

Potatoes, brussels sprouts, and parsnips had been easy to find; and something he was almost certain was redcurrant sauce.

There had been no plum pudding this far from England, or mince pies, or fruitcake – though he wasn’t certain fruitcake was something you bought, it was possible all fruitcakes already existed and were simply eternally exchanged. He had managed to get a variety of sweet pastries.

Lots of wine.

And two bundles of books – the ones he had picked out at stops on the way, and the ones he had taken from the shop. Aziraphale shouldn’t have been surprised Crowley knew his favorites, but the demon was pleased at his smile either way.

There were two things to take care of first.

Crowley spied the notebook as soon as he stepped in. He only glanced at it long enough to see that Aziraphale had written a lot.

Then he picked it up and dropped it into the flames of the stove.

“Crowley! That was a private journal!”

“No it wasn’t.” He pulled off his glasses and glared at Aziraphale. “What did you think, they were going to let you keep that? Ask you to tell them the important parts? They left you here alone to write your own confession.”

Aziraphale clenched his teeth, didn’t say anything.

“I don’t like it.” Crowley grumbled. “They’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know what’s changed.”

The other issue was the horse.

“No, I can’t have a horse in the cabin!”

“You can’t leave it outside, Angel, it’s a storm!”

“I thought you didn’t even like horses.”

“I don’t! But this one got me here and…” Crowley shrugged. “And it’s as much of a bloody-minded stubborn bastard as you are, so you’ll probably get along.”

Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley could see him start to give in. “How am I supposed to hide the fact that there’s been a horse in here when Gabriel gets back? We can’t miracle it clean.”

“Eh, just tell him some traveler lost in the storm stayed here a while. It’ll be true enough.”

And so, with the horse in the corner working through its feed bag and having the night of its life, Crowley and Aziraphale set about figuring out how to make a Christmas dinner.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

Neither of them had ever cooked without miracles before. There was immediately an argument over how one peeled a potato, and what exactly stuffing was for, really.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

But the jangle of the bells had ended, the silence had been driven from the cabin, and once again they were together.

And that, in a way, was perfect.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #christmas #look this one actually is a christmas story #my writing #incidentally there is only one bed #;)#maybe don't read too much into that though #aziraphale doesn't sleep #and that horse has a judgy stare

64 notes · View notes

waywardrose13 · 5 years

Text

Mind Over Matter (Fluffy Ending)

Summary: She sold her soul for her sister, and saying goodbye to her family and the one she loved most was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Five years later, she finds herself topside, and Y/N walks into a whole new nightmare she never thought she’d have to face.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Dean x OFC

Word Count: 13,876

Warnings: ANGST, soul selling, flashbacks, nightmares, torture, graphic violence, character death, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, lack of appetite/anorexia (sort of), unrequited love, language, injury, self loathing, self deprecation, Dean is a dick, hurtful things said to reader, TW: STRONGLY implied past sexual assault/mentions of

There are a lot of warnings, please let me know if I missed any.

Written for; @spndarkbingo (Square: Somniphobia), @heavenandhellbingo (Square: Escaping Hell), @badthingshappenbingo (Square: Flashbacks), @spndeanbingo (Square: Hell)

Would rather have an angsty ending? Go here!

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jane said, sweeping a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“There are people dying,” I said, grinding my teeth. “We’ve been over this.”

“We don’t know what we’re up against,” she muttered. “We could have at least-”

“No, Jane,” I said, whipping my head around to look her in the eye. She closed her mouth, young eyes looking up at me. “I told you. We can handle this.”

“But Dean said-”

“I don’t give a fuck about what Dean said. He doesn’t get to bench us. He’s not dad,” I said. “There are people dying in this town and this is how we can stop it. If he won’t do it, we will.”

She sighed, biting her lip. “Okay.”

I smiled, putting my hand up to her cheek. “Stay with me. If I say run, you run. Don’t worry about me, okay, little duck?”

She nodded, blinking a few times before letting out a deep breath, following me into the vamp nest.

What we thought was a small nest, turned out to be a nest of about sixteen. We sliced our way through the rooms, our backs to each other as we moved through the barn.

A scream echoed through the room, and I turned to see Jane be picked up by two vamps, my eyes widening. One of them grabbed me from behind, and I let out a frustrated growl as I bucked and squirmed in his hold. I watched with a heavy heart as Jane was held down by one vamp as the other bared its fangs, gripping her chocolate hair in his fist as he sank his teeth into her throat.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing in the arms of the vamp behind me. He laughed, breath hot against my ear as one hand raised to palm at my breast. I growled, writhing with fury.

I reared my head back against his nose, and he loosened his grip enough for me to slip free. I grabbed my blade from the ground and swung it up, taking his head off in one motion.

I honed in on the vamp holding Jane down, kicking the back of his knees. He grunted, dropping to the ground and I swung my blade again, a hot spray of blood coating my face.

“Don’t move,” a voice sounded. I looked up, swallowing as I saw Jane in the other one’s hold. Her back was pressed against his chest as his hands crept to her bleeding throat, her eyes tired and legs weak as she stared at me. My face trembled as anger coursed through my veins, and I raised my blade.

“Let her go,” I hissed, his smirk growing.

“Why? So you can kill me?” He asked, his nose pressed against the side of her head. She flinched.

“I swear to God, you son of a bitch, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He asked, looking at me again. “You don’t think I’ve got friends in other places? Please. Maybe I’ll take her with me, turn her. Maybe… she’ll be my mate.”

I drew my gun, clicking the safety off. He snarled, hands tightening. “That won’t do any good.”

“No?” I asked. “It’ll hurt through.”

With him distracted, Jane was able to retrieve a syringe of dead man’s blood from her jacket pocket, and she stabbed his thigh, a cry of pain escaping from his chest. She pressed the plunger, and as he realized just what she had done, I watched in horror as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles, the sickening snap of my sister’s neck sounding through the room.

“No!” I screamed, running towards her. She fell as he did, and I dropped to my knees, catching her before she could crash to the ground. Tears blurred my vision as I frantically felt for a pulse, pushing her hair back from her face. “No! No! No!”

I shot upright with a cry. My chest heaved as I took in lungfuls of air, my hands coming to wipe my wet cheeks and push my sweat drenched hair from my face. I fisted my hand at the top of my head as I clutched the sheet to my chest, tears still streaming from my sore eyes.

My door burst open, a startled scream leaving me at the sudden intrusion. Sam stood in the doorway, a worried look on his face as he stared at me.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked. I choked on my words, looking away from him.

“She’s… she’s alive?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, knowing exactly what I meant. I turned my head towards him again, opening my eyes to look up at him. “She’s alive. I promise.”

I nodded, biting my lip as I was trying to slow my breathing down. I looked past him, spotting Dean in the hallway with his arms crossed and a hard look on his face. My heart panged, longing to be in his arms again. But I knew what I did hurt him. I watched with a frown as he turned and walked away, Sam still staring at me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. I nodded, and he murmured a quick “okay” before leaving me alone, closing the door softly behind him.

I laid back, my head resting softly against the pillow as I stared up at the ceiling. It was my second night back, the first time I had tried to sleep since hell. The memories from the dreaded night were slowly coming back to me, and even though I knew she was alive, I still felt the pain of when she died.

The bastard that killed Jane got what he deserved. He was an unrecognizable pile of flesh when I was finished with him. I had packed Jane up into the car, laying her carefully on the backseat before looking at a map, knowing exactly where I would go.

The demon had given me a year, my track record of killing them on top of being Dean Winchester’s girlfriend made the time change from the usual ten years. She had said it was almost poetic, receiving the same amount of time for selling my soul for my sibling as Dean did.

I hadn’t regretted it. Jane deserved to live more than I did, and I couldn’t imagine a world without her smile in it. She touched everyone around her, instantly filling someone’s day with light. Whereas I, on the other hand, was full of dark thoughts and anxiety. I wouldn’t be missed as much as her. And I couldn’t let her die. Knowing I would never hear her laugh or see her smile killed me.

So I made a deal. She knew I did something as soon as she woke up. She wasn’t stupid. She was furious with me for a long time, but I didn’t regret it once. Eventually, she understood, and we shed a lot of tears for a while, until I wouldn’t let her cry over me anymore.

Dean didn’t speak to me for weeks after I told him. It nearly killed me then and there. He was the only man I had ever loved. I hadn’t had many chances, anyway. He was my first real relationship, and I had fallen hard and fast. I was only twenty-two, and he was nine years my senior. Our relationship had been viewed as taboo from many people around us, but we couldn’t be bothered with that.

When he finally came back to me, we didn’t leave his bedroom for a good three days. We’d talk and make love, or simply lay with each other, basking in each other’s presence. I’d only seen him cry twice before, but he cried a great deal over those few days.

When the year was up, the bunker was quiet. Dean never left my side, and his hand never left mine. The thought of leaving him behind was absolute torture, and it made it worse when he frantically searched the books for a way out.

“There has to be something, dammit! Those old pricks had to have found a way!” Dean yelled, throwing yet another book across the room. I jumped as it collided with a lamp, both clattering to the ground, the bulb in the lamp shattering.

“Dean, please!” I said, taking his hands in mine. He shook me off, riffling through the bookshelves. “Dean!”

“No! I won’t give up! There has to be away out of this,” he said. “There has to be.”

He frantically flipped through book after book, simply dropping them to the ground when he was finished. “Stop it!”

He froze as my voice pierced his ears, and he turned to look at me.

“You’ll drive yourself insane! There is no way out of this that will end with both me and Jane alive.” He shook his head. “I can hear them, Dean.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

I swallowed thickly. “You know what. You went through it, and it means it’s almost time.”

He shook his head again, lip wobbling as he walked forward, hands cupping my face. “No, no, no. We need more time… I can fix this, I can-”

I silenced him with my lips, eyes fluttering closed as I surrounded myself with him one last time.

“Do me a favour, Dean,” I whispered. “Stop looking. Stop beating yourself up over this. Just know I love you.”

And not ten minutes later, I had walked up the stairs and out the front door of the bunker, sinking to my knees a few hundred feet away, embracing death with open arms, knowing that my sister was sleeping soundly inside.

I woke up buried in a coffin five years later.

I climbed my way out, finding myself in the field a little way behind the bunker. It was my favorite spot, mostly because it was where Dean and I proclaimed our love for each other. It turned into our little space, and I nearly dropped to my knees knowing that’s where he wanted to bury me.

After waking up, the world around me was calming. The field was a brilliant green, the grass taller than I remembered, and more wildflowers had sprouted. Kansas wasn’t known for their many trees, but the big oak that Dean and I would lay under was as great as ever, the leaves rustling in the soft wind. Memories haunted the grounds of the field, replaying the smiles and blushes and gentle caresses that I desperately tried to hang on to in hell.

But they were just that; a memory. A simple thought blown away by the breeze that no longer carried the life and love that once thrived there.

Dean tried to kill me when he saw me. He thought I was a shifter, or a demon. But Sam did the tests after calming him down, he too realized it was me. Sam welcomed me back with wide open arms, arms that I had to talk myself into walking into, and a few tears, but Dean barely said a word, his jaw clenched the whole time and arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he was blocking his heart. When I tried to touch him, he backed away, turning to walk down the hall without a word.

I jumped when I heard his door slam from deep inside the bunker.

So here I was, heart and spirit broken as I lay awake in my old bedroom, obviously not welcomed in Dean’s. Jane was out on a hunt with a friend, apparently. Sam had filled me in on what had happened within the years I was gone.

It killed me that Dean was so sour towards me. It made me realize that he must hate me for leaving, and that he had fallen out of love with me. I wondered if he found someone new. And although I knew he probably would, it still hurt all the same.

It wasn’t my place to feel that way anymore, though.

His reaction was odd, and the insecurities and self doubt that I had when Dean and I first got together began to creep into my mind. I never thought he’d give me the light of day, let alone be with me. And once we were together, it was hard to believe him when he said he wanted to. I couldn’t come up with a reason as to why, but he’d constantly remind me of the multiple reasons why he was, and somehow it would be okay. Eventually, those insecurities faded, but now, I wondered if what he said was really true, or if he simply told me what I wanted to hear.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, so I turned onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut to try and will the tears away.

***

The next day, I didn’t see Dean at all.

Sam caught me up on Game of Thrones and watched the latest Marvel movies I had missed. But he could tell I was missing Dean. And he could tell I was lying about being okay.

Whenever he’d come near me, I’d flinch. I could no longer be touched, and I stuttered more, something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

But he didn’t prod. He let me be, and didn’t say anything when he caught me pouring a good amount of Dean’s whiskey into my coffee; or when I drank straight from the bottle at lunch. He didn’t prod when he realized I wasn’t going to bed for the night, leaving me at the library table with Dean’s whiskey and a glass of ice.

Everytime I close my eyes, flashes from hell would replay; the pain and fear I felt for so long bottling up inside my head with nowhere to go. It was five years Earth time, but six-hundred for me, and not once within those six-hundred years did the torture let up.

The bunker door opened around two in the morning, and Dean stumbled in. I watched as he ignored my presence, making his way to the liquor cabinet. I swallowed thickly as I realized he was looking for his whiskey.

He looked over his shoulder, grumbling under his breath as he stalked towards me, eyes hard as he looked down at me.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“Sorry,” I murmured. He glanced down at the bottle, lip twitching as he saw it was nearly empty.

“You just assume it’s okay to take something that doesn’t belong to you?” He asked, snatching the bottle from the table. He took a drink from it.

“Well I… I just saw it and…” I furrowed my brows as his stare never relented. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You’d share your stash with me all the time.”

“That was when we were together,” he snarled. He slammed the bottle down onto the wood, making me flinch.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking away from him. Tears pricked my eyes, and I bit my lip trying to keep them down. I couldn’t cry. Not now. Just knowing that he didn’t want to try to be together again made my heart clench painfully in my chest.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re never sorry. You never were. And you’re not now. You’re back, and you think you just own the place again.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You and Sam are pals. You’re in my flannel-” I glanced down at the shirt I stole from the laundry room- “And you drink my fucking whiskey.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” He yelled. I jumped, an unwelcomed whimper slipping past my lips. “You don’t mean to do anything! Why the fuck are you alive?”

Ouch.

A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped it away, hoping he didn’t see it. But he did, and his face softened for a moment.

“I’m sorry that me being alive and out of hell has ruined your life so much,” I whispered, getting up to leave.

“Princess…”

I flinched at that, my body tensing up as memories flashed through my head. That nickname from Dean had been turned and used against me in hell. Amel, the demon who had taken me as his own toy, had began to call me that once he realized Dean did.

I vaguely heard him saying my name, and I gasped as his hand landed on my shoulder. I stumbled back, tripping over the leg of the chair and falling onto my ass. I trembled violently, my breaths coming in gasping gulps as I tried to catch it.

Dean lowered slowly down in front of me, shushing me.

“Hey, hey you’re safe,” he said quietly. I shook my head, scooting back away from him. My body shook with panic, and I frantically tried to catch my breath. “Y/N, hey. Look at me.”

“No, I-I can’t,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You can. Give me your hands princ- Y/N,” he said quietly. I didn’t move, and he didn’t push me to. He waited until I reluctantly placed my hands in his. They were rougher than I remembered, but still soft; his touch gentle, his fingers caressing my skin slowly. “Match by breathing. That’s it.”

I took a breath with each one he did, trying to calm down. That nickname registered pain that I tried to push away. I should have known it would be too hard to do.

His face was somber, and I allowed myself a good look at it. He had aged well, looking the same other than a few more lines here and there and a more defined face. The crinkles around his eyes had deepened with the years, but his green orbs were the same. They still held that slight sliver of hope that he rarely believed in, and still held the pain. But there was something else, a look I had missed more than anything.

He placed a hand on my cheek for a moment, not missing when I tensed up. His eyes bored into mine, but he pulled away after only a few seconds, standing without a word and walking out of the room, grabbing the whiskey on the way out.

***

“There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you,” his voice whispered in my ear. The sun shone brightly through the clouds, warming the air and the grass around us. My fingers ran through the blades of green, eyes trained on the opposite side of the field as Dean’s fingers gently moved my hair back from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You know that.”

I sighed, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I looked up at him, glancing down to his lips for a moment. “I don’t.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek as he gazed lovingly at me. A small smile danced on his lips, and his thumb brushed against my skin. “You do. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re soulmates,” I whispered, looking down at the silly title I came up with months ago. ‘Boyfriend and Girlfriend `` wasn’t strong enough, and I had felt it the day we met that we were meant to be. He hummed.

“And you will always be my love,” he said quietly. “There is nothing, nothing, that could ever change that.”

“You’ll move on,” I said sadly, a tear falling from my eye. “You’ll find someone else. As you should. You deserve to be happy but I-”

“Even if I do, I will never feel for them like I do for you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hey. Look at me.”

I hesitated, obliging and meeting his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe away my tears, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

“Hey. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, forehead resting against mine. “Always have.”

“Always will,” I finished, my hand coming to rest against the side of his neck. And for the first time since making the deal, I felt okay.

***

I pushed myself up off the floor, steadying myself against the wall as the memory flashed behind my eyelids. Righting myself, I furrowed my brows and followed after Dean, my shorter legs moving faster to catch up to him.

I turned down the hall, spotting him almost to his door. Swallowing thickly, I raised enough courage to say what I wanted to.

“Hey!” I called, voice shakier than I would have liked. Dean stopped, his head turning slightly at the sound of my voice. I swallowed again. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” I saw him stiffen, and I watched as his jaw clenched. He looked down, a sigh heaving through him. “Always have.”

I waited for him to finish it. I waited for a sliver of something to hold on to that told me he still loved me. I just wanted to hear the words.

Always will.

But he stayed silent. He turned his head back, and walked the rest of the way to his bedroom door, not sparing another glance at me as he slammed it behind him.

A choked sob slipped past my lips, and I found myself stumbling down the hall to my room as I did my best to keep my cries silent.

The pain I felt was worse than anything I had endured in hell. It felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest and crushed beneath his boot. I felt as though there was nothing left for me to fight for.

Except Jane.

She was coming home tomorrow. I would see her. Alive. And I couldn’t wait.

***

His laughs echoed off the cobblestone walls. The telltale sound of his boots clacking against the floors made me itch, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt his fingertips trail along my bare back.

“Look at you,” he hissed, his breath stinking of blood and decaying flesh. He slipped a forked tongue from his mouth, running it along my cheek before his hand came up to cup my breast. I flinched, trying to shrink away, but he simply squeezed harder. “What shall we do today?”

It had been two-hundred hell years. I had been burned, beaten, whipped, abused and assaulted to the point that I had given up fighting. I had been taken off the rack years ago, moved to Amel’s personal quarters.

I heard the crack of a whip, and the crackling of the flames. I tasted the blood with each lash, felt the searing with each burn, and I felt my ribs crack with each blow with a fist.

And finally, after what I thought couldn’t get any worse, I heard his belt jingle, and his hands grip my waist, and it took everything in me not to vomit then and there.

***

Hands were on me.

Strong ones.

Firm ones.

On my arms and the side of my face.

I lashed out blindly, making contact with flesh. The assaulter grunted, and I scampered away, falling off the bed and into a heap of blankets on the floor.

“Jesus! Y/N, it’s just me!” Sam said, his hand pressing against the nostrils of his bloody nose. “You were having another nightmare.”

“Oh, I- Sam, I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, no, it’s… it’s okay. Nice hit,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips. I cleared my throat, picking up the blankets and sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.

“No, it’s okay. Look, I understand. If you ever need to talk-

“I don’t need to,” I said quickly.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “But if you do need to-”

“I won’t.” I cut him off again. “I just- I’m just tired. Can I go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course. Good night, Y/N.”

The door closed behind him, and I collapsed back on the bed, my breathing shaky as I tried to catch it. I didn’t want to close my eyes in fear I would see another memory. I couldn’t bare to be back there, to feel the pain and the crippling fear. I could taste the bile in my mouth at the memory of the feel of his hands on me, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

Sleep would have to wait.

***

Jane was coming back today.

I couldn’t begin to describe my excitement. She didn’t know I came back. Dean seemed to be even more on edge, which confused me more. It still stung to know that he didn’t love me anymore. That he didn’t care.

It had been almost a week since I returned. Each night was plagued with a different nightmare, eventually the mere thought of sleep making my stomach roll. Within that week, Dean had avoided me, and each day turned a little worse.

Sam was walking on eggshells around me, always scared about sneaking up on me or making too much noise. I was skittish, and he was trying to be careful, which I was thankful for. But the excessive worrying became a little much.

I heard the bunker door close in the distance, and my heart fluttered with excitement. I would be seeing my little sister again. Technically she was now older than me, but she would forever be my baby sister.

I jogged out into the library with a wide smile on my face, the first real smile I had since getting topside, not being able to contain the joy. I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye, a low gasp slipping past his lips.

My smile fell as I saw the scene in front of me.

Jane’s lips were pressed firmly against Dean’s, her arms wrapped around his neck. I placed a hand on my stomach as it jumped to my throat. It all made sense now. Why Dean had been the way he was towards me, and why Sam had been so cautious.

A pained whimper sounded from me unannounced, and the two broke apart, Jane’s hazel eyes meeting mine. They widened, mouth dropping open as she took me in.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, walking up the steps into the library. Dean avoided eye contact with me, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

“She’s back, Jane,” Sam murmured, looking down as well. I felt as though my heart had finally destroyed, this being the last stab to an already broken heart. “It’s really her.”

My sister lunged forward, her arms wrapping tightly around me as she laid her head on my chest, ear pressed against it as she listened to my heartbeat. She let out a sound of joy, rearing back to look me in the eyes, tears swimming in hers.

“I never thought I’d see you again!”

“Here I am,” I whispered, my excitement gone. Her smile faltered, guilt quickly over taking her features.

“Look, Y/N… I-”

“I don’t really want to hear it,” I said, breaking away from her. I closed my eyes and shook my head, clearing my throat as a single tear fell. “I can’t- I can’t deal with this right now.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Dean finally made his way up into the library, his emerald eyes scanning my face.

“Look, I wanted to tell you but… you had just gotten back from hell after five years, and I don’t even know how long that is in hell time. I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly.

“So you decided to keep it from me?” I asked angrily. “Because quite frankly, walking in on my sister and the man I love shoving their tongues down each other’s throats hurts a lot more than you just telling the truth.”

“Look, I know this must hurt,” Jane said. I scoffed. “But you gotta understand, we didn’t think you were coming back.”

“When did this start?”

“Few years ago,” Dean muttered.

“When?” I pushed.

They glanced at each other. “About a week after you died.”

Dead. I was dead.

It finally killed me.

“What?” I choked. “Dean did you… did you ever love me?”

“Of course I did,” he said quietly. “I just… I had eyes on Jane, too.”

“You what?” I whispered, vision blurry from tears. “When we were together?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I… I can’t deal with this right now,” I muttered, turning and taking off down the hall. My body surged with anger and hurt, Dean’s words bouncing around the inside of my skull. I was shocked. Shocked that it had taken them a mere week to get over me and begin seeing each other.

But truthfully, should I have been so surprised?

My whole life, I had been the outsider. I was the other sister. I was the other one who hunted with the Winchesters. I was the one who was invisible, so easily forgotten that people I had met a dozen times would look right through me with no recollection as to who I was. It was always Jane; Jane, Sam and Dean, the hunter trio that took on the world’s monsters. The trio with an angel friend and a debt that needed repaying by the King of Hell.

And then me. The one who was seemingly always in the background. The one left behind on celebratory toasts and claps on the back. The one who was never noticed missing until it was too late. I was always someone's second choice, never the one someone thought of first or wanted first.

The one who was forgotten, the one who was given up on one too many times to count.

I locked my bedroom door, a heart-wrenching sob coming from deep within my chest as it all settled in. I always assumed Dean would find someone new, I had hoped. I just wanted him happy. But once I saw no one else in the bunker, I thought he was single. That maybe we could pick up where we left off. But no, he was with my sister, and had been since I died.

He had wanted her when I was still alive and sharing his bed.

I curled up into a ball on my bed, tears staining the pillow case, knuckles turning white with how tightly I was gripping the blanket. My cries echoed off the walls of my room, and I didn’t care who heard me. I was hurting too much to care.

At this point, I would have rather been dead. If I couldn’t come back to Dean, or to my sister, what else could I do? I could never look at them the same again. Knowing they were together in that way was much too painful to suppress.

I was tired, but I couldn't go to sleep. With sleep came the nightmares, ones of my time in hell that I couldn’t bare to relive. I was scared of what played behind my eyes when they closed. So the simple solution to that, would be to keep them open.

I heard a knock on my door about an hour after I left the library. I ignored it, a few more knocks following a few moments after. Whoever it was, didn’t pry, and I heard the retreating footsteps after a little while.

Knowing Dean had began to have feelings for Jane while we were still together was heartbreaking. My own sister. The one I sold my soul for, only needed a few days to fall into bed with the love of my life. That’s what stung; is that I’d have to live with the fact that he would choose my sister over me, just like everyone else in my life.

***

I was exhausted the next morning. My eyes were heavy and I struggled to keep them open, knowing I’d need lots of caffeine just to get to noon. But I’d gladly put up with the tiredness if it meant not having the nightmares.

I shuffled to the kitchen, doing my best to stay out of sight. But of course, both Dean and Jane were in the kitchen, low whispers being heard from outside the doorway.

I took a deep breath before entering, their conversation coming to a halt. They both watched as I took a cup, pouring a generous amount of coffee into it before setting it on the table, turning and reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a bottle of rum.

I poured a few cap fulls of the alcohol into the black liquid, ignoring the stares from my sister and my ex.

“Don’t worry. It’s not because of you two,” Sam said, looking away from the staring eyes. “She does this every morning.”

“Why?” Jane asked.

Dean let out a breath. “She spent five years in hell,” he murmured. “It does shit to you.”

I sipped the coffee, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait!” I heard Dean say. I ignored him, heading back to my room. I heard him follow me anyway, and I tried my best to hold my tongue. “Y/N, please.”

He grabbed my arm unexpectedly, causing me to jump, making me drop the mug to the ground. It shattered at my feet, the burning liquid splashing against my ankles as I fell back against the wall.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, holding his hands up. Sam and Jane ran out into the hall.

“What happened?” Sam asked, worried eyes trained on me, Jane’s trained on Dean.

“I just… I grabbed her and I scared her,” Dean answered. “I didn’t mean to.”

I trembled, backing up slightly. Which proved to be a mistake when I stepped onto a piece of the ceramic, a yelp bouncing off my tongue. I tripped backwards, falling onto my ass and flinching away from Dean when he tried to catch me.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me!” I said, scooting back away from him. I reached down and ripped the ceramic from my skin, a gush of blood oozing down onto the tile. I used the wall for support as I got to my feet, wincing when I tried to put weight down onto my hurt foot. “Just fuck off.”

“Let me help you back to your room,” Dean said, moving towards me again.

I took a few steps back. “No. Leave me alone.”

“But your foot-”

“I’ve had worse, Dean,” I said, throwing him one last glance before turning around.

I collapsed onto my bed when I got back to my room, thinking back to a simpler time. A time where I could turn to Dean and cup his cheek or hold his hand, where I could curl into him at night.

I let out a frustrated growl, looking down at my foot in the light of the nightstand lamp. I gently picked out a few stray pieces of ceramic, wincing only slightly as they ripped through my skin each time I tugged on one.

The only thing that kept me going when I was in hell was the thought of Dean. The only thing that kept me from ending it completely after I was topside, was Dean. The thought of seeing him again gave me enough willpower to fight through the nightmares and the memories. For a long time, he was the oxygen to my flame. He kept me going, kept me from ending it all; even before hell. And the mere thought of him brought me back to life, the thought of being in the arms of the one I called mine was more than enough to fight for.

But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t call him mine, and I couldn’t fall into his arms. I couldn’t curl into his body at night, seeking the comfort I so desperately craved. I couldn’t kiss him, or trail my fingers along his skin as I traced the freckles along his cheeks. Instead, it was my sister doing those things, the one person who I was sure I loved before Dean came along. She was my best friend, my other half, the one I sold my soul for. And she had intertwined herself into Dean mere weeks after my death.

***

“Hey,” Dean whispered. My eyes fluttered open, squinting, trying to focus on him in the dark. A lazy smile was pointed towards me, his hand softly pressed against my cheek. I smiled back, letting a sigh of content fill the space between us as my E/C eyes met his emerald ones. “I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, one to my forehead, and finally my lips, whispering one last “love you” before tucking me into his side, his chin resting on my head as he brought the sheet up over our bare bodies.

***

A knock sounded on my door, and I wiped away the tears, sniffling and opening the first aid kit.

“Y/N?” The soprano voice said gently. I sighed, picking up the alcohol pad and needle.

Jane opened the door, stepping inside silently. She stood there for a moment, watching as I prepped the needle. She then bit her lip, closing the door and making her way towards me, sitting gently on the bed beside me.

“Hey,” she murmured, hazel eyes trained on me. I pierced the needle through my skin, lip twitching at the sting, but staying relatively still. I weaved the needle in and out, sewing my skin back together.

If only it were that easy to do to a broken heart.

“Look,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but… I care about him. A lot. And… and I know that he was yours and I know you love him. And I’m sorry. I just never thought you were coming back.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear this.” I set the needle down after tying off the thread, lathering the wound in neosporin and covering it with liquid bandage. I ripped open the gauze packet.

“Y/N, I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I am. But, I’m not going to back away just because you’re back,” she said. I stopped what I was doing, head lifting to narrow my eyes at her. She nearly flinched at the cold look.

“Did I ask you to do that?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that I just… I know you still love him but he and I are together now,” she said.

I focused back on wrapping the gauze around my foot. “Do you love him?”

She opened her mouth, closing it not a second later. I heard her sigh, watched from my peripheral vision as she clasped her hands together.

“I… I care about him. Very much,” she said quietly.

“But do you love him?” I repeated, placing a small piece of tape on the gauze to keep it together, grabbing the wrap next. I looked up at her. “Do you love him, Jane?”

She bit her lip again, looking down at her lap before shaking her head.

I scoffed, unwinding the wrap. “Look, Jane. I love you. You’re the only person in the world that I truly know I love. I would do anything for you.”

“You have,” she interrupted.

“And I know that I’ve made mistakes in the past. But I would never- never- be with someone you were in love with after you were gone. Because even if you weren’t here, I would never be able to do that to you,” I said, finishing bandaging my foot. I put everything away in the kit, clasping it back up.

“And that’s what makes this so much worse,” she whispered, wiping a tear. “Because I know that you never would have done this to me. And I feel horrible. But I can’t give him up.”

“He doesn’t love me anymore, Jane,” I muttered. “It’s not like he’d let you go so easily.”

“What are you talking about? Of course he still loves you,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, he doesn’t. You should see the way he acts towards me, and if he was able to get over me so fast…”

“Get over you?” She asked. “He isn’t over you.”

“How can you say that?” I said.

“He still says your name,” she said quietly. “In his sleep. He’ll say how he misses you… how he loves you. It hurts but… I know that he can never love me like he did you. And it’s not fair to want that from him when I don’t love him back.”

“He doesn’t love me, Jane,” I said harshly. “He said he had feelings for you when we were together, and it took him a week to get over me.” I sighed, rubbing the base of my palm against the bridge of my nose. “I’ve never had great luck with guys. Dean… he’s the love of my life, but I knew he was going to move on. I urged him to. I just didn’t know I would be coming back to him and my sister, and I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered.

“I don’t think I’d be able to be… intimate with him anyway,” I murmured.

“Why not?” She asked.

I swallowed the bile in the back of my throat, closing my eyes. Memories replayed through my mind; memories that sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl. I turned my head away from her, biting my lip. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I heard her breath hitch in her throat as she put two and two together. “Y/N I’m-”

“Don’t. Please… don’t,” I said.

She sighed. “He’d understand something like that. That sorta thing isn’t everything to him.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t be able to provide that and I don’t think he’s going to want to spend the rest of his life never having sex again,” I said. “Besides, he’s with you. I’m not going to have to worry about that anyway.”

“He loves you, Y/N,” she said. “You. Not me. He cares for me and I know that it sucks he started feeling something for me when the two of you were together but… it never grew into something like the two of you had. I’m telling you, I can tell. He talks about you in his sleep, but he avoids the topic of you when he’s awake. I can tell it hurts him too much to talk about. And he keeps a picture of you in his wallet and in the glove compartment in the Impala.”

“What?” I said, surprised. “He does?”

“I’ll catch him looking at it sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking. I’ll be in bed sometimes and I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. But he’s in the library, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and your picture in the other,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Her hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Why are you apologizing? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. When someone has feelings as strong as he had for you, they don’t just go away.”

I stared at her for a moment, heart clenching in my chest at her words. I wasn’t sure if I should believe her. His actions had shown otherwise, but she never had given me any reason to not believe her.

“Why can’t you let him go?” I asked, looking away again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think… I think because when you were gone, he was the closest thing I had to you. You two were so in sync and he loved you so much… I dunno. I guess it made me feel closer to you when you were gone.”

“Well I’m here now,” I said.

“You’re here now.” She smiled smally, swallowing thickly. “It’s my fault you were gone in the first place.”

I shook my head, brows furrowing as I took her hands in mine. “No, don’t say that.” I bent my head a little, meeting her downcasted eyes. They were watery, and her face was written with guilt. “I would rather spend a million lifetimes in hell than let you die.”

I hugged her, bringing her head to my shoulder like I did when she was young. She smelled the same, her hair cut to right above her shoulders like she always liked. She was more slender, but she was Jane.

“I missed you, big sis,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter.

“You have no idea, little duck,” I said. “No idea.”

***

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, but the mere thought of sleep made my chest tighten with fear. I was emotional after the talk with Jane. If what she said was true, I was torn. I couldn’t just sit back and watch the love of my life and my sister be together. I wanted to leave, I needed to leave, in order to keep my own sanity. But then again, it would hurt too much to leave the bunker. I wouldn’t get to see Dean anymore, even if I didn’t see him much anyway. And Jane wouldn’t be with me, and I couldn’t protect her.

A small voice in the back of my mind, one that sounded eerily close to the demon of my nightmare, told me they didn’t want me here. They hadn’t looked for a way to get me out of hell. Dean moved on all too quickly. And he and Jane were together.

Maybe they were sneaking around behind your back, the voice hissed. Maybe they just couldn’t wait until you were gone so they didn’t have to hide anymore.

I bit my lip, letting out an angry breath. Even separated by different worlds, Amel found a way to get to me.

I fell back onto my bed, groaning as a knock on my door echoed through the room.

“Come in,” I said without sitting up. The door creaked on its old hinges, a face poking into the room.

“Hey,” Sam said. “There’s a hunt not too far from here. I don’t know if you’d be up for it… probably not but I thought I’d offer just in case.”

I looked over at him. “Uhm… I dunno, Sam. I don’t know if I want to throw myself back into it quite yet. I’m out of practice. I’d slow you down.”

“You could just tag along,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to hunt if you didn’t want to. You could research, take notes. If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”

“Jane and Dean are going too?” I asked quietly. Sam swallowed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s better if I stay here,” I muttered. Sam sighed.

“You can’t avoid the two of them forever,” he said.

“I’m not avoiding Jane. Just Dean,” I told him. He scoffed.

“Right. Look, I can stay if you want. Or one of them can. Hell, I could call Cas, see if he wants to head down here for a little while,” Sam offered.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden or hold anyone back. I’m a big girl, Sam. I’ll be okay,” I said.

He sighed again. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few days, Y/N.”

I nodded, looking back up at the ceiling as he closed the door, once again bathing me in the silent darkness of the room.

***

The bunker was eerily quiet without any other occupants.

It seemed as though every little thing made me jump, and I always felt as though I was being watched, when I knew that was impossible inside the bunker. I was jittery from the pot of coffee I had, needing something to fuel me enough to keep me from falling asleep.

Boredom soon overcame me, and I found myself roaming the bunker halls, turning down corridors I forgot about and relishing in the cool feel of my home again. I hated the fact that I might have to leave. But the sight of Jane and Dean would be too painful to see each day.

Selfish, the voice whispered. You’re sister is happy. Dean is happy. They’re happier without you. Stop moping and get out.

I bit my lip, taking a deep breath at the words. I felt as though I was doing a disservice by being alive. Everyone had been walking on eggshells since I got back, and Jane and Dean had been so awkward around each other and me, and I could tell that they weren’t anything like that before I showed up.

A clang echoed around me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around, the sound coming from the front of the bunker. I glanced around, reaching into a room and pulling out the first hard thing I could find; which just so happened to be a broken lamp.

I rolled my eyes, holding it up like a bat before quietly making my way through the halls and into the front of the bunker.

Stopping before the entrance to the library, I peered my head around, eyes scanning the room. I sighed in relief at the sight of a familiar duffel bag on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jumped at the voice, lamp coming back up as a weapon. My eyes flashed to Dean’s, an amused look on his face.

“I… I heard a bang in here,” I said, lowering the lamp. “I came to check it out.”

“With a lamp?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

I shrugged. “I found it. That’s not the point.” I set the broken thing down, scrunching up my face. “Why are you back?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his skin. “Well, uh… I got worried. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why didn’t Sam come back? Or Jane?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Jane was the one who pushed me to come back, actually,” Dean answered. “Said we need to ‘reconnect’ or some shit.”

“Ah, I see,” I murmured. “Well, it was a waste of time. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean said. “I can tell.”

“Really?” I deadpanned.

“Yes, really,” he said exasperatedly. “In case you don’t know, I know you better than anyone.”

“Yeah, not anymore,” I said. He sighed.

“When was the last time you ate? You looked like you’ve lost weight.”

I shrugged again. “‘M not hungry.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

I hesitated. “I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit,” Dean growled. “I can see your dark circles and your eyes get all twitchy when you don’t get enough sleep. Why don’t you go sleep and I’ll go out a pick up food?”

He turned to leave, picking up his keys.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to sleep.”

He stopped. “Why not?”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of telling him. There was a time where I would tell him absolutely everything. And how I yearned to pour myself to him again, to watch his eyes bore into mine and his hand grasp mine in comfort. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t burden someone else with my constant thoughts, or share the nightmares I experienced on the daily, even when I wasn’t asleep.

His brows furrowed as he watched the wheels turn in my head, how my eyes went out of focus and shoulders slump. I snapped myself out of it and shook my head.

“Because I’m not, okay?” I said. “I’m not tired.”

He sighed, knowing damn well that was a lie. He shrugged, rubbing his forehead and dropping the keys back onto the table.

“Okay. Fine,” he grunted. He walked past me, bumping his shoulder harshly into mine, causing me to flinch. “Why even try.”

I closed my eyes as his footsteps progressively faded away.

***

It was midnight, and currently day three with no sleep. My body was drained, physically and emotionally, and I felt like I might collapse at any moment. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since before hell, the banana the only thing I ate in three days. But honestly, the mere thought of food made my stomach roll.

I paced back and forth, not allowing myself to rest because I knew I’d fall asleep, and the absolute terror that came with that idea kept me from doing so.

I hadn’t seen Dean for the rest of the night after our encounter. But to be honest, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him. He always seemed angry with me, and I didn’t have the energy to be bothered with it.

I wasn’t sure what the appeal of being alive was anymore. I felt utterly alone, and with the memories constantly surging through my head, I felt as though I was living my own personal hell all over again.

***

“I will never get tired of this,” Amel said, patting my hip. I winced, biting my lip as a sear of pain flashed through my side.

The chains that held me up rattled as he yanked my head back by my hair, eliciting a yelp from my throat as he snarled at my ear.

“Beg.”

“No,” I said through my teeth. His forehead dropped to my blood crusted shoulder, a frustrated groan grumbling deep from his chest. He yanked my hair again, a squeal echoing off the walls before he let go, sending the blade that was in his hand flying across the room to clatter against the stained cobblestone.

“Why must you be so insolent?” He yelled, hand gripping my chin. “I have given you every opportunity. Beg. Let me be your master and I can train you into the perfect pet. Your pretty skin won’t be marred and I won’t be so angry.”

“Go to hell,” I seethed, conjuring up all the blood and saliva I could, spitting it into his eye.

He winced, lip curling into a ferocious snarl. He let go of me roughly, swiping an iron rod from the table beside him. Gripping the loose fitting tank top I wore, he pulled me close to him, chains groaning as he brought his arm back, ramming the rod through my abdomen with one, strong thrust of his arm, his hand curling around my throat as he did so.

I cried out, and it spurred him on. He laughed as he twisted the iron, blood coated teeth and feral eyes searing into my brain as he dug his nails into my neck.

***

I only realized I was crying when the pads of two thumbs swiped gently across my cheeks. I was sitting in the corner of the room, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from me as flashbacks danced in front of my eyes.

But a pair of green orbs came into focus, and I watched as he carefully unravelled my balled fists, bringing my palms up to his lips. He pressed soft kisses to each crescent shaped mark left on my skin from my nails, not caring if they were beginning to bleed or not. He eased away the pain with his lips, taking his time to softly brush against each one, barely putting any pressure.

He then kissed both of my wrists, where I once had ugly scars, scars that he, too, kissed under the moonlight and in the safety of our room. But that was simply a memory, one that was brushed away and erased much like the scars on my arms. And as Dean gently pulled my hand to rest against his cheek, it was those memories that flashed before my eyes, not the ones of hell. Memories of smiles and stolen kisses. Memories of soft caresses and long night talks.

Memories that were brushed away, too.

I couldn’t stop him when he leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine. I couldn’t stop him when his hands came up to cup my cheeks. And I couldn’t stop him when he pulled away for a moment, simply to aim a little lower, just enough to press his lips ever so softly against mine.

Suddenly I was wisped away, carried up into the sky by everything Dean. I was surrounded by him; his touch, his smell, his lips. My body reacted in a way of a relapsing addict, and I didn’t think twice before I wrapped my arms around his neck. The thought didn’t occur to me that he was no longer mine, that he was with my sister. No, all I could think of were the times before; before hell, before the deal, before I made a shit show of things and fucked it all up.

If only I had listened, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Jane wouldn’t have died, I wouldn’t have sold my soul and gone to hell, and he wouldn’t have gotten with my sister.

Or maybe he would, the voice said. He said it himself, he had feelings for her well before you bit the dust.

No, I thought. He couldn’t have. The mere thought of that sent me down a path of crippling pain.

But he did, he said. Why wouldn’t he? Jane is so much better than you. Anyone would be better than you.

What the hell was I doing? I was so wrapped up in my own fantasy of Dean, that I hadn’t thought to push him away. I was betraying Jane.

I pulled back, shoving his chest. He fell backwards onto his ass, confusion flashing onto his face.

“What the hell? What’s wrong?” He asked, his tongue running out over his swollen lips.

“What’s wrong?” I scoffed. “What’s wrong is that you’re with my sister now. Not only that, but you’ve acted like I was a parasite since I got back, and you blatantly admitted that you didn’t want me back. Now you come in here, wiping away my tears and-and kissing me?”

“I didn’t see you complaining,” he shot back.

I stood up, and he copied my actions. I didn’t look him in the eyes, but I stood tall, keeping my ground.

“Because I love you, you moron! Of course I wouldn’t fucking complain!” I yelled. “But you are dating my sister!”

I finally looked up at him, just to see him roll his eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“Jesus, you’re acting like a child!”

“I’m acting like a child?” I asked. “Oh, that’s rich, especially coming from you. Make up your damn mind, Dean. Because you’re the one who decided to go have feelings for my own sister while we were still together, and then began shacking up with her not a week after I died-”

“-Hey, you said that I should-”

“-And then proceeded to treat me like absolute shit ever since I got back, and then come in here and kiss me like everything is fine. So don’t tell me that I’m the one acting like a child, Dean Winchester. I have been the most mature out of all of us, because at least I’m not the one keeping shit from the others.”

“Oh really?” He said. “Then why the fuck aren’t you sleeping? Huh? Because you’re keeping that from me.”

“Because it’s none of your damn business!” I shot at him.

“Well it’s none of your business if I decided I want to fuck your sister!”

I took a step back, mouth gaping as my eyes grew wide. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, the echo of his outburst still bouncing around in my head.

I took a deep breath, snapping my mouth shut. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he snarled. He spun around, stalking towards the door. “Don’t think I don’t know what you probably did to get off the rack. I have no doubt in my mind that you were some demon’s whore. And knowing you, you probably fucking liked it. That’s why you’re so messed in the head now.”

I gasped, a tear trailing down my cheek at his words. It was pure venom shot at me; salt in an open wound.

“You have no idea what happened when I was in hell. But that is the farthest thing from the truth, Winchester, and you know it.”

He scoffed, a dark smirk on his face. “Yeah, real likely, princess.”

He gave me one more look before slamming the door behind him, leaving me to slump to the ground and curl up on the cool floor, because at this point, I was at a loss for words, completely and utterly drained.

***

The next three days were spent shrouded in the darkness of my room. It was one of the few with a bathroom, so there was no reason to risk bumping into Dean. He hadn’t tried to come and apologize the next day, nor did he try to talk to me at all. It was radio silent.

Sleep had tried to take me, but there were things I would do to keep it from doing so. I’d splash water on my face, pace back and forth. I’d do anything if it meant I didn’t have to relive hell.

I barely registered the bunker’s door loudly creaking as it opened and closed after a few days, two sets of footsteps echoing down the stairs, my sister’s cheerful voice ringing in my ears.

The mere sound caused tears to spring to my eyes.

When had things become so messy? Why couldn’t I have just left it? I could’ve left the bunker, like I originally wanted to. I could’ve walked the other way when I got topside, ignoring the past completely. Or I could have just stayed dead.

Or I could die now.

I would be lying if it wasn’t on my mind a lot. With the constant flashbacks and pain from hell and the emotional stress from within the bunker, the weight on my shoulders was too much to handle. It was difficult, and the fact I didn’t have anyone to talk to made it all the more difficult.

“You said what?!” A screech could be heard from down the hall. I jumped, sitting up and turning to face my door. I heard murmurs echo and travel to my room, loud stomps sounding until a fist pounded at my door. “Y/N! Open this door or so help me, I will knock it down.”

I swallowed, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now, Jane.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” She said through the door. I head her hush someone, before she jiggled the door knob. “Y/N, open the door.”

“I really don’t want to,” I said. “I’m tired.”

“You haven’t slept for almost a week, Y/N. Don’t deny it, either. Just open the door. I need to talk to you,” Jane told me. I sighed, licking my lips and shaking my head.

“Jane… please. I can’t do this right now,” I said. “Just… leave, okay? We’ll talk later. I can’t… I can’t right now.”

I heard her grumble, a thud sounding as she must have kicked the door. “Dammit, Y/N… fine.”

“I told you,” Dean said. I got up from my bed, walking towards the door to listen. “She hasn’t left her room in three days.”

“Did you at least check on her and make sure she wasn’t dead?” Jane hissed.

Dean was silent, and I heard her scoff. “Room. Now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I heard him clear his throat, and their footsteps retreated down the hall, a door slamming a few minutes after. I rested my forehead against the wood, taking another deep breath to try and calm my nerves. Dean must have told her what had happened, and I wasn’t ready for a yelling match with my sister. I knew she would be pissed at me, and I can’t imagine what Dean must have told her.

I unlocked the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall quietly.

“Jesus, I thought I’d need to take the door off.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at Sam’s voice, his shadow falling over me. He rested a hand on my shoulder and looked me over.

“You look terrible.”

“Wow, Sam. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I deadpanned, looking up at him. He visibly winced at the sight of my dark circles and hollowed cheekbones.

“Jesus- Y/N, you’re killing yourself,” Sam said, brows furrowed in worry. “You need sleep. And food- something.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head, ignoring the dizziness that came with it. “I just need some water.”

“And calories and sleep,” Sam said. “I’m serious. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch you kill yourself.”

I heard a yell down the hall, and I shared a glance with Sam before taking off towards the sound of it, him hot on my heels.

“Have they been going at it since you guys got home?” I asked, stopping at room 11. Sam nodded.

“Pretty much. Dean told her what happened the other night and she flipped. She was freaking out about it, and marched to your room. She’s pretty pissed.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s all I need.”

“Huh?” Sam tilted his head. “What do you… Oh. Oh, no, Y/N… she’s not mad at you.”

“What? Why not?” I asked.

“Dean told her what happened. He told her he kissed you and told her what he said to you. He was feeling pretty guilty about the whole thing. I don’t think he anticipated this reaction from her. She’s pretty protective of you now, you know,” Sam said.

I shrugged. “She never was before. I think she just feels bad.”

“She’s your sister, Y/N. She’ll take care of you before him. She’ll put you first.”

“Heh, sure. Tell that to Jane seven years ago.”

Sam sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, because he had witnessed it first hand and knew I was right.

The door swung open, startling the two of us. Jane’s eyes locked on mine, and she rushed forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Dammit, Y/N. Look at you,” she muttered. She pulled back, looking at me. “Come on.”

“Where?” I asked, eyes flickering to Dean for a moment. He was looking anywhere but at me, and I bit my lip.

“I don’t know, somewhere where you can shower and then eat,” she said.

“Jane-”

“No, Y/N! I’m done watching you kill yourself,” she said harshly. “Now, let’s go.”

She took my hand, dragging me down the hall and to my room, leading me past my bed and into the bathroom. She pointed to the toilet seat.

“Sit.”

I obeyed, watching carefully as she started the bath. The silence scared me. She wasn’t letting on if she was angry at me, but the sour look on her face let me know that her mood wasn’t very pleasant. I waited for her to scold me, or to say anything, but she kept her mouth in a tight line, the running of the water the only sound in the room.

“Alright, come on,” she said, motioning to the tub. “In ‘ya get.”

I eyed her warily before undressing slowly, my limbs feeling like led after not being mobile for the last few days. I wasn’t entirely comfortable being naked in front of her. I wouldn’t have cared before, but I knew my bones were sticking out from under my skin and I knew how sickly I looked.

I lowered myself into the water slowly, allowing the warmth to seep into my skin. Jane took a wash cloth and gently began to clean my back, and I kept my eyes away from hers, not wanting to see her reaction.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” she murmured, dipping the cloth into the water. She brought it back up, swiping it over my shoulders.

“You didn’t,” I said truthfully. “I was just worried you were angry at me.”

Her hand faltered for a moment, and she hesitated. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing you could do that would make me angry at you… except let yourself go like this.”

I closed my eyes. “Jane, please.”

“No. I lost you once, I won’t lose you again,” she said. She rinsed my back, grabbing the shampoo. “I can’t imagine what you went through, and I know things with Dean are difficult. But you’ve got to try. For me. I’m begging you.”

I didn’t respond as she carefully washed my hair. I was silent for the rest of the time. After my bath, she brushed out my hair and moisturized my face, and then flossed and brushed my teeth for me. She babied me, but I knew that I didn’t have the strength to get up and do it all on my own.

She allowed me to go back to my room if I ate something. I reluctantly agreed, my appetite still nonexistent, but choked down a sandwich for her sake. I knew she was trying, and I appreciated it. I just didn’t want it, and I did my best to swallow back the urge to throw it up.

“Sleep,” she said.

“I can’t,” I told her. “Really, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She asked. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head, and she sighed deeply. “I can’t help you unless you talk.”

I stayed silent, and turned away from her, bringing the covers up to my chin. I heard her mumble something under her breath, and her hand gently laid itself on my leg.

“I’ll come check on you later, okay?” She said. I didn’t respond, simply stared at the wall across from me. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to eat. And I didn’t want to leave my bed.

I didn’t see the point in existing anymore.

***

“You exist purely for my pleasure.”

Fingertips ran down my face, smearing blood across the hollowed cheeks and over cracked lips. My eyes were glazed over, focused on nothing as I stared blankly at the wall.

The fifth hundredth year was approaching. I had given up hope on the Winchesters and Jane around the third century. I knew that the extent of their rescuing ways only reached so far.

Amel was persistent, not once letting me rest for a day. He would always come around, some sort of new torture thrown my way, if that was even possible. There were a few tactics he liked to recycle, but he didn’t want to “get bored.”

“I know you know that they aren’t coming for you. Surely you’ve given up on them?” Amel said, palm cupping my cheek. I ignored him, as I always did, and kept my eyes trained forward. His other hand ran down my torso, stopping at my pelvic bone, and I bit my tongue in disgust. “I did. I truly thought they would come for you at some point. But alas, they have disappointed me.”

He sighed, letting go of me, not missing the slight slump in relief I had. He turned away from me, heeled boots clacking along the cracked stone floors. His onyx painted nails scraped along the handles of the knives atop of the metal cart, and he let out a whine.

“What must we do today, pet? It seems we’ve used just about everything here at least twice,” he said, mostly to himself. He glanced over at me, leaning against the cart. “Hm?”

A knock rang through the room, and Amel grumbled to himself. Without breaking his gaze from my body, he motioned with his wrist, and the door creaked open. Astrid, whom I had gotten quite familiar with over the last century, sauntered in, her platinum hair tied up in an intricate braid.

“Crowley wants to speak with you,” she said. Amel groaned, picking up a small, curved knife. He twirled it between his fingers.

“Must I go? I’m busy,” he said, pouting. He was immature for a demon of such high ranks, and his black lined eyes and painted nails made him look like a teenage rebel, his leather pants and boots not helping his case much. He looked more like a pirate than a demon.

“He said it’s urgent,” Astrid said. Her eyes flickered to me briefly.

Amel sighed. “Fine.”

Before I could react, he had shot his wrist out, the small knife being shot through the air like a bullet. It lodged itself inside my windpipe, and I cried out, not much sound coming out. Blood soon filled my airways, and I began to choke and sputter. Astrid’s eyes widened, and a smirk crossed Amel’s face.

“She’ll be fine once I get back,” Amel said, waving his hand at me. My lungs burned for oxygen as they began to fill with blood, and black spots began to dot my vision as panic bubbled in my chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s already dead.”

And with that, he left me alone, blood beginning to foam at my mouth as I desperately tried to suck air into my lungs.

***

Weeks flew by faster than expected, and with time, I grew weaker. I began to sleep a bit more, only a couple hours a night, and even then I would be awakened by fits of nightmares. It seemed as though I couldn’t catch a break, and I found it difficult to function by midday.

My relationship with Jane was still strained, but it finally began to repair itself around the third week. She eventually stopped helping me, and I didn’t mind. The old me would have, but not anymore. I was actually grateful. At this point, I was merely surviving, but if it turned out that I would stop doing so, I don’t think I’d mind.

I barely spoke two words to Dean within the four weeks of our last encounter. He hadn’t made any moves towards me and I hadn’t made any moves towards him. It was his turn to move a pawn, and I was simply staring at the clock.

I slowly but surely began to feel a little more numb, and whereas I usually wouldn’t like that, I welcomed it. This way, I wouldn’t have to feel the fear and pain I felt when I had a flashback. Instead, it was simply a dull ache.

Hunts were far and in between. I typically hunted on my own, taking the larger hunts out of carelessness, but also out of spite. It gave me more things to kill and get my anger out on. Jane didn’t like it, but she didn’t do anything to stop it, either. I slowly began fading away before their eyes, and they had given up on me.

Old me would’ve been pissed. But now, I was thankful.

I was in bed, curled up under the blankets. An uneaten sandwich and a bowl of fruit sat on my nightstand. My eyes began to flutter, when suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Y/N?” Dean called. He sounded defeated; hesitant. I swallowed thickly, sitting up.

“Come in,” I said. The door opened slowly, Dean stepping in before closing it softly behind him. He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine, silence sitting heavily in the room. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied simply. He motioned for the bed, and I shrugged, letting him perch on the edge of the mattress. He looked down at his hands. “I wanted to… I needed to come and apologize.” He swallowed thickly, scratching his neck. “I know it’s been a while since everything and I… I guess I just couldn’t find the right words to say. But now, I don’t think there ever will be the ‘right words’ that I should say to you.”

He finally looked up at me, face scrunched up in a way that made him seem younger, more like a scared boy than a fearless hunter.

“I am so sorry. I know that can’t possibly take away what I said to you. Don’t be mad at her, but Jane told me what she suspected had happened to you in hell, and what you told her. And when I got angry, I said things I didn’t mean.”

“Why did you get angry?” I asked. “Why did you kiss me when you’re with Jane?”

He took a deep breath, wringing his hands in his lap. He bit his lip. “Because… because I still love you.”

I gasped slightly, squinting my eyes at him. “What?”

“Jane and I talked about a week ago and we made the mutual decision to end things,” Dean said, looking away for a moment. I brought my knees up to my chest, eyes widening. “I never stopped loving you. Ever. And you being back I… I can’t help it. I can’t. And knowing I hurt you and pushing you away has broken me.”

“Why did you make me think you hated me?” I asked bitterly. “You don’t know the half of what happened in hell and thinking that you hated me just added to all the shit I was dealing with.”

He swallowed thickly, eyes not leaving his hands. “I know that no matter how many times I apologize, it can never make up for what I said… what I did. I can’t imagine what you went through. I know what hell is like, truly like, but I have an inkling that it was nowhere near your experience.”

“No. I don’t think so,” I whispered. He gave a small nod.

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me, because I know what I said and did isn’t something easy to forgive. And I don’t know if I should ask for a second chance, I sure as hell don’t deserve on, especially after being with Jane but… if you’d have me…” He trailed off, and I bit my lip.

A tear slipped down his cheek, and I tentatively reached forward to grasp his hand. Mine was even smaller now, and his fingers curled around my slender ones. “Hey.” His eyes bore into mine, waiting for the words to be spoken. “I love you, Dean Winchester. Always have.”

He smiled at me, hand raising to cup my cheek. “Always will.”

And this time when he kissed me, I didn’t feel guilt, nor pain. It was different, as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

And in a way, it had.

The conversation with Jane wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. She explained to me, privately, that she knew she never loved him. She cared for him, but was never able to feel true love for Dean like I had. She was happy for me, truly happy.

I moved back into Dean’s room after about a week. We moved a little slower, but I was finally able to get some sleep when I was with him. I explained to him why I was afraid to fall asleep, and he simply held my face in his hands and promised me that nothing would ever happen to me when I was with him.

He would chase away the nightmares, softly rocking me back to sleep or simply hugging me tightly to his chest. It would make me feel better, being tightly held like that. It grounded me, and reminded me that I was no longer alone.

I also slowly began to eat again. My appetite hadn’t truly returned, but Dean coaxed me into eating again. But my self loathing had begun to disperse slightly, and slowly but surely weight began to return to my bones. I had began to look sickly, and I scared myself when I looked in the mirror, the thin woman looking back at me with the tired eyes and tight lips alien. But I was beginning to look like myself again.

Things were finally looking up. I was with the love of my life, my relationship with my sister was as strong as ever, and I finally began to feel like myself again.

***

We were back in that field, the grass green and sun warm as it heated the Earth beneath us and kissed our skin. My head laid on Dean’s chest, fingers drawing slow patterns over his shirt, his hand in my hair, gently brushing through the strands.

“I missed this,” I whispered, watching a honey bee dance from flower to flower. Dean hummed and took a deep breath.

“Me too, sweetheart. You have no idea,” he said softly. I lifted my head, eyes meeting the jade I loved so much before pressing my lips softly to his. His hand twisted itself gently in my hair, keeping my head close to his as he gently nipped my bottom lip, soothing the slight sting with his tongue before kissing me again sweetly, ever so softly caressing my lips with his own.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asked, eyes hazy. I smiled lazily at him, shaking my head playfully. He chuckled, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Too much.”

“Why?” I asked.

He smirked. “Because we’re soulmates.”

I breathed a laugh, closing my eyes for a moment, remembering a time long ago where I said those exact words to him in this very field. That memory wasn’t as happy as this one would be. I knew that now, we’d grow to make new memories in our field, and in the bunker. Ones that weren’t full of heartbreak and sadness, desperation and worry. But hope for a new future, and anticipation for those memories to come.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I love you Y/N Y/L/N. Always have.”

I smiled widely at him, pressing my lips against his again, a butterfly touch that sent shivers down my spine. “Always will.”

In that moment, I realized my life had finally put itself back together. That no matter what had happened in the past, things were finally how they should be. Sure, I still had nightmares, and Dean would still hold me as I cried. Jane and I still argued, but we didn’t take each other for granted, and would soon realize that the argument was irrelevant, and quickly forgot about it.

And I still had that fear in the back of my mind of going to sleep, knowing that there was a good chance I would see Amel dancing his wicked dance behind my closed eyelids, and that I’d be warped into another round of torture. But I knew Dean was there, and he would chase away each and every nightmare of mine with ease. Finally, I found myself settling back into my old place, into a new life that had stronger formations and walls built around me and the people I loved.

I finally felt like I was home.

Enjoyed the story? Let me know here! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated!

Forever Lovlies:

@jennalyncarrigan1230

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@waywardsepticeye

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@wheres-my-cheese

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

@hi-my-name-is-riley

@thehufflepuffblog

@donnaintx

@pisces-cutie

@waywardnerd67

@alexwinchester23

@jotink78

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

@witch-of-letters

@supernatural-crazed-girl

@gh0stgurl

@choosemyname

@1800-fandoms

@spnskinnyballs

@kcrews74

@adoptdontshoppets

@x-waywardaf-x

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@natura1phenomenon

@deanandsamsbitch

@heyitscam99

@thewinchesterchronicles

@thegirlsadventuresinwonderland

@shortbty14

@frozenhuntress67

@arses21434

Jensen/Dean beans:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@polina-93

@mirandaaustin93

@akshi8278

@sasquatch5

@adoptdontshoppets

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@fangirl-forevers-world

@rawritsmolly

@frozenhuntress67

@reginaphalange2403

@x-waywardaf-x

@jessieray98

@thewinchesterchronicles

@cookiechipdough

@tryn25

@yesfictionalboysarebetter

@angelessquirrel

@ackleholic-hunter

@weepingwillowphoenix

@analisespn

@dolans-lover

#spndarkbingo #spndeanbingo #badthingshappenbingo #bad things happen bingo #heavenandhellbingo #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #angst #trigger warnings #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic

211 notes · View notes

darley1101 · 5 years

Text

Emotional Mess

Title: Emotional Mess

Book: Open Heart

Characters: Ethan x Loren/MC

Rating: Mature

Warning/Triggers: Past tense alcoholism and the effects it can have on a family.

Summary: Loren confronts Ethan about his drinking habits and secrets, past and present, spill out.

Request: July 7 Reflection and July 10 Love from @drakewalkerfantasy and @queen-among-writers. Also using “When you love someone, you don't just stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy...even then. Especially then.” from @queen-among-writers

A/N: Tags are in a re-blog. If you would like to be added, moved, or removed please let me know. If you enjoyed the story please consider a like, comment, or re-blog. As always thank you for your support.

Emotional Mess

Exhaustion seeped into Dr. Loren Holt's bones, making her feel decades older than her twenty-eight years. Sixteen hours running consult in an over crowded emergency room had just about driven her to the brink of insanity. What was even more insane was the fact that she had considered taking on another eight hours just so she could avoid going home. Home. The very word made her wrinkle up her nose and tied her stomach up in knots. 'You could always text Sienna, see if you can crash in her room for a bit,' she silently reminded herself as she leaned against a traffic light pole waiting for the next bus to arrive. Tilting her head back, Loren let out a groan. Had she really just considered texting her former roommate to see if she could borrow her bed? Jesus. She scrubbed a hand down her face and then massaged the back of her neck. 'Get it together Loren. You're an adult. He's an adult. Just tell him that his drinking bugs you.' Her stomach knotted up even more. The last time she had tried to broach the subject of Ethan's drinking he had given her an emotionless stare and reminded her of all the times he'd had to peel her off the floor after one too many margaritas. 'Three times,' she'd countered, 'you had to come get me from Sienna's three times...and that's different. I don't do it all the time. I don't come home and pour myself a drink just because the day was shit.' His response had been to say he wasn't in the mood to argue and then made up some bull shit excuse about needing milk before walking out the door. The scene had felt too much like a blast from the past, only it hadn't been Ethan walking out it had been her father.

Wordlessly, Loren pushed away from the pole as the bus rolled to a stop. She offered the driver a brief smile, flashing her pass, before finding a seat near the rear exit. Her body slouched, hours of having to constantly be on the go finally catching up with her. She half expected to doze off but wasn't surprised when she didn't. From an early age she learned to live on very little sleep. Between her parents fighting and neighbors blaring music she had been lucky to get three to four hours. Only her third grade teacher seemed to notice and even then the kind hearted woman had bought the lies Loren's mother fed her about catching Loren reading with her flashlight when she should have been sleeping. There had been no mention of the parties next door or the alcohol induced fights that would last until the wee hours. After that, Loren learned not to speak up. All it had earned her was a smile from her teacher for being such an avid reader, followed by a lecture on getting enough sleep. 'Stop dwelling on the past,' she internally chided, 'you have to focus on the present and,' her hand slid down to her queasy stomach, 'the future.'

The weariness accelerated as the bus pulled up to the stop closest to the apartment she shared with Ethan. She took a deep breath, hitched the backpack that doubled as a purse higher on her shoulder, and stepped off. She kept her head ducked down until she seen the familiar brick and glass high rise. If the doorman noticed her sullen mood he didn't comment on it, nor did he seem to take offense to her lack of greeting. His cheerful 'have a pleasant evening' made her feel worse. She paused before getting on to the elevator and turned to give him a small wave. Sagging against the interior wall, she mentally braced herself for the discussion that would have to take place. It couldn't be put off, ignored, or brushed aside. Not anymore. Either he listened or... The or made her blood still. She wasn't ready for 'or' but what choice did she have? She wouldn't be her mother, she couldn't do that...

“Ethan,” she called out a few minutes later, letting the apartment door slam shut behind her. Her backpack slid off her shoulder, hitting the polished wood floors with a solid thud.

“Kitchen,” he called back.

'You can do this.' Squaring her shoulders, Loren walked across the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Hey,” she greeted quietly, sliding onto one of the bar stools that lined the island. Her stomach somersaulted as he smiled and placed a plate of chicken milanese in front of her. Without thinking she picked up the fork and used it to push bits of breading off the meat.

“Long shift I take it?” Ethan mused. Loren looked up in time to see him take a drink from the low ball of scotch that was sitting next to his plate.

“Please don't,” she said softly, her heart beating wildly.

A deep v formed between Ethan's brows. “Don't what?” He took another drink. “Ask about work?”

“Drink.”

His sigh echoed off the cabinets. “Loren, I've had a long day I'm really not in the mood for-”

Her fork fell, clattering against the marble counter top. “For what? To hear me voice what I feel is a legitimate concern?” She felt her fingers starting to curl into fists when he let out another sigh and muttered something about margaritas and wine under his breath. “No,” she spat out. “We're not going down that path again. Having a few margaritas with friends or the occasional glass of wine is different.”

“It is different,” Ethan agreed. “I have a drink to wind down after a long day at work. You, on the other hand, have to be picked up because you've had a few too many mango-ritas or you let some silly television show drive you to consume a whole bottle of wine.”

“Everyone was shit faced after the Game of Thrones finale!” The words flew out of Loren's mouth before she could stop them. A frustrated scowl creased her brow when she realized she'd let Ethan shift the focus off himself. “Argh! That isn't the point Ethan. The point is-”

“The point is you want to make unfounded accusations without addressing the fact that you-” The sound of blood roaring in her ears drowned out the rest of his words. She felt the room shift, wavering from crisp modern décor to the cheap imitation wood of low income housing. Her mother was screaming again, demanding to know when her father was going to stop drinking and get a job; while her father slouched in his broken recliner sipping gin straight from the bottle. Loren groaned, burying her face in her hands. 'Why, why do I keep comparing Ethan and myself to my parents?' It was a moot question since she already knew the answer. “Loren? Are you even listening?” She blinked, her lips parting to fire back some smart ass retort but nothing came out. Her chest tightened and she had to fight the urge to run. “Loren?” Concern replaced the annoyance on Ethan's face. He rounded the counter and cupped her face with one of his hands. “I need you to talk to me...to tell me what this is really about.”

Gulping around the lump in her throat, Loren stared at him. Her mind felt like it was going at the speed of light towards a brick wall without any brakes. “My father was alcoholic.” Saying the words out loud lifted some of the burden weighing heavily on her shoulders. “He wasn't violent or mentally abusive. His alcohol came first though. Didn't matter if we had groceries or if the utilities were shut off...as long as he had his gin he was happy.” She studied her nails, frowning. “My mom hated it. Maybe she tried talking to him like a rational person...I don't know...I just remember the yelling.” Her body involuntarily flinched. “All she did was yell Ethan. That's what I remember most about my mom...her yelling.”

“Lor-”

Loren shook her head. He needed to hear it almost as much as she needed to say it. “Please...let me finish?” He hesitated and then nodded, concern flickering in his bright blue eyes. “I don't want to be like them. I don't want to be remembered like that...I don't want to be the mom who screams all the time because dad drinks.” 'Tell him...tell him what triggered these fears.' The knot of emotion in her throat thickened and no amount of gulping would budge it. “I thought I was pregnant,” she blurted out before he could say anything. Her tongue darted out to swipe across her lower lip, a nervous habit she'd never been able to kick. “I thought I was pregnant,” she repeated when he didn't say anything. “Did you know you have to wait five minutes for the results of those home tests? It feels more like an eternity though...longest five minutes of my life. The whole time...all I could think about was...what if I'm like my mom? What if...what if you start drinking even more than you already do and wind up like my dad...and it makes me bitter like my mom...” She paused, gasping for air.

He rounded the counter, stopping short of where she sat before closing the distance between them and gathering her close. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I don't know...I guess I just thought what was the point in freaking you out too if there was no reason to freak out.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her arms winding around his waist. The familiar, steady drum of his heart beating soothes the tension that had coiled in her belly.

Ethan pulled back, his gaze searching her face before his eyes locked with hers. “We're a team Rookie.: He tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing across her jaw. “That means we don't face things alone.”

“You probably think I'm crazy,” Loren sniffed. “You probably shouldn't love me. I mean...I could be...crazy. I think my mom was. Or maybe my dad just made her that way.” Letting go of the past, of the legacy her parents had given her, felt impossible.

“When you love someone, you don't just stop,” Ethan told her. “Ever.” The corners of his lips tugged upward. “Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy...even then. Especially then.” His cheek rest against the top of her head. “For what it is worth, when the time comes I know you are going to be an amazing mother. And, if it makes you feel better, I promise to find other ways to relax after work. Didn't you say you wanted to start jogging together?”

A groan built in the back of Loren's throat. “Seriously? I share my secret pain and you use it to coerce me into jogging?”

Ethan chuckled. “Think of it as a growth experiment.” His face turned serious, their eyes locked. “I'm sorry that my drinking brought up-”

Loren pressed a finger against his lips and shook her head. “It wasn't you or anything you did. It was me. I guess I've never really dealt with the past and when my period was late it brought all of it to the surface.” She flicked his lower lip and let out a sigh. “Maybe you're right. Maybe jogging will be good for us. I can sort through my thoughts, figure out what its going to take for me to let go of the past...and you...” she narrowed her eyes, tipping her head to the side, “...can figure out how not to be such a grump.”

“I am not a grump,” Ethan protested before shooting her a stern look. “I see what you're doing. Trying to change the subject. I'll respect that choice for now Rook...but some day we're going to have to talk about this...really talk about it.” Loren nodded, knowing that he was right. “Because I love you and one of these days I want to have a family with you.”

A smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “I want that too.”

#choices fanfiction #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #choices july challenge

86 notes · View notes

bensboynton · 5 years

Text

Always b.h

@styles-charli asked: hi! a request where ben and the reader head down to australia to visit her family in melbourne for a week because it’s the readers cousins wedding and he meets all her fam and just cute!! thanks lovely xoxoxo

here’s the fic i posted a sneak peak too a few days ago!

this prompt made my heart melt not even kidding. i’m definitely writing a part 2(and potentially part 3) because this prompt is just too cute.

feedback is appreciated:) also my inbox is open for more requests! although i’m quite swamped at the moment, i’ll get to yours eventually.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: never been to australia so idk if this is accurate, unedited, fluffy

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, looking at the time on your phone screen anxiously. Ben said he was going to be home ten minutes ago, and of course, the day you need to talk to him about something important, he's late.

You could smell the scent of spring in Los Angeles drifting through the open windows in the living room of your shared apartment with Ben. You were sat on the brown leather couch, your left leg bouncing in anticipation for his arrival.

You had been living with Ben as a couple for two years, and four years if you count the unfortunate 730 days you both spent absolutely despising each other as roommates. Until one day Ben just kissed you and… well. The rest is history.

You had a last minute obligation that you needed to attend, much to your dismay, and you wanted to see if your lovely boyfriend would be interested in attending with you.

A few moments later, you hear keys jingle in the lock on the other side of the door, followed by a soft thud and a string of curses. After a short delay, the door swings open revealing the Greek God that is your boyfriend.

His hair is messy, lips pressed firmly around his car keys as he walks into the house with five grocery bags in hand. He takes a step forward, carefully lifting his left leg and closing the door behind him, dropping the groceries on the ground. Sighing a breath of relief, he looks up at you, quickly meeting your eye.

You were mesmerized for a moment. He was in black sweatpants and a maroon crewneck, one of the ones you bought for him that he loved so much. He looked slightly breathless from walking up the stairs to your shared apartment.

"Thank you for your help, Darling," he jokes sarcastically, setting the car keys that were previously held in his mouth on the marble countertop, "I really appreciate it."

You laughed, playfully sauntering up to his towering figure. You returned his big grin with a big, toothy smile as you softly looped your arms around his neck.

"Sorry baby, I was distracted," you mumbled, pressing your lips to his quickly before resting your head on his chest. You both stayed like that for a moment in a comfortable silence, the sound of birds chirping right outside your apartment window.

You moved your head from his chest, looking up to gaze into his eyes. They were so clear and bright you swore you keep see your own reflection in them.

“Missed you.” you sighed, eliciting a small giggle from Ben.

“Missed you more.”

“Not possible.”

“Wanna bet, love?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, you’re on.”

You and Ben moved your conversation to the kitchen, bringing the bags of groceries with you.

“What’s on the line for this bet?” Ben asked, cocking his head to the left expectantly. He gently placed the plastic bags down on the counter as you looked up at him. An idea suddenly popped in your head.

“If I win, you have to go on a trip with me to a place really far away,” you said, causing Ben to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this trip you’re talking about?”

"Okay, so, being serious for a second, you can totally 110% say no if you don't want to, you're not obligated to do this. I won't force you to go with me."

"I can't exactly say no if I don't even know where you're asking me to go?" he spoke, the confusion leaking from his lips. He pulled a green apple out of the plastic bag of ones he had just bought at the store. He kept looking at you expectantly as he took a big bite out of the bulbous fruit

You glared at him playfully as you threw a box of pasta at him. He caught it with ease, casually placing it in the wooden cabinet to his right. So annoying that he could play things off like that so smoothly.

"My cousin is getting married back home in Melbourne, and I have to go. And like I said, the invitation is open but don't feel obligated to go, but if you would possibly, even be slightly interested in going with me and being my plus one?" you said, nervously shaking your right leg, "It would also finally get my mom off my back about meeting you."

You hated weddings. Since your first one when you were 6 and you had to be a flower girl, you hated them. They took forever, and everyone was extra obnoxious and emotional. It wasn’t for you.

So getting the phone call from your mother telling you that, yes, you did have to come home for Delilah’s wedding was not the most pleasant start to your day.

"Is she getting married in the city?" Ben asked, reaching for his phone that was sitting near the sink.

"Well, kind of. It's on this big ranch on the outskirts of the city that's absolutely ridiculous and completely unnecessary if you ask me, but technically-"

"I'd love to go with you, Y/N," Ben interrupted, a boyish grin slowly creeping onto his face.

"Wait, really?" you asked, your mouth agape slightly as you started to smile.

"No, I'm just fucking with you." He said in all seriousness, looking you dead in the eye. His face broke into a grin a few moments later.

"Yes, really. I want to meet your family. I think it's only fair after I dragged you back to London with me to meet my parents." he murmured, making his way over to you, grabbing your hands.

"Is it Delilah that's getting married?" Ben asked, interrupting the momentary silence that had fallen between you.

Your face lit up when he said her name, "Yeah, it is actually. That bloke David finally grew a pair and proposed." Ben laughed, remembering the many rants of yours he listened to after phone calls with a distraught Delilah over "Dumbass David" as you called him.

You sighed lightly in content. You felt your heart start pounding in your chest when you thought about traveling to Australia with Ben. You were so nervous for Ben to meet your Mom and Dad, not to mention your extremely obnoxious extended family. To be honest, you could've upchucked the avocado toast you had for lunch right there.

But on the other hand, you were practically chomping at the bit to take Ben around your town and show him the diner you ate at after school every day, and the movie theater you went to most Saturdays with your friends.

You had been putting off having Ben meet your family for months now, and for good reason. Your family was... judgemental, to say the least. You were scared of them rejecting Ben, and you didn't want to have to put him (or yourself) through that mental and emotional abuse.

So, every time they asked about Ben over the phone, you'd change the subject, or every time Ben would ask about your family you'd suddenly have a very urgent need to use the restroom.

Every once in a while though, you'd tell Ben about your Aunt Frida who was constantly churning up old family drama, or your Uncle Jerry who would always spell your name wrong on your birthday cards.

"When do we have to leave for the wedding?" Ben inquired, again focusing on the many groceries yet to be put away.

"Yeah... about that," you pulled away from him again, grimacing slightly in embarrassment, "tomorrow."

Ben about choked on his saliva as he looked at you in disbelief, "Tomorrow?!" he exclaimed, his hands running through his blonde locks, anxiety flashing over his green orbs.

"Tomorrow."

"Well, Christ, I better get packing then."

Ben scurried off to your shared room, and not long after, you heard a string of profanities and a loud clatter. You smiled warmly and chuckled, calling out to your boyfriend softly, "Thanks for getting my suitcase down, baby!"

Thank God you had Ben.

"Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea."

"Neither of us ever said this would be a good idea, love."

You stumbled around your room in the pitch black, trying to find your socks and tennis shoes. It was 3 am in Los Angeles, and it was still dark outside. You finally found what you needed and looked up at Ben, who looked like he was falling asleep standing up. His eyes were closed, and you swore you could see the bags under his eyes from where you were standing.

You lightly tapped his shoulder as you walked by to remind him you had to leave soon as you strolled into your kitchen. Ben was close behind you, trying to grab your shoulders and pull you into a hug. He was very cuddly when he was tired.

You flicked the light on in the kitchen out of habit, immediately regretting your decision as your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of your head. Ben stumbled towards you and turned them off, plunging you both into darkness again.

You both chuckled at the immaturity of your actions, stumbling around to gather anything else you needed that you "forgot" to pack last night.

If you were being honest with yourself, you and Ben both fell asleep in the middle of a Grey's Anatomy episode after procrastinating packing for three hours. You both could’ve gotten everything done with plenty of time to spare, but you chose not to. So, this stressful sweep over the house was needed and most definitely your fault.

Once you were sure you had everything, you wheeled your suitcases out into the hallway of your apartment, the lights dimly lit as you turned around, locking the door. You turned around and reached for your suitcase, smiling at Ben dreamily as you wheeled your extremely heavy suitcase into the elevator.

"You're gonna cuddle with me when we sleep on the plane, right?" you mumbled, your voice whiny and needy. Ben smirked lazily, meeting your eyes.

"If you insist, Miss Y/L/N."

You playfully swatted his shoulder as the elevator doors opened, and you strolled out into the expansive parking lot. You admired the bright moon in the sky as Ben loaded your bags into the back of his car, walking around to the driver's side and glancing at you through the tinted windows.

It was just cold enough to be able to see a faint wisp of your breath in the air, and this caused you to pull your jacket tightly around your figure as you continued to admire Ben.

"You getting in or am I heading to Australia alone?" he drawled, eliciting a playful glare from you. You got in the passenger's seat, immediately putting on the most upbeat Queen song you could find in your music library to stop either of you from drifting off to sleep.

You reveled in every peaceful moment of silence in-between songs with Ben, as you knew the next week and a half was going to be absolutely insane for the two of you. No time to relax, up late every night, awake early every morning, bachelorette parties, gown fittings, the works.

You didn't know how much time you and Ben would have alone, or if you'd even be able to stay for the week and a half. You'd been mulling over the possibility of a fight between you and your family, or your family and Ben. You got goosebumps just thinking about having to deal with that mess.

Granted, it's probably not the best idea to think about becoming estranged from your family due to your boyfriend, but you thought about it anyway.

You hummed along to “Love of My Life” that was now playing softly through the luxurious speakers in Ben's car. The sun had yet to show itself over the thinly drawn line of the horizon, and it allowed you to admire the darkness you so rarely got to see.

You were able to quietly enjoy Ben’s presence (and Freddie Mercury’s) before arriving at the busy airport. Sitting in a car that smelt oddly like Ben (you couldn’t explain it, it just did) and hearing Freddie’s voice float through the air airily-like bubbles- was almost ethereal. It's like Freddie was making your heart grow two sizes for the man who dropped all his plans for the next week to take an impromptu flight to Australia with you.

You don't know how you got so lucky, to be honest. After what seemed like a lifetime, Ben had parked in the airport. He grasped your hand and gave you a reassuring wink as you got out of the car.

“Ready for this wedding?” he asked, nudging your shoulder gently.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

"Unbelievable. What kind of airline service doesn't have Bohemian Rhapsody as a movie choice? I'm outraged!" you spoke with a little too much energy after getting off a 15-hour flight.

Ben chuckled beside you, wheeling his own luggage behind him, clearly exhausted, "I think you should send in a complaint," he agreed sarcastically.

"I think I should too!"

Both of you finally made your way to baggage claim, and you sat down on top of your luggage, absentmindedly reading the airline pamphlet they gave you on the plane.

The screeching siren sounded, causing both you and Ben to jump as luggage started making its way to the evermoving carousel.

In no time, you and Ben got your suitcases and you made your way over to the outside of the airport, walking over to a wrought iron bench while Ben called an Uber. You felt a sticky layer of sweat beginning to form all over your body, and it was oddly comforting.

You had lived in Australia for your whole life, and then moved to Los Angeles about four years ago. But the heat in LA wasn't the same.

Here it was humid, to the point where walking outside made you feel like you just got out of the shower. It was so unbearable, sometimes you'd have to actually go to a pool to get any relief from the unrelenting warmth. Your Aunt Frida called the heat in Australia "wet." California consisted of a drier heat, one that could make you sweat but was rougher and felt almost as if the sun was a heating lamp. It felt unnatural.

So climbing into the air-conditioned Uber was a relief, to say the least. You let out a long sigh at the relief of finally being able to cool down. You had recently lost your built up tolerance to the Australian heat, and it was beginning to show.

You sat with Ben in the backseat of the car, holding his hand in your lap regardless of how sweaty it was. You were far too nervous. The idea of introducing your mother to your first serious boyfriend in six years was utterly terrifying. Not to mention, this would be the first time you would be seeing her in almost a year.

In what felt like no time at all, you had arrived at your parent's house. You took a few shaky breaths as you clambered out of the car, clumsily grabbing your clunky case of clothes.

You glued yourself to Ben's side as you walked up the sidewalk, and you were standing in front of the door.

"Whatever happens next, please don't break up with me." You muttered as you knocked on the door three times.

You heard a few heavy steps as the door flew open, revealing your mom standing there with open arms.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed, launching herself forward and into your hesitant arms. You heard Ben chuckle at her enthusiasm from beside you as you wrapped your arms around your eager mother's torso.

She held onto you just long enough to make it feel slightly uncomfortable, pulling away and putting her hands on either side of your face, breathing heavily. "You get more and more beautiful every time I get to see you." She pulled you into another hug before looking up and noticing Ben.

"Oh! My god, hello, you must be Ben. Y/N has told me so much about you!" she said, glancing quickly at your slightly nervous boyfriend.

"It's so great to finally meet you-" Ben began, holding out his hand for a handshake when your mother threw herself into his arms. It was your turn to laugh now. Your mother pulled away again looking at the two of you with wistful eyes.

"How rude of me! Come in, come in, let's get you all situated!" she exclaimed, bustling into the house quickly. You and Ben gave each other reassuring smiles as you followed her inside, bringing all your bags with you.

You trudged up the stairs, heaving as you carried your bag behind you. Ben saw you struggling and lifted up the other side of your bag, shifting half the weight to his other arm. You winked at him gratefully, and he returned it before you made your way to the top of the stairs.

“Ben, I have you in the guest room, and Y/N you can of course stay in your old room.”

You felt your heart drop. It was kind of bold for you to assume your mother would let you sleep in the same bed as your boyfriend in her house, even if you were almost a decade over legal age.

You opened your mouth to say something before she answered the question you had yet to ask.

“It wasn’t my idea. You know how anal your father is about this kind of stuff, my love.”

Your mother’s voice was light and airy, and bubbled so much it could be mistaken for carbonated soda. She wore all her emotions on her sleeve and displayed them through her voice, and that’s how you could tell if her statements her sincere.

Sadly, this one couldn’t have been more genuine.

You huffed in annoyance, tossing your still very full suitcase into your old room, pictures of your friends and favorite bands still hanging up on the walls. You quickly shut the door behind you and walked over to the guest bedroom, where Ben was already beginning to unpack.

“You sure you don’t wanna nap before getting involved in unpacking all that?” you laughed as Ben tried to refold a shirt after messing it up. His face softened at the sound of your voice.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a nap,” he said, walking over to you before wrapping you in a bear hug, “only if you take one with me.”

“How could I say no to an offer like that?” you inquired sarcastically, tapping Ben on the tip of his nose with the pad of your index finger. He scrunched his face up, making your heart melt for a moment.

You glanced at your watch, sighing with relief, “We have at least 30 minutes to nap before my mom calls us down for dinner.”

“Plenty of time.”

Ben quickly moved his suitcase for doing a dramatic jump and landing on the guess bed, opening his arms wide as an invitation for you to lay in his comforting embrace.

And you did.

You were both out like a light, trying to catch up on sleep and fix your inner-clocks and get them used to the time change.

But for the moment, your clocks were very broken.

So you laid in the guest bedroom of your mother’s house in the arms of your equally as sleepy boyfriend, desperately chasing the sweet release of alertness.

Right before you closed your eyes, you looked up at Ben lazily, “Thank you for coming with me,” you paused to lawn quietly, “it's quite nice having someone to rely on for things like this.”

“Y/N, you can always rely on me. I promise.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Maybe this wedding wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #borhap boys #borhap cast #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody movie

110 notes · View notes

fatandnerdy30 · 5 years

Text

The Itsy Bitsy Spider 25

Twenty five chapters already!!! Woohoo!!! I am so glad that people are still enjoying this story! We are nearing the end, but I don't know how many chapters are left. I have to write it all on one file, and just copy and paste what I want to post. So, there's no telling! This whole deal with Disney and Sony going under has really broken my heart, so expect more IronDad in the future to help me cope with everything!! But, if you do enjoy this, please leave a comment with either nice words, or just a critique!!

"Anyone home?" Clint walked through the door, head turning left and right until he came into the living room. His wife was sitting with a strange man and Pepper on the couches. "Honey, who's this?" Laura turned to him and her face lit up. "This is Hank Pym. Hank, this is my husband. You may know him as-" "Hawkeye," Pym said with a nod. "Yes, I've heard of you from Dr. Selvig. He actually talks very...let's say highly of you."The archer smirked as the two shook hands. "Well it's a good thing that the old man hasn't forgotten who I am, you know after surviving Loki together." "Yes, well, let's hope he never has to 'survive' another Loki again. His mind can't take it." They parted, each taking their respective seats, though Clint stayed close to his wife. "I checked the perimeter and it looks like we're safe for now." Natasha walked in, casting a threatening look at Dr. Pym. "Where's Peter?" "Over here," Pym said, motioning to the coffee table where the boy sat, almost unnoticeable. His outfit was ripped in places, leaving healing wounds visible and he was fiddling with his wrist bands. "Looks like he'll need a new outfit," the hit woman observed. "What happened, by the way?" Peter looked up. "I was taken.... But, I knew that man." His voice was so low everyone had to move closer just to hear him. "His name is Adrian Toomes. He's the father of one of the girl's in my school, her name is Liz. She's really pretty, smart, head of the yearbook committee." "You like her," Clint had a knowing smile on his face. "What!?" the boy shouted, his face turning red. "N-no I don't! Stop being ridiculous uncle Clint." He looked away, pouting. "Uncle Clint?" Laura asked. "Since when did this happen?" She didn't mind it at all, but she knew the look on Peter's face, and he needed the subject to be changed. Luckily, Clint knew what she was doing."Well, I figured that he needed to call me something other than Mr. Clint. The name gave me the heebies." He shivered dramatically for the group's sake. "So that gave you the right to Uncle?" Natasha teased. "Of course!" Clint moved over to where Peter was and sat next to him, making sure not to crowd the small teen. "He's got a cool uncle now. Unlike a tired old dad like Tony." The minute the words left his mouth, Clint knew he had messed up. "Clint!" Peter hissed, getting up to punch the man in the thigh with all his strength, which actually hurt. "Ouch...sorry, Pete..." He looked guiltily down at the boy who seemed crestfallen, his face almost ghostly white. Pepper chose that moment to lean forward, putting her hands on the table around Peter when it looked like he was going to run for it. "Peter, is that true?" Her eyes shone with what looked like hope to everyone else. "Do you really see Tony as your father figure?" It took a second for Peter to nod, not looking at Pepper. How could he? He was sure the woman hated him for thinking of her husband, the father of their child like that. He didn't have a chance against Morgan, and he wasn't going to contest her for that. "Oh, honey. Please don't be embarrassed....in fact, in the past, I've almost called you my son, and I know Tony has called you his kid before, too." The teen's head shot up, a shocked look on his face. "R-really?" The woman nodded with a smile. "But....I just feel so guilty," he said lowly. "I have May, and if she hears that I called you and Tony...you know," he waved his hand. "Then she would be really upset and be mad and disappointed..." "I've only met your aunt once," the blonde said. "But, I know she would never feel disappointed that you found someone in your life that you could look up to. I'll tell you what, though. We'll call her later and I'll leave you alone to talk to her, okay?" The teen nodded, putting his head down. But, it wasn't out of guilt. No, this time it was happiness keeping him from looking at Pepper fully. "So...so you wouldn't mind it if I called you....Mom?" The blonde woman let out a small laugh. "Mind? Peter, you've been living with us for what? Almost two months now? You've wormed your little self into our hearts within the first three days. I would love it if you called me mom. But, only if you're comfortable with it." Her heart almost exploded at that moment. Suddenly, Peter felt the rumbling of footsteps, but he felt no car. Whipping his head to the door, he watched, shaking with fear. Who was it now? It was the knock on the door that proved it was someone safe, or at least he thought. He still hid, climbing down from the table top to the leg and to the floor. He scurried under the couch just as Mrs. Barton had opened the door. He watched the feet around him move, noting no one seemed alarmed, and that put him at ease. "Peter? You can come out now," Pepper's voice came from above him and Peter slowly made his way out from his hiding spot. "Hey there," Hope smiled at the little teen, squatting to not seem so large. "Are you okay?" "Y-Yeah..thank you, Ms. Hope, for everything. You know, saving me and stuff..." He stared down at his hands. "Think nothing of it, Pete. It was a pleasure to get to know you." She stood up and turned, keeping an eye on the boy on the floor. "Has there been any word from Mr. Stark?" "Yes, he's all right. Him, Morgan and Bruce are on their way." Pepper noticed the way Natasha's eyes lit up and hid a smile. "We were just finishing making dinner if you'd like to help?" "Sure, I could help." Scott then turned to Hank. "Did you bring the machine with you?" "Of course I did," Pym scoffed. "I'm not an idiot like you." He motioned towards his circular bag on the counter. "I'd like to wait until Dr. Banner gets here. He's been studying Peter longer than I have and he knows a great deal more." The man looked towards the boy in the woman's hand, eyes softening when he noticed him shaking a bit. "Peter," he said softly. "What's wrong?" The boy shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just a little cold."the boy lied. He stared at everyone's shoes warily, jumping every time one of them moved. "Sean wasn't able to get your heart rate up enough to keep your body warm. I suppose that would be hard to actually change the inside of a human, not just their DNA." He sighed and shook his head. "I can understand why he did this, but why not take the boy's vitals into effect? Sean is a better man, a better scientist than this. I just don't understand." Hank knelt down, offering a hand. It was slow because Peter didn't know this man, but he wanted to get away from the feet as soon as possible. He'd never been around this many people with him on the floor before. Hank was in awe of the feeling of the small human in the palm of his hand and he smiled all the way to the counter, where he set his hand down and opened it fully for the boy to climb off. Which Peter did as soon as he was set on the counter near his 'knife' and immediately grabbed it, setting to chopping up the last of the pepper slices Mrs. Barton had given him before company arrived. He was almost done when suddenly fingers wrapped around him and he let out a small yell as he was lifted from the counter, knife clattering to the surface as he turned to see Mr. Clint grinning at him. "You've done enough from what I can tell. Come on, you need a break, and I need video games. Ever played Mario Kart?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin tapped his fingers against the armrest on the door of the limo, watching the scenery as they passed. He glanced at the holographic map, watching the dot slowly move forward. How far was this place? He was getting antsy. "Calm down," Ward's voice cut in on his thoughts. "The person the tracker was attached to will get there eventually and all we have to do is follow." "But," Hammer rivaled. "What if the person isn't going to where the kid is? What then?" Ward shook his head. "They're going to him. I wouldn't doubt that's the boy's mother." Hammer nodded and sat back, watching the world pass them by again. He was angry they couldn't take the plane, but this also gave him a chance to work on some of his coding. Taking out his tablet, he began typing furiously. It had been a good few hours before Ward got his attention. "There, see? I told you." Justin looked at the dot that had finally stopped. "Map," he ordered, and instantly a large map was pulled up, almost taking up the majority of room in the car. "Iowa?" Justin quirked a brow. "What could be in Iowa?" "Well, we're about to find out." Ward tapped the glass to get the driver's attention, Hammer sending the coordinates to him. "You have the destination." The driver nodded and sped up. Justin leaned back with a smile. He loved it when a plan came together. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Oh come on!" Clint huffed and sat back, staring at the screen. "How did you beat me, kid? Can you even reach all the buttons?" Peter smiled victoriously as he let the remote control go. "Barely, but that's enough to beat you apparently." Clint scowled playfully at the boy, swooping down on him, his fingertips attacking his hair, making him balk and try to get away. "Oh no you don't!" With a grin, Clint put his hand behind Peter, blocking his escape. "Now you're mine." He then turned to tickling, making the boy laugh. Laura shook her head smiling. "I swear, he's worse than the kids." Pepper laughed when she heard the teen let out a particularly loud giggle. "But I'm glad Peter has someone he can talk to." "Uncle! Uncle!" Peter cried from the couch, tears streaming down his red face. "I give up!" He batted at the huge fingers attacking his sides, his laughter turning to giggles when they finally stopped. "I thought so," Clint said smugly. "How's dinner coming?" He turned to look at the women behind the counter, smelling the peppers and onions. "It would come faster if you got off your lazy butt and helped," Laura threw a playful glare at her husband. "But if I do that, who will spend time with Peter here?" He picked up his remote. "Rematch." "No," said Mrs. Barton, walking over to the couch and grabbing Clint by the ear, dragging him to the kitchen while Peter laughed. Scott took his place, sitting closer to Peter than he was used to anyone sitting, and the dip in the couch suddenly had him falling into the man's thigh. "Mr. Scott! Could you move over please?" Suddenly the dip was gone and Peter was left staring at a tiny man, smaller than the boy, staring up at him and waving. "Sorry about that. I forget what it's like, you know, to be small. Think this is a better match?" Peter smiled and nodded, lifting the remote over to Scott and hit the play button. "But, will you be able to reach the buttons?" Hope came over and sat on the other side of the two. "Don't worry about that." She clicked her belt and a red disk came out of a small segment. She placed it on the remote and clicked a small device in her hand and the remote suddenly was gone! "That should be better, and if it doesn't work, then that's even better." She smiled smugly at where she thought Scott was, imagining him glaring up at her. The little teen sat next to his remote, dragging the joystick over to his side and they started the race. Unfortunately, Scott's controller did work, and that meant he was able to beat Peter, leaving Clint groaning in the background. "This is so not fair! Now I have to win my title back from two people!" The sound of a car pulling up to the house made everyone stop. Scott grew to his natural height and on instinct grabbed Peter, hiding him in his fist, thumb pressing his head down. "Sorry little man, but I can't risk you being put in danger, not when we're so close to fixing you." He brought his fist down to his waist, glancing at Hope. Pepper brought her wristband up to her mouth and whispered "Tony?" "What's up, Pep? We're still on the road." That made the woman's mouth go dry. "There's someone else here," she whispered. She moved closer to Scott in order to grab Peter if things went south. "Oh, shit!" Happy cried. "I forgot to tell you May was on her way. She was attacked at her apartment by one of Toomes' goons." The woman's shoulders dropped from relief and then there was a pounding on the door. "Hello? Is this the Barton residence?" Another knock. "Hello?" Pepper rushed to the door and threw it open, revealing the haphazard looking woman. "Oh May, I'm so sorry no one called you...with everything that happened, we just weren't thinking." May glared at the CEO. "Where is my nephew?" "He's inside, and he's safe. Like I said, I apologize for everything. This happened unexpectedly, May." The woman nodded and entered when Pepper stepped aside to allow her entry and found herself staring at some new faces as well as some very familiar ones. "Hello, everyone." Peter started wiggling in Scott's hand as he heard his aunt's voice. "May!" he called, beginning to sweat in the hot confines of the fist. "May! Over here!" he called again. It took a minute for Scott to guess he wanted out and opened his hand to let Peter breathe. "May?" The woman rushed over to her nephew, tears filling her eyes. "Oh, Peter....I was so afraid." She grabbed him, bringing him up to her cheek to nuzzle him. "Are you hurt? What happened?" Peter hugged May's cheek then pulled away. "I was taken from the compound by a classmate's father! He just picked me up and threw me into a briefcase! He was so big, he looked like a monster!" His voice cracked from the high pitch he used. "But then, he brought me to like this junkyard in the middle of the city where I got away and Mom-I mean Pepper," his face went red at the slip up, but he continued, hoping May didn't catch that. She did, though she let him continue. "She found us, then this whole thing with flying, Ms. Hope was there...it was crazy!" He spread his arms at the last part, eyes wide. "But, I'm okay, May. I promise." "Dinner's ready," Laura said cheerily from the kitchen area, setting up the table. "Pete, honey, I used some of Violet's old doll things for you." His aunt brought him closer to the table and Peter's eyes lit up when he saw he had an actual table set up with a-though large-fork and glass. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Barton." May lowered him to the table and he pulled out the tiny seat, looking as if it were made just for him. "This is great! I feel normal again." The he looked up to see everyone's giant faces staring at him. "Sort of." His aunt smiled and took a seat at the table, accepting a plate and slowly adding things to it. She went to ask Peter what he wanted, but it seemed Pepper was already there, filling his small plate with food. Her nephew laughed so easily with her it made her feel a little jealous. "Peter? Juice?" she asked, smiling when he nodded. And that was the way dinner went for the group, with laughter and talking. May even took over doing the dishes, not taking no for an answer. She of course kept Peter by her side, watching the little teen like a hawk, loathe to let him out of her sight. And the others understood, not even trying to take the boy from her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tony checked his watch for the twentieth time in the past half hour, letting out an exasperated sigh. "How much longer," he whined to Happy, who was gripping the wheel tightly. "We'll get there when we get there," the guard grit out. He thought Morgan would be bad, but she was the best one in the car. It was the adults getting on his nerves. "This is boring. I'm taking a nap," Tony sighed, aggravated. "Well, how about you fly yourself and your child to the farm and get there faster so you won't have to be bored and Bruce and I will get there later." "Shh, I'm sleeping." The billionaire had his eyes closed, head leaning against the window. He smirked when he heard Happy grumble to himself about childish bosses. But, the fact was, he was worried after the phone call from Pepper. He knew it was just May, but he couldn't help but wonder how his wife was doing. She was the light of his life, and if anything were to happen to her, or his family, he didn't know what he would do. Tony would literally die to protect what he had. He'd even had a dream where he actually had fought someone and ultimately made the biggest sacrifice, his life, to save them. Everyone was there, even Peter in that dream, only he was normal sized. It broke his heart to hear everyone cry for him, but he felt happy he'd saved everything. He just didn't want to have that dream again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The group stayed up as late as they could, or at least Peter did. By the time midnight hit, the boy was slumping over on Clint's shoulder where he was perched, leaning against the man's neck. It was the warmest place to be and he actually liked the way he walked, with practically no jarring motions, just a slight sway that helped lull him into the sate he was in now. Clint must have noticed, because in the next second, a finger was pushing the teen awake, Peter having to blink a few times. "Hey, kid, why don't you get some sleep, hm? I'm sure we have somewhere you can rest for the night." "I'll take him," May said abruptly as Pepper went to get up. "I was getting tired anyway. Had a long drive to get here." She forced a yawn out. Pepper smiled understandingly. "We have two guest rooms open," Laura said, watching her husband hand off the finger sized child to the brunette woman. "I'll show you where you can sleep. If you don't mind sharing, Natasha will have to sleep in the same room." May looked towards the redhead and nodded. "Of course, I don't mind. The more the merrier, as they say," she laughed. "No, I think I'll be good where I usually stay," the redhead said, turning a faint pink from a catcall from Clint. Laura elbowed her husband and nodded. "Okay, okay, down boy. This way." She lead May upstairs to the first door on the left. "It's this one. Sorry it isn't much, but there's room for a cot and a bathroom attached if you need it." Laura showed the woman where everything was, then noticed her lack of bags. "I have something that will fit you, if you want to take a shower." May nodded vigorously. "Yes, please. Thank you so much." She sat on the bed, then raised Peter to eye level. "You okay, honey?" The boy nodded. "Yeah. I'm just glad you're here, May. I'm....I'm scared." It was hard to admit that to anyone, but he was. The reality of the situation was really getting to him. "I'm tired of being this size. I want to be normal again, go to school with my friends..." His voice broke, but no tears came. "It's so scary to be the height of someone's foot...one misstep, and that's the end...I thought I was used to it, but seeing everyone towering above me from the floor, I was reminded how tiny I am now, and it scared me..." His chin wobbled. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry I can't say I know how you feel, but know that from now on, I will be here, no matter what. I'll even take that room at Mr. Stark's big, fancy building." Peter let out a wet laugh and nodded. "Thank you, May. I..I really appreciate this." "You're family, honey." At that moment a knock interrupted the family moment and Laura came back into the room holding a night shift. "This was all I could find at such short notice. I have to catch up on the wash, and as you know, with kids you can't ever catch up." May laughed. "Tell me about it. But, I wouldn't trade it for the world." She put Peter on the bed and sent him a soft smile. "Once I'm done, we'll find something for you to wear so you can get washed up, too, okay?" The boy nodded and watched the woman walk into the bathroom. He was left alone for a moment until Natasha walked into the room. Instantly the boy froze where he was, his eyes focused on the extremely frightening woman. "Hello, Peter," she said in a dulcet tone. "H-hello, Miss Natasha." He was nervous now, being the in the room alone with her. He watched her close the door and gulped. "Do you need something?" Natasha shook her head, walking around the room. "No. I'm just checking out the room. Very...cozy." Finally she came towards the bed, all the while staring at Peter with an intense look, seeing the boy cower from her. She had a pang of guilt for that and lowered her eyes with a sigh. "Look," she began, squatting next to the bed to be on the boy's level. She took all of him in in a second, focusing on his side where the obvious slice was now just a simple angry red line. "I know I haven't been the...nicest to you. I ignored you most of the time. But, can you blame me? You came out of a Hydra lab without a scratch. But, now I know, you're just a regular kid that has some unfortunate luck." She then looked to his side again. "Looks like that hurt," she nodded towards the line. Peter shrugged and played with the tattered edging on his side. Natasha chuckled and put her hands on the bed. "I won't hurt you. Just know, if you ever need a hand with anything, I'll be there. Promise." She then lifted her hand and extended her pinky, smirking at the boy. The teen studied her eyes for a moment, then slowly brought his hand out, extending his pinky and touching it to the woman's much larger one, staring at the vast difference in their sizes for a moment before his face went red when he realized this was such a childish thing to do. "Thank you," he said lowering his hand. "Not a problem. I'll even make you a new outfit tonight, okay? It'll be ready when you wake up." "No, Miss Natasha! You don't have to do that, I'm fine, I promise!" His eyes widened at the thought of the giant woman sitting and taking time out of her night to make something for him. "Hush it, kid. You'll need something other than that." She rose to her feet just as the bathroom door opened and May came out, freezing when she spotted the woman. "Oh, hello Ms. Romanoff. If you're tired, you can have the bed. I'll ask Mr. Barton where the cot is." "No, don't worry about me, I'll be up for a while. I'll bring in the cot, though, this way I don't wake you later. Hope will be up in a minute, though." With that she left the room, but poked her head into the room, staring right at Peter. "Oh, and it's not miss Natasha. Call me Aunt Nat," she said with a smile and chuckled at the red color the boy turned.

@sparrowrider @midas-or-khaos @letsbeinspiredby @6inchicon @ixlovexirondad @carttorchdeatth

#G/t #Iron Man Tony Stark #iron dad #Spideyson #shrunkpeterparker #nokinks #justfluff #morgan stark #MamaPepperPotts #protectiveavengers #theitsybitsyspider #Marvelfanfic

16 notes · View notes

eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

Play Though?

(Dad!M’Baku x Reader)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This kind of came to me from the movie Claudine with Diahann Carroll? The characters are gonna have the same sort of attitudes as the main one in that movie. A relationship that isn’t a storybook one, swept off of your feet one, but still good. Who wants that perfect love story anyway?

So, Reader is a single parent and one day in the park meets someone that steals her concentration. The rest is below...

You rub your temples as you hear the clatter of metal and plastic banging around in your brain. Throbbing pain emanates from your skull as you get up and head to the kitchen, walking over the land mines of hot wheel cars, Legos, and army men figures scattered about your living room carpet.

“Mama! I have a big race to do! Wanna see?” The gleaming, round faced, mahogany toned golden child that is your son asks.

You put on a weak but sincere smile as you pour some water to and shake a couple aspirin in your hand. “I do want to see, Xavier. Just give mama a minute to get a drink first.”

“Ok. Mama, can I have some juice?” Xavier gets up, trotting into the kitchen to the fridge.

You stop mid sip, reaching out to keep him from opening the fridge. “What did I say about getting something before I tell you to?”

Xavier’s large brown eyes widen even more as he knows what to say. “You say to wait.”

Nodding, you continue. “Wait for mama to say yes or no. Now get off the door and ask me again.” You cap the aspirin and put it in the cabinet.

Xavier fidgets with his hands, spinning in a circle as he spoke. “Can I have some juice mamaaaa.”

You cross your arms, smiling devilishly. “After you clean up all those toys in there.”

Xavier makes a stink face, coming over to hug your legs. “I want to play still.”

“I thought you wanted juice?” You ask, examining the life expectancy or the braids he’s been wearing.

“Uh huh, but-”

“Then you need to clean up your toys.” Pointing him towards the living room, you dig for your phone to double check your shopping list. “You should anyway, we’re going to the store to get some stuff for dinner. You’ve had nuggets three times this week, and probably more including daycare.”

Xavier noisily throws his toys in the bin one at a time. “Uh uh! Ms. Adams gave us fries one day, and-and pizza!”

You roll your eyes as you scroll your phone. “That’s not a balanced diet, X. They don’t teach you about eating fruits and vegetables yet?”

Xavier clangs his cars hard into their bin, annoying you to the nth degree. “Xavier, you got one more time to throw that in there ‘fore I light you up. Clean up right!”

Xavier hangs his head, braids curtain his face as he slumps to pick up each toy and put them in the tub, painstakingly slow. You rest your head on your fist, jiggling your foot as you watch him get on your nerves in the most minute ways. Xavier peers over at you periodically whenever he goes to pick up a toy to see what you’re doing but you remain unphased, waiting patiently as he wastes your time and his own. What a five year old has to have an attitude about is beyond your thoughts to grasp.

“Xavier Maurice, you have two minutes to pick up the rest of these toys from off this floor, otherwise you are not getting any juice, or iPad time for the day. It’s your choice.”

Xavier moos at your ultimatum, picking up his pace only slightly, but scooping his toys by the handful. You would correct him on his tone, but he caught you on a good day. One thing your son has taught you is how to pick your battles.

The sun was shining and the air felt warm for a change, so you and Xavier walked down to the nearby farmer’s market you’ve been meaning to try out. The place is packed with whites in cargo shorts and Columbia fleece jackets as you calmly peruse the array of tomatoes, cucumbers, oranges, apples, fresh herbs, homemade pastas, and all other artisanal, organic ingredients you could get your hands on. Xavier was not having it, doing his best to remain calm but he is five.

“Mama, where are the PopTarts? And-and cereals?” He whines, reaching for an onion on the bottom row of a stack. You swiftly stop him, preventing what would have been an avalanche on him and a hefty guilt bill for you.

“Hey! Same rules at home, apply out here. Don’t touch anything.” You smell a pear just for the hell of it. The possibilities were endless for you to make some sensible and fulfilling meals for the two of you, but you also had to think realistically about Xavier’s picky eater status and your limited time to cook during the week. They may not have had PopTarts, but you found some homemade ice cream that seemed decent enough to try.

After you put together a good looking basket full of items and pay, you head back to your house to get things started. Xavier helps you carry a bunch of bananas in a bag when a nearby park catches his eye.

“Mama! Can I go play there?” Xavier asks, bouncing on his toes.

You look to the playground area. It wasn’t very crowded and he could probably run off some energy to earn a nap later.

You fake like you’re thinking hard, making Xavier beg even more, sticking out his pink bottom lip. You couldn’t torture your baby any longer.

“Fine, go ahead. But stay on the playground, don’t go off with anybody. And if I call you cuz I can’t see you, you better come to me, ok?”

Xavier nods happily, shoving the fruit at you before booking it across the grass and through a gap in the hedges lining the park’s perimeter to get to the bright colored construction.

You take this time to sit back on a park bench, feeling the coolness of the wood against your legs and back, mixed with the warmth of the sun beaming down.

This actually wasn’t a bad idea in the grand scheme of things. You got time to enjoy nature, sit down as your child is occupied, giving the screen time a break for the both of you. And you can people watch, which is your favorite pastime. There are two white women chatting in deep conversation as you see a blonde hair girl lick a rock before tossing it to the ground, and brunette one hanging from the monkey bars falling hard on her back, head bouncing off of the concrete. She starts to scream bloody murder, but when she gets up, you assume it is from embarrassment more than pain. Her mother’s neck whips around to find her before scooping her up and cooing at her questions, asking if she is alright, etc.

Looking past them, you see a little Black girl swinging on the swing set, hair in braided pigtails held by bobbles, smiling widely as her little legs kicked to build up her momentum. Behind her is a man. And by man, you mean a MAN. Dark wash jeans that accentuated his thick legs; clean chocolate sneakers on his feet; and dark brown Henley shirt that took on the privileged task of masking the full extent of his broad shoulders and impressive chest; dark brown leather jacket.

You suddenly feel very aware of your T-shirt with a questionable stain that you hid with an old university jacket and your old worn out jeans that Xavier scribbled on once and you tossed on in a hurry. This guy looked like the last person you would expect to be pushing a little girl in a swing at a park. More like pushing you up against a wall and-

“Mama! Come push me!”

The sound of your child calling out to you snapped you from your sudden romance novel fantasy and you picked up your bag and headed over to the swing set. You tried to avoid looking at the man pushing the giggly little girl in front of him as you took your spot behind your son.

“I’m gonna go higher! You’ll see!” Xavier taunts the little girl as he grips the chains awaiting your assistance. She sticks her tongue out while gliding toward the sky.

“X, be nice! This isn’t a competition.” You say as motherly as you can, without an inkling of a sour tone.

“Oh it isn’t?” When he spoke, you almost missed your next turn to push Xavier. The deepness of his tone shook you more than you cared to admit, along with an accent you couldn’t place? You were done for.. Looking over at him, you get a full and up close shot of his appearance. His smile is youthful and inviting despite his large appearance, with the gap in his teeth you would’ve laughed but not to be rude. It just brought out your playfulness and made your brain melt as you tried to multitask.

Laughing stupidly, you say, “Well, I mean, swinging isn’t a sport or game. You just swing and enjoy it.”

He shrugs, pushing the little girl as she cackled at her speed of motion.

“Harder mama! I wanna go higher!” Xavier demands.

“You heard him Mama, harder!” He says with a slick smile, as he also pushes his child with more force. You shook the implication of innuendo from your mind as you pushed Xavier farther.

“Listen, I’m getting tired of both of y’all telling me what to do. Men, I swear.” You murmur under your breath, looking at he sideways.

“Oh like women are so easy to please? This little girl has had me up since 7 am with her tea parties and Doc McStuffin reruns and baby shark. All I can say is ‘yes ma’am, of course sweetheart’.”

“As it should be.” You chide him. Xavier’s laughter is at its peak excitement as he passes the little girl on one swing.

“I told you, I got you!” Xavier says.

“X!”

“Baba!” The little girl bellows out all of a sudden, dragging her heels across the gravel to bring herself to a stop. So that is his child, you thought.

“Yes, ọmọbinrin?” He asks, kneeling down to her level beside her. She put her small hands to either side of his face looking very serious.

“I want to be alone now. You embarrassed me in front of my friend.” She gets up and goes over to Xavier who stops his swing to. She takes his hand and escorts him to the sandbox.

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you snort. He looks up at you, slowly getting up.

“You find that funny?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

You try your best to look serious but you can’t help it. “Um, ahem. I mean, hey you are right. Nothing but ‘yes ma’am’ with that little girl. You are wrapped around her fingers and toes, Mr….”

He kisses his teeth, looking over at them. “M’Baku Rotimi. And maybe so. But I’d rather have it that way. She doesn’t cower from people who test her, like her daddy.” M’Baku puffs his chest out slightly for mass effect.

You ignore the twitch you feel at when he says ‘daddy’, trying to stay cool as you look away. “How old is she?”

“Jolasun four, going on 40, very mature and bossy like a certain Miss....” M’Baku mutters anticipating your response as you give him your name.

He looks you up and down slightly. “And your boy, X?”

“Xavier. Five, and every bit of it. It’s funny, he seems to follow your little girl’s word more than my own.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse. You might want to warn him about that, Pretty girls grabbing ahold of his attention too quick. Happens to the best of us.” M'Baku says scratching the back of his neck, looking at you like he has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You laugh in a way that was supposed to be condescending but comes out more like a seagull caught in barb wire.

“Oh am I supposed to pick up on something with that statement?” You ask in a challenging tone.

M’Baku puts his hands in his pockets, taking a small step towards you. “No, no, I’m not a poet, nor do I beat around the bush. You are very beautiful and witty, with a son who looks well taken care of.”

You take a step back, flustered but cool on the surface. “Yeah, of course, because I know how to do that.”

“Alone?” M’Baku asks inquisitively, cocking his head to the side. You exhale sharply, flabbergasted as you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably get going. I have to make dinner and stuff so…” You turn to pick up your bag and soon as you do, the ice cream falls out, along with other items. It’s condensation from its container worked a hole in the bottom of the paper sack, rendering it useless.

“Fuck!” You curse, picking up the too soft ice cream.

“Here, I can help you with that.” M'Baku picks up the bag carefully, using the other side of the bag that is hole-less, balancing so the contents don’t fall out the top. You have what spilled outside of it already.

“God, you don’t have to do that!” You say, attempting to take the bag out of his embrace.

He lifts it higher, turning from you. “Eh! I feel at least a bit responsible talking your ear off, please. Allow me.”

His eyes are sincere enough, you thought. It’s not like you watched Dateline the night before and saw something about people using children as bait for kidnapping women. You shake the notion out of your head, figuring you’re being a little paranoid.

“I don’t live far, unless you drove.”

“We don’t live far either, so it’s fine; she felt like walking today. Jolasun!”

“Xavier! Come on, we gotta go!”

“Can Jola come with us, mama!?” Xavier asks out loud as they dust sand off of themselves.

“Yeah, she and her Dad are coming, hurry up!” You bellow, thanking M'Baku again cautiously as you all walked to your place.

The weather almost felt like summer by the time you got back, kicking off your shoes as you and M'Baku plop the goods on the counter as you wiped your brow and caught your breath. Xavier and Jolasun run for the bin of toys.

“Xavier, I don’t want a mess. You can watch TV, no toys right now.”

Xavier is barely phased by the change in plans as he gets the remote, expertly selecting his choice of programs.

M'Baku puts the ice cream in the fridge as you start organizing the food in their proper places. “Thanks again. God that woulda been a mess without you.”

M'Baku unpacks the bananas. “It’s all good. You seemed a little off balance, so I figured this might tip you over if I didn’t help.”

You scoff as you shut your fridge door. “Off balance? What does that mean?”

M'Baku takes a breath before ripping an imitation of your seagull squawk with embellished eyelash batting and a hair flip.

“What? What is all of that? I don’t sound like that either.” You say, offended but entertained.

M'Baku leans on the counter peering at you suavely. “Maybe not exactly like that, sure. Can I make it up to you with showing how to use some of these ingredients you bought?”

You put a hand on your hip, pointing a loaf of bread at him. “Now you have stepped over the line. I can cook burn my own kitchen down, thanks.”

M'Baku chuckles. Looking in the living room at the kids who have gone quiet except for the TV. “I am trying to impress you, but you’re taking it as an offense. The saying is, what is it…’thou doth protest too much’?.”

You roll your eyes walking around him to see what the children were up to. Looking over the couch, you can tell they were slumped in a way that for sure meant they were asleep. Before you could confirm, you feel a sharp pain in your foot.

“AGH-” you exclaim, before clamping your mouth with you hand and bouncing back. You feel M'Baku’s hand on your side, the other holding our arm to keep you steady. His touch is hot on you, his body must run naturally warm, you noted; hands rough but gentle and careful when holding you. His close proximity to you helped you to realize how good he smelled; earthy and natural with a clean laundry finish.

“Are you hurt? What was that?” M'Baku asked, but you hushed him as he spoke, pointing and mouthing that the kids were asleep. He gets wide eyed and mouths an “oh”, letting you go to pick up the spare army man that Xavier neglected to pick up this morning.

You sat on a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the bottom of your foot as you watch him bend over, some skin exposing on his lower back exposing how even toned his melanin is and you are thankful.

“I would offer to help you clean but you may not like that either.” M'Baku says, dropping the toy in its proper place.

You roll your eyes so deep you see your brain. “Sir, I will never say no to free maid service if you are offering, but my son couldn't care less how many legos stab the soles of my feet.”

As he walked over to join you at the table, M'Baku lays a hand daintily on your knee. “I am at your service. If that means I am seeing you for a second date, I would be honored.”

“Second?” Your voice rises as you question him, watching him smile. You are really beginning to love that smile. “Let me ask you this: what makes you assume I am available to date? That I don’t have a husband on the way home any minute?”

M’Baku looks around the kitchen. “I see no pictures, you have no ring, and if you did, I would curse him for being so lazy as to not help you with your shopping list.”

You stare at him a moment before scoffing. “You really want to cook for me huh?”

M’Baku throws his hands up. “That would be a great start! I have many vegetarian dishes you would fall in l-”

“Oh, whoa, wait. You? Babe the Blue Ox, is a vegetarian?”

M’Baku twists his lip up at the nickname. “I’m not familiar with the moniker, but I am!”

“Is that what life is like from wherever you are?”

“Kansas? Yes, of course.” M’Baku rests his chin on his fist, looking at you innocently before breaking with a smile.

Your body relaxes as you tap the table with your fingertips thinking over your options. A man you met on the playground, gorgeous and foreign man, wants to see you again and make you dinner. Without any weird vibes, bad lines, or perverse insinuations?

“Mama?”

You snap to look in the living room, seeing a little hand stretch up from the couch. “Can I have juice now?” You spring up, thankful for the distraction to go check on your son. Jolasun is rubbing her eyes as well.

“Sure thing baby, you’ve earned it. Mama will have some too, she’s kind of thirsty all of a sudden. Jolasun, you want some?” You ask, grabbing some grape juice to pour.

“I think we’ll just head out actually. It’s been good, you’ve got dinner to cook.” M'Baku answers, getting up to go over and pick Jolasun up in his arms.

You didn’t even feel like cooking, especially now when there were two broad, strong spare hands ready to light your taste buds on fire. “If you truly have somewhere to be, yeah, no problem.”

“Can Jolasun come over again?” Xavier asks looking up at M'Baku with his cup in his hand. Jolasun’s head springs off her dad’s shoulder to glare at him, making M'Baku laugh. “If Jolasun is good with it, I think we can arrange something.” Jolasun smiles, giving Xavier a thumbs as he smiles with purple juice stained lips.

“So, we can all just….meet up again sometime in the future. Make plans between us, and that should be fun!” You say informally, trying to keep things casual, no mentions of a date to roll of your tongue.

M'Baku’s eyes light up as he hugs his daughter winking at you. “Good, it’s a date. Take my number down and we can talk.”

You sink into the floor, submitting your number into his device as he asked. So much for avoiding the ‘D’ word. You all say your goodbyes then, closing the door and feeling like you can breathe for the first time all day as you plop on the couch. But you still feel an extreme amount of energy. Now you have a date to plan, but how long has it been since you’ve been on one? What would you wear? Should you buy more food for him to work with? And shit! He is a vegetarian! Xavier don’t care about not a ne’er vegetable!

“Mama, that was fun! I can’t wait to see them soon!” Xavier exclaims jumping in your lap with all of his weight.

You wince at his knees in your thighs, picking him up and lightly slamming him down on the pillows in retaliation. “Ohh! I can’t either, X.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@yaachtynoboat711 @chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat @sarcastic-sunshines @great-neckpectations @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689

(This will be a series, so just ask if you wanna be tagged!)

#m'baku fic #m'baku x reader #shakafic #black panther fic #fanfi

164 notes · View notes