#like joke’s on her because he died with no life insurance & two months before he was able to collect his pension. so there was bugger all

[fingertipsmp3]

My sister messaged me

[stray-tickles]

Letters

Read on AO3

“Hey, Commander.” Eiffel stuck his head through the door to the bridge. “Are you busy? Got a sec?”

Minkowski looked up from the monitor. “Yeah, what’s up?”

He floated in, looking somewhat sheepish. “I- I had an idea, but it’s kind of a downer, if you’d rather…”

She rolled her eyes. “Just spit it out.”

Eiffel stared out of the window to avoid looking at her. “This- this is way worse than we knew when we signed up for it. I was thinking about Lovelace’s old logs, and…” He sighed heavily. “We don’t know if we’re all gonna make it home.”

“We are.”

“We don’t know that.” He stressed. “And I- her crew. Some of them wrote letters to go back.” Now he did turn his head to meet her gaze. “We both have people back on Earth that we’d… I thought, if you want, we could do an exchange. Just in case.”

Minkowski narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like this kind of talk. “I’ve already decided that we’re going to make it back. You’re under direct orders to do so.”

Eiffel laughed quietly. “And I’ve always been super at following orders.” He laced his fingers together. “Look, I’m not giving up, I swear. It’s just for insurance.” Because he sometimes lay awake thinking about Anne and all the things he wanted to say to her. How if he died, he’d never get to. He cleared his throat, so he didn’t sound too choked up. “For peace of mind.”

The thought of Dominik had been on her mind, ever since she’d found out they were officially dead. If that death wound up being real… It would be nice to be able to say goodbye. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. I can’t say I haven’t thought about… having insurance sounds good.” Especially when she’d already promised herself that Eiffel was getting back to Earth come hell or high water. “Anything you want me to take back, I’ll do it.”

“Okay.” Eiffel relaxed. “And you too. I mean out of the two of us I know what kind of chance I stand but… insurance, right?”

“Yeah.”

She’d have to write an apology for him too. For insurance.

--

Things were… okay. Doug could see that they’d all been through a lot, but given it was going to take them a few months to reach Earth, they were okay. Renée was getting stronger by the day, recovering from her gunshot wound, and he only occasionally caught her or Isabel looking at him in that heartbroken kind of way.

Despite what he’d heard of the logs, it seemed like he meant a lot to them. He’d get the hang of it eventually. They were easy to like.

Renée had been up and about for a couple of days when Hera gently reminded him that he needed to wash his clothes. He knew that, but at the same time, it had slipped his mind.

It was only in changing out of his filthy jumpsuit that he found a stack of envelopes stuck to the inside, tied together with an elastic band.

He removed it and flicked through them. Had he left something for himself?

Mom, Dad, Dominik… Eiffel. That one had his name on it. He stared at it. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, but nothing was familiar to him right now. Should he ask about it? Who would he ask? He didn’t want to bring up anything painful for the others.

Besides, he thought as he opened the envelope and slid out the folded paper within, it was addressed to him.

‘Hey Eiffel,

I guess if you’re reading this, I’m dead. I don’t think you’d expect me to write one of these for you, but then again, maybe you wouldn’t expect for you to be the one to make it home out of the two of us either. I don’t know what happened, but I promised myself a while ago that I’d make sure you made it back safe before anything else. I hope you’re not going back alone, but if you are, I’m glad it’s you.

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say. Something heartfelt and meaningful, of course, but there’s so much. And so little. Thank you for being here. I’d never admit it to your face, but your dumb jokes were only dumb some of the time. Thank you for being my friend. I want you to have a good life back on Earth. I hope you can hug Anne again, and I hope you keep trying. I hope there’s a new Star Wars movie waiting for you. I hope you get that pizza, and you get to really enjoy it.’

He was crying. Doug wiped his eyes on his sleeve to keep from blotting the paper and tried not to think too hard about why he was crying.

‘If it’s not too morbid, maybe you can look for Wolf 359 in the sky some time. By the time you’re back, you might be able to see the day we arrived. If you do, tell past me to relax a bit. To appreciate her dumbass Communications Officer more. Tell her that he’ll become one of the most important people in the universe to her, and that I need her to get him home.

I hope, if you are reading this, that it’s an accident, and you’re making fun of me. I’d happily play keep-away with you if we all make it back safely.

Signing off,

Renée Minkowski’

The tears were coming full force now, along with a crushing ache in his chest like someone had grabbed his heart and squeezed. Doug released his grip on the letter and fell back onto his bed, clapping his hands over his mouth as the sobbing started. It hurt, why did it hurt so much? What even was it that hurt this much?

“Doug?” It was Hera.

Oh. Hera. Hera.

He was shaking. A lot. He couldn’t seem to stop doing that any more than he could stop crying and gasping for air. He hoped Hera wasn’t too worried. She spent too much of her time trying to protect him. Oh. Where did that thought come from?

“Doug, are you okay?”

Protecting him. Why was she protecting him? He remembered being cold, feeling clumps of hair coming off in his hands. He remembered… being lost.

“Douglas Eiffel!”

He was… dying? Had been dying? He was trapped in a tiny space with no way out, cold and bleeding and alone and…

“EIFFEL!”

He gasped, coming back to himself. “S-sorry!” He gasped, the shaking easing off marginally.

“What is going on?!” Hera demanded, agitated. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Doug swallowed against the lump in his throat. He remembered Hera. He remembered being lost in space. He remembered the deep pit of loneliness in his chest. “I’m fine, Hera, thanks.”

“Then tell me what is happening with you! You looked like you were having a seizure!”

“I’m okay.” He rubbed his hands over his face, eyes stinging from the tears. “Don’t worry about it, it’s… it’s fine.” He couldn’t tell them yet. This was so small. Isabel was still a blur, never mind Renée.

He was starting to understand why she’d been so sad.

Hera, predictably, didn’t listen. “Either you tell me what’s going on right now or I’m calling the others.”

“Hera…”

“Now.”

He sighed. “Okay, okay, just… you’ve gotta promise not to tell them.”

“Fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, I promise.”

Doug took a breath. “I think… I remembered something.”

Hera was silent for a few long seconds. When she spoke, she sounded breathless. “Are- are you sure?”

He groaned. “No, I- was I… lost? It felt like a nightmare, I was so cold and alone and maybe dying? I don’t know what that even means.”

“You- were lost.” Hera said quietly. “You were on a shuttle lost in space for… a long time. You used the cryogenic pod to survive.”

“Oh. That sounds right.”

“Anything else?”

Doug wrapped his arms around himself. “I think I remember you? Nothing specific, but… I remember that you- you’re stubborn and caring and- and you make me happy.”

Hera made a sound that could have been a sob.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No!” She exclaimed. “No, I- that’s right. I think.” She seemed to take a moment to brace herself. “You- you make me happy too.”

“Oh.” Doug smiled to himself. “That’s nice.” It felt nice. He felt warm.

“We should tell the others.” Hera said decisively.

He balked. “What- no!”

“Doug?” She sounded genuinely confused.

He sighed heavily. “Just- what if that’s all I remember? I don’t- I don’t remember Renée or Isabel o-or Daniel, what if I never do?” He sagged. “I’ve seen the way they look at me. I- if I don’t remember… I don’t wanna hurt them. They’re okay right now. If I don’t remember them, we- we’ll be okay.”

“I… I understand.” Hera sighed. She didn’t like it, but she understood. “What triggered this? You were reading something, what was that?”

“Oh.” He looked over at the letter floating in the middle of his room. “It’s… Renée. She wrote me a letter. I don’t know, I just… found it. There’s others but I don’t recognise them.”

“Oh.” Hera breathed. “Yes, you two made an agreement a while ago. In case one of you didn’t survive, the other would be able to deliver them to their loved ones.”

For some reason hearing her say that, hearing the words ‘loved ones’ in reference to something addressed to him sent another white-hot jolt through his heart. “Oh.” He said in a small voice, quickly wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry.” Hera murmured. “I wish I could give you a hug.”

Doug sniffled. “Me too.” He said, and grabbed one of the pillows from his bed, hugging it tightly to his chest. “I’ll pretend this is you, for now.”

“Thank you.” Hera said affectionately. “It does look very cozy.” She vowed to herself that she’d get one of the others to give him a hug for her as soon as they’d gotten to the bottom of this.

--

When things came back to him, they first came back as feelings. It turned out to be a good thing to tell Hera, because she was great at helping him make sense of it all.

“Hera? Was I… super mad at Renée about something?”

Hera snorted. “Well yes, at some point over the last few years, but you might want to be more specific.”

Even without his memories, Doug got the joke. “Ha, yeah I guess. I don’t know, it was like. Like she was leaving me behind.” He muttered the last few words. That sour feeling came with them.

“Or like she was sending you away?”

He huffed. “Yeah.”

“Yes, you were mad at her about that, not long before…”

He looked down, trying not to ignore the feeling. The feeling of the door as he pounded on it. The sound of her voice, guilty but determined. The helplessness of knowing that almost everyone important to him was back there and he was leaving.

“She… tried to send me back. To Earth. By myself.” Eiffel looked up. “Right?”

“Yes.” Hera admitted. “She said that if we failed… someone would need to warn the rest of humanity of what was going to happen.”

“Right.”

She sighed. “But I- I think she mostly did it because she cares about you. Wanted to keep you safe.”

“Oh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That kind of backfired, huh.”

“You’re still here.” Hera reminded him. “That’s enough.”

--

A few days later, Doug woke in the middle of the night with tears streaking his face. Feelings, what was the feeling?

Guilt. Horror. Despair. The sound of sirens and the smell of metal and blood.

He sniffled. “H-Hera?”

“Yes? Yes, I’m here.” He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the pale blue light that seemed to fill whatever space she was in. “Are you okay, Doug?”

He wiped his eyes. “D-did I almost get my daughter killed?”

Oh. “Doug…”

“Please. Please just tell me.” He felt wrung out. He felt like the worst person alive. He felt like he didn’t want his memories back anymore.

“Yes.” Hera whispered. “It was an accident, you…”

He swallowed thickly. “I was drunk.” Shame. The memory of his little girl’s face, how she’d looked the last time he saw her, bleeding and injured.

“Yeah. But you didn’t mean to hurt her, a-and-”

“Enough.” He said flatly. “Please. I- I think I need to be alone now.”

“Eiffel…”

“Thanks for telling me.”

--

Memories of Anne snowballed into memories of Renée. Of her not talking to him, and how much that had hurt. How it had only hurt more when he found out why, even though he knew she was right to. How the pain mattered because… because she was important to him. He knew that before, but he felt it now.

Hera helped fill in the blanks. Reminded him of how they had reconciled. It helped. A little.

He spent as much time with the others as he could. They were good people, and regardless of whether he remembered them better or not, he wanted to be with them.

It was with that in mind that he made two cups of coffee and set out to find Renée. He knew from the recording about how they had lost coffee, and how much he had missed it. Maybe she had too.

He found her alone on the bridge and carefully floated over, cups in hand. “Coffee?”

Minkowski nearly jumped out of her skin in fright. “Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!”

Doug blinked and looked around confusedly. “Who?”

He was even more confused when Renée started laughing.

“S-sorry!” She giggled, one hand trying to cover her mouth. “It’s n-not funny.” It wasn’t, he’d forgotten everything, why was she laughing?

Well, he did have a way of getting under her skin, even now. She forced deep breaths, the laughter petering out, and noticed that Doug was giving her an odd look. “What?”

He shook himself. “Oh, uh, nothing.” He held out a mug.

“Thanks.” She said, taking it gratefully. “But seriously, what?”

He shrugged. “It’s just… nice to see you happy.”

Oh. She smiled into her coffee. How was she supposed to respond to that? “Sorry if I’ve been kind of a downer.”

“Nonono! You- you’ve been through a lot, it’s to be expected.” Doug knew he was a big part of that. Still, he couldn’t shake the warm, proud feeling inside sparked from making her laugh. That had happened before, hadn’t it?

Renée sighed, feeling herself relax that bit more. “Still. I’m glad you’re here.” She tried to come off as casual. “You gonna keep me company?”

He smiled. “Only if you want me to, Minkowski.”

She stared at him, and he realised he’d messed up. “Oh, I- that’s right, right? In the recordings…” He didn’t mention how natural it felt to call her that.

“Yeah.” She said quietly. “That’s right.”

“Cool.”

Minkowski cleared her throat. “And I… yes. I’d like you to stay.”

Eiffel smiled. “Cool.”

--

It was nice spending the time with Renée. They talked about nothing in particular, looked at the stars, drank their coffee. That proud, happy feeling in his stomach didn’t go away, in fact it got stronger. More memories of her surfaced, of them arguing, her saving him, patting him on the shoulder and wishing him a happy birthday, them laughing together.

He remembered Hera, too. Him staying up half the night chattering away with her about movies and music, her covering for him when he was slacking off, her saving him. Her viciously sarcastic streak. He waited until his door had closed behind him to speak. “Hey, Hera?”

Her voice crackled to life. “Yes?”

Doug smiled to himself. “I love you.”

“Oh!” She glitched. “Did you, um, did you remember something?”

She sounded flustered. It was kind of cute. “Yeah, a bit, from hanging out with Min- Renée. Mostly her, and you.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“And that I love you guys.”

“Okay Doug.”

He grinned. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Are you the bestest AI in the whole wide galaxy?”

“Eiffel!” She squeaked, seemingly incapable of saying anything else.

He chuckled. “I just want to make sure you know.”

“Okay, fine, just shut up!”

“Anything you say, sweetheart.”

--

They were having dinner the next time it happened. Isabel had slathered her food with a bottle of red sauce that Doug didn’t recognise, and when he asked about it, she offered him some. Minkowski gave him a warning look, but, well. He’d never paid those any mind before.

He was so caught up in the euphoria of knowing that, that he swallowed before registering the flavour, and the next thing he knew he was spluttering and coughing from the intense burning in his throat.

Isabel clapped him on the back, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered him some water. “You okay, man?”

Doug nodded weakly, gulping down the water.

Minkowski shook her head but said nothing.

He finished the water, but the feeling in his throat lingered. Burning, stinging. Sticky? No, his throat wasn’t sticky, where had that thought come from?

Hot, sticky, panic. He’d been scared, choking. Dying? Again?

“Hey! You in there?” Isabel waved a hand in front of his eyes.

Oh. Lovelace. She clicked right into place in his mind as if she’d never been missing. Terse, no nonsense, goofy, brave.

An alien?

Yes. She was, yes! Her alien blood had saved his life when he was dying from decima, and again when he was brainwashed.

“Doug!”

He jumped. “Sorry! Sorry, I- uh, zoned out there.”

She seemed concerned. “You sure did! You okay?”

“Yeah,” He swallowed. “Yeah.” Concerned. Why did that ring a bell?

You guys weren’t… actually concerned, were you?

When was that? Why were they concerned? He felt… bad. Guilty and upset. And lonely.

What don't you do? You lie. You keep secrets. You do whatever you want, whenever you want.

Lovelace. And it hadn’t just been her, had it? She was just the first to say something, to tell him what a jackass he was being. He didn’t mean to be, he didn’t even notice!

But he had. To everyone.

Doug stood abruptly. “I, uh, I think I’m done.” He said, trying to not let his emotions show on his face. “Gonna go to bed.”

He didn’t sleep.

--

“You should tell them.”

Doug floundered. “But there’s still so much I can’t remember! Those books, a-and what happened in second grade, the movies!”

Hera sighed. “You’re never going to remember every single thing that happened in your life, you know that. But you remember them, and me, and you remember how much they matter to you. Isn’t that enough?”

It was enough. More than enough, actually. They mattered to him so much, and what was he? He’d hurt everyone who he’d ever cared about. He was useless, lazy, and thoughtless. This couldn’t be the person that they wanted. It just couldn’t. “I need more time.”

Hera didn’t seem to care. “For what? I thought you’d be excited to tell them.”

“I’m not.” He muttered, his heart aching.

Hera paused. “Please.” She said quietly. “Talk to me.”

Eiffel hugged the pillow to his chest and buried his face in it, struggling not to cry. Hera waited patiently.

He let out a shuddering breath. “Hera, I’m… awful.” He whispered. “I almost got my daughter killed, I’ve been terrible to you, to all of you! Why would anyone ever want that guy back?”

“Eiffel…”

He sniffled, blinking back tears. “But that’s it, maybe- maybe they don’t. Wh-what if when we get back…” He was trembling. “What’s the p-point in keeping me around?”

“Because we love you, you idiot!”

“Why? After everything-”

“After everything is the whole point! We’ve been through hell together; you think none of that matters because you made a few mistakes?”

“It’s more than that and you know it.”

“What I know is that you were the first person who made me feel like a person.” Hera said fiercely. “And I won’t let anyone talk about you like that, even you.”

Eiffel hugged the pillow tightly. “Hera…”

She softened. “Are you really worried that the others won’t want you to be part of their lives when we get back?”

He tried to laugh but wound up crying instead. “C’mon. Look at me.”

Hera sighed. “I need to figure out how to do hugs.” She muttered, getting no reaction. “Look, I know you’re scared, and you feel like you- you’re not good enough. But you can’t go on like this. The only way to make that feeling go away is to tell them.”

He fell sideways onto the bed. “I don’t want to.” What even was he, without his crew? He might as well go back to jail.

“I know.” Hera murmured. “I guess the memories about how much we all need you haven’t come back yet.”

“Sure.” Eiffel muttered. He didn’t have the strength to question whether such memories even existed.

--

It took him a day to find the resolve to make the choice, and another after that to figure out how to do this. He’d looked Minkowski and Lovelace in the eye enough times to know that he couldn’t just casually start that conversation.

He owed them the truth, in whatever way he could deliver it.

Eiffel held the letter in trembling hands, looking over it for the hundredth time, trying to absorb some of Minkowski’s strength. It helped somewhat.

‘Thank you for being my friend.’

He’d need to return that sentiment, somehow. When he could.

He shook himself. One thing at a time.

It was a good thing he’d figured out the comms system on the Urania. Eiffel cleared his throat and flicked a switch. “Hey gang.” He said awkwardly. “I- uh- couldn’t think of a good way to do this, so I’m just gonna take the coward’s way out! Anyway, I- I got my memories back, mostly. Yay. That’s all. Um… carry on.”

He could have left the comms room. Part of him wanted to. The nervous energy buzzing under his skin screaming at him to run away, but he stayed. It was done now.

Barely a minute later the door opened, revealing a wide-eyed, out of breath Renée Minkowski. She stared at him. “If this is supposed to be some kind of joke…”

Eiffel felt his nerves melt away. “Hey.” He said softly. “Thanks for the letter.”

It was a good thing that he’d had the foresight to strap himself into the comms seat, because otherwise the two of them would have ended up slammed into the opposite wall from the force that Minkowski launched herself at him. Eiffel managed to catch her as they collided and swallowed his grunt of pain from the tightness of the hug.

He let out a long sigh. This felt right. “Hey.”

Renée took a shaky breath. “Hey.” She managed to loosen her iron grip enough that he’d be able to breathe. Letting go wasn’t on the cards right now. “How did you…”

“Like I said,” He murmured. “Thanks for the letter.”

Oh. She huffed a laugh. “I forgot.”

“Me too.”

She snorted into his shoulder. “Don’t even- it’s too soon to joke about that.”

Eiffel grinned. “Oh yeah? I swear I heard a laugh there.”

Minkowski felt herself smile. “No.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

He was teasing her, and it felt so utterly normal. It was okay. They were going home, Eiffel was here, himself, and they were safe… Wait. “Pryce!” She yelped, drawing back, “Is she-”

Eiffel jumped. “It’s fine, it’s okay!” He said. “And jeez, don’t yell right next to my head.”

“What do you mean it’s fine?”

He sighed. “It’s fine! Hera’s been keeping a really close eye on her. We might have been linked before but… seems like this is just a me thing.”

“Oh, thank god.” There was a scare, and then there was thinking they might be trapped with a pissed off Miranda Pryce. “Wait…” Her eyes narrowed. Hera has been keeping a close eye on her? “How long have you-”

He looked away. “I mean, that’s a complicated-”

“Almost two weeks!” Hera chirped.

“What?”

“Hera!”

Hera was utterly unrepentant. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was just answering the Commander’s question.”

Eiffel groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

“No, I can think of someone who’s worse.” Minkowski growled.

“Ugh, it’s not- look it’s not like everything came back all at once, okay?! I wasn’t gonna say anything if I wasn’t sure it’d stick, or-” He groaned again. “How am I back for five minutes and already being court martialled?”

She forced herself to take a long breath and drop the anger. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I-I just don’t understand.”

Eiffel hugged himself. “Like I said, it was… gradual. I found your letter, but I didn’t know what it was, and it- I don’t know, it triggered something. All I remembered at first was being stuck in cryo, and I thought maybe it was a fluke.”

“And after that?”

She shrugged, not looking at her.

“Eiffel…”

“Oh, it’s nothing really, Commander.” Hera said, a steely edge to her voice. “He’s just upset because we’ll obviously never speak to him again once we get back to Earth.”

“What?!” Now she was incredulous. There was no way he could think that, right?

Apparently he could, because he looked utterly crestfallen at Hera’s words. “Hera, c’mon.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that not what you think?”

He looked like he was about to cry. “Hera…”

Minkowski felt something hard settle in her stomach. No. Absolutely not. “Why would you think that?” She asked, trying her best to keep her voice gentle.

He buried his face in his hands. “Seriously Renée? Have you seen me? I’m terrible. I’ve hurt literally everyone I’ve ever cared about, I’m lazy and rude and shitty.”

The venom in his voice stunned her into silence.

“And you- you’ve got your shit together! What- are you gonna come home and be like ‘hi honey, this is Doug; high school dropout, air force dropout, alcoholic jackass convicted felon, we’re just gonna- gonna hang out?!’”

Doug was crying now. He tried his best to stop, he didn’t need either of them feeling sorry for him. It was his own fault that he’d turned out like this.

A familiar hand took his. Against his better judgement, he looked up at her.

Renée started slowly. “I’ll say, ‘Hello Dominik, I missed you so much that it felt like a hole in the chest. This is Doug Eiffel, he’s my best friend. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have made it back at all, let alone as anything resembling a human being. He’s going to be part of my life now, and if you don’t like it,” She squeezed his hand tightly. “I know my choice.’”

“Wh- no.” He rasped, “Y-you can’t.”

“No, what I can’t do is move on from this and- just let you go. It’s not happening.” She spotted the letter half floating out of his pocket and took it, holding it up to him. “I don’t know what part of this made you think I’d even want that.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Please, don’t- I’m not worth it.”

Well, she couldn’t not hug him. “You are.” She said, cradling his head with one hand and running her fingers through his tangled hair. “I can’t go back to regular life without you. Promise you’ll be there.”

Eiffel sniffled. “Commander…”

“Eiffel.” She tightened the embrace. “Please. For me.”

She just had to play that card, huh? He swallowed thickly. “Fine.” He raised his arms to return the hug. For you.

She sighed in relief. “Thank you. And we’ll work on the whole feeling like you’re not worth it thing. Together.”

He wasn’t sure about working on it, but together? That he could deal with.

--

Minkowski had insisted he had some tea after… all of that. It was all he could do to stop her from making it for him. He did have to admit that talking to her helped. He didn’t exactly feel great about himself, but… well, if she was going to throw her lot in with him, he’d have to be better.

Doug sighed, watching the tea steep. He couldn’t deny the part of him that was happy from the ultimatum. He didn’t like being alone, never had.

“Um… Officer Eiffel?”

He looked up. “Hey Hera, what’s up?”

“I-” She hesitated. “I wanted to apologise.”

He cocked his head. “Apologise?”

Hera sighed. “Yes. I’ve been too harsh with you. I don’t like seeing you like that, talking about yourself like that, and I tried to… well, I can’t shame you into thinking about yourself more positively.”

“Eh, never hurts to try.”

“Yes it does!” She exclaimed. “It does, I-I feel like I just made you feel worse.”

Eiffel’s hand curled delicately around the handle of his mug. “It’s okay, Hera. You did help. It’s not like I was gonna open up on my own.”

“You talked to me about it.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s easier when I don’t have to look you in the eye. No offense.”

“None taken.” She paused. “Are you feeling better at all?”

Eiffel held the cup in his hands, savouring the warmth. “A little.”

“That’s good. I want you to be happy.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you. You too.” He sipped the tea and grimaced at the temperature, putting it down to cool.

Hera coughed. “Oh, um… incoming.”

Doug frowned. “Incoming what?” He asked, before being tackled by a very enthusiastic Isabel Lovelace.

“Are you kidding me?!” She said, as they span in circles.

He grinned. “Oh, hey Cap.”

She squeezed him tightly, laughter colouring her voice. “The first nap I take in literally years and that’s when you decide to break the news?”

Eiffel burst out laughing. “Oh my god, really?”

“Yes! I got up, like, a few minutes ago! Ran into Minkowski in the hall and asked what I missed; I think she thought I was screwing with her.”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “Jesus-”

“You’re officially on my shit-list, Eiffel.” She said, though the effect was ruined by the massive smile.

He pulled back enough to grin at her. “I wasn’t before?”

Lovelace laughed. “Oh, you really do remember.”

He hugged her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I really do.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. “Good to have you back.”

“Good to be back.” It was. Despite himself, he was happy.

She drew back. “Oh my god, I wanted to tell you, you should have seen the look on Minkowski’s face when she realised you were gonna ram us with the Sol.”

Oh yeah. He did do that, didn’t he. He winced. “Was she mad?”

Lovelace snorted. “I don’t know if mad is the right word. Definitely surprised, but like,” She broke into giggles, “I swear she aged like twenty years; it was like a parent finding out their kid set fire to the classroom on the last day.”

Eiffel covered his eyes with one hand, laughing silently. “That’s such a specific picture.”

She nudged him. “But you know exactly what I mean.”

“Oh yeah, I’m familiar with all the annoyed faces of Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski.”

“You sure about that?” Renée asked from the doorway, making them both snap their mouths closed. “See, Hera? It’s when they shut up that I know they’ve been talking about me.”

Hera laughed, and Doug grinned. “Heeey, bestie!”

“Oh Jesus-” She buried her face in her hands to hide the smile. “Well, it’s good to see you’re feeling more yourself.”

“Is it? Are you sure?” Lovelace teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.” Even at her expense, she’d missed that smug grin.

--

It was late in the supposed evening when Minkowski found him alone on the bridge. “Hey.” She said quietly, to avoid scaring him.

Eiffel looked up. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

She shrugged. “Just checking in.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know.” Hera whispered.

Their eyes met, and all three burst out laughing.

Renée straightened up, stray giggles still leaking out. “What are you doing up here?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I figured I might as well enjoy the view.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Eiffel smiled gently. “’Course not.”

“Thanks.” She floated up to the middle of the window, beside him. Maybe she’d actually miss this kind of view when they got back.

“Really doesn’t feel like we’re going very fast, does it?”

“I could always add some whooshing noises for effect?” Hera said.

Minkowski barked a laugh. “No, thanks Hera.”

“Happy to help!” She chirped, in that sweetly insipid voice that she only used when she was joking nowadays.

They floated in silence for a little while.

Minkowski spoke first. “How are you doing?” She asked, not looking at him. Knowing that being stared down was the last thing she’d want, in his shoes.

“Better.” He said. “I slept a ton last night, and… it’s nice, having you guys back.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was thinking, getting hit with every bad day you’ve ever had in rapid succession like that probably isn’t great for the ol’ self-esteem.”

Oh. “Yeah, probably not.” Suddenly remembering all the people she had gotten killed would probably take a toll on her too. “Still. If you need to talk…”

“Thanks, Commander. I’ll keep you posted.”

She stretched. “I won’t be that for much longer.”

Eiffel groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me, Renée.” The disdain in his voice made her grin. “Can’t believe I called you that, it feels like a weird taste in my mouth.”

She elbowed him gently. “You’d better get used to it.”

“I only just got used to Minkowski!”

That earned an eye roll. “You can stick to that, if you want.”

He raised his eyebrows, floating upside down. “You sure? Doesn’t feel like normal civilian behaviour.”

“You really think we’re gonna be normal civilians?”

Eiffel chuckled. “Fair point. I’ll try though.”

“What about you? Got a preference?”

“Huh?” It took a moment to realise what she was talking about. “Oh, not really. As long as it’s my name I’m good.”

Minkowski smirked. “Good to know, Fernand.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

He laughed. “Jackass.”

She grinned to herself, then noticed something floating out of his pocket. “Hey, you got a man overboard there.”

“Huh?” Eiffel looked down and spotted the letter making an escape attempt. “Oh, thanks.” He pushed it back, buttoning the pocket, and looked up to find her giving him a strange look. “What?”

Minkowski wasn’t sure if she was touched or mortified. “Are you… carrying that around with you?”

He put a hand over the pocket the letter was in. “Why not? It’s mine.”

She groaned, but couldn’t quite put the messy feeling into words.

Eiffel’s mouth quirked into a grin. “I like it. I think when we get back, I’ll get it framed.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Aw but it’s so sweet!” Eiffel teased. “Who knew the big bad Commander was such a sap?”

Minkowski grumbled, her face flushing, and Hera scoffed. “Oh please, like yours was any better.”

His face dropped immediately, seeing her expression shift into a grin. “No.” Doug said, pushing himself right way up. “No, don’t even think about- No!”

With a laugh, she took off in the direction of her quarters, Eiffel hot on her tail.

He couldn’t help but laugh too. “Minkowski! Don’t you dare!”

“It’s only fair!” She shouted, punching in the code to her door.

“No!” Eiffel yelped, catching up just as the door opened and quickly darting in before she could. He was triumphant for a moment, right up until the door closed and locked him in. “Shit!”

She took a moment to laugh and catch her breath. “Hera?”

Hera laughed. “Okay, it is only fair. I won’t let him out.”

“Traitor!” He yelled through the door.

“Aw, that’s not what you really think, is it?” Minkowski teased, digging around in her pockets for the stack of envelopes.

He banged a fist on the door, grinning helplessly. This was what she’d said in her letter, wasn’t it? Something about how it’d be okay to be made fun of if they were all safe. They were all safe, and it was okay. Embarrassing, but… he could live with that.

“Did you seriously keep them on you?”

“You didn’t?” She said, skipping through the admittedly not numerous letters.

“No, I-I did.” He didn’t mention that they’d been jammed in his armpit for several months.

There was only one blank envelope. Seemed like he’d gone a step further than her in the hopes of it not being noticed while he was still alive. She opened it, pulled out the contents, and snorted. “Is this a pizza voucher?”

“I’ll have you know that place is amazing!”

“It’s expired.”

“What? No!”

“It expired before we left!”

“Well…” He floundered. “It’s the thought that counts! Anyway, that’s the only thing in there, so you can just let me out now…”

“Nice try.” Minkowski grinned, audibly rustling the paper.

Eiffel groaned, completely unable to stop smiling. “C’mon!”

She paused. “Seriously.”

He groaned again, burying his face in his hands. This was worse, somehow. He could remember setting out to write something for Minkowski; he knew she’d blame herself if she was going home without him, but he’d been stuck on what he could possibly say that would make that better. Hera helped. She’d asked him what he wanted to achieve and he’d come up with two answers. He wanted it to be sincere, and he wanted to make her laugh.

He pouted. “Ugh, it’s fine, I guess…” Knowing she’d get the message. This warm, happy feeling buzzing inside him from the sheer joy of being understood, of how much he loved them all.

Minkowski ran her thumb across the folded letter with an affectionate smile. She was almost tempted to put it away and save it for another time. Almost.

The first thing she noticed was that it wasn’t so much a structured letter as a series of disconnected fragments. The second thing she noticed was a cartoon that he’d drawn. “Is-” She coughed to hide a laugh. “Is this supposed to be me?”

Eiffel was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. “What, you can’t tell? I thought the harpoon would be a dead giveaway!”

Did he… He didn’t even know, did he? “I killed Cutter with a harpoon.”

“Oh yeah, sure, very funny.” There was a long pause. “Wait, for real?!”

It wasn’t funny. She’d impaled a man, it wasn’t funny. She laughed anyway. “Yep.”

He cackled. “Oh my God, badass. I wish I’d seen it.”

“It did feel pretty badass.” She glanced over one of the small paragraphs scribbled in the margin and felt her eyes get a little misty. Eiffel’s loyalty had surprised her before, but seeing the words ‘really special person’ written about her… shit, maybe she was a sap.

“You hanging in there, Minkowski?”

“Spoiled for choice.” Wait… “Is this a poem?”

Eiffel snickered. “I don’t know, is it?”

She stared at the letter incredulously.

‘There once was a man with a face Who almost drowned out in deep space His commander she saved him But then it was mayhem And she was really really cool’

Any chance she had of maintaining composure went up in smoke at the last line. She clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, but knew it was futile. “That- that doesn’t even rhyme!”

“Oh, it doesn’t?” He sounded delighted with himself. “Silly me.”

“Idiot.” She snickered, smiling so widely it hurt.

Eiffel grinned. “Can I come out now?”

Minkowski rolled her eyes and pocketed the letter. “Fine.” As if she wasn’t going to cherish that scrap of paper for the rest of her life.

The door whooshed open after a moment, revealing Eiffel standing there with an expectant smile and his arms loosely outstretched. She rolled her eyes again and dragged him into a hug. “Thanks.”

He squeezed her tightly. “Eh, it didn’t trigger decades of missing memories, so nothing too special.”

“Or tears!” Hera said.

“Hey! That was the flashbacks!”

“Sure, sure.” She said, amused. “And the second time?”

“Hera!”

Minkowski grinned, pulling back. “Eh, not his fault he’s a softie.”

Hera scoffed. “Oh please, you’re soft peas in a sappy pod.” They both flushed. “You do realise it was never part of the agreement to write something for each other?”

Eiffel fumbled. “It- it wasn’t not part of the agreement!”

“Uh huh.” Hera teased.

Minkowski smirked. “Okay, so maybe we’re saps.” She conceded, slowly reaching a hand into her back pocket. “You sure it’s just us?”

“Commander!”

“Yes?”

Eiffel looked between her and the nearest camera, confused. “What?”

Hera sounded mortified. “Okay, okay, you made your point!”

She smiled smugly. “Oh, good.”

“What is going on?”

“Nothing!” Hera said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Minkowski said with a wink. “You’ll find out.”

--

Doug returned to his room the next day to find a folded piece of paper on his bed. He frowned at it. “Hey, Hera? What’s this?”

Surprisingly, there was no reply other than the slight buzz of the speakers. So, she was there. But she wasn’t answering him.

He sat down and carefully unfolded it. This time, he recognised all of the handwriting. The slightly untidy scrawl, the meticulous block letter, and of course, the one clearly typed and printed.

He smiled as his eyes scanned the words, and the signatures at the bottom of the page. “Thanks, Hera.”

She didn’t respond.

Eiffel’s smile grew and he hugged the letter to his chest. “I love you.”

Hera paused nervously. “I know.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, yeah. Wait, that’s Star Wars, isn’t it?”

“Um. Yes?”

He laughed delightedly. “Oh my god! I remember Star Wars!”

Oh. “I’m happy for you.” She said warmly.

Eiffel pressed himself against the wall, hugging it as best he could. “I love you so much, Hera.”

“As much as Star Wars?”

He laughed quietly. “So much more than Star Wars.”

She softened. “I love you too.”

[feralgremlinchild]

Tw death, medical, child custody

(also I can’t remember how to do a read more so heads up it’s a long post)

I’ve been gone a while, I kept meaning to return but everything in life just kept getting worse. Taking care of my mother became more of a challenge, and the past 6 months she was in hospitals and skilled nursing homes. We had some good times together, I took her to see the eras tour in theater because she absolutely loved Taylor swift.

My mother died a week and a half ago, thankfully she was aware of what was happening and she was ready for it. She had unfortunately already been legally dead and revived and intubated before she had a chance to sign a dnr. She hated being intubated, but I tried to help as best I could to make communication possible for her the seven days she was intubated. I made her a talking board.

I tried my best to treat her with dignity and make sure she had the little comforts the past few months. I drew signs for her hospital wall, I brought her her favorite stuffed animal, I clipped and filed her nails, I brought my (retired) service dog to see her because she adored him and he always made her feel better. Helped order her food. Found solutions to little problems like an elastic band for her watch instead of a buckle. Assistive devices and technology. It never felt like a chore, it wasn’t a decision I had to make, I just did things.

She had finally decided a couple months ago that she was not going to take more of her dilaudid than prescribed. And she was actually sticking to that. I had been waiting for that my entire life and I was so so proud of her. She was trying very hard. She wanted to see my niece again, she wanted to be around a while longer. Up until the beginning of March, the doctors told us they weren’t sure how much time she had left, but it could be months or even a year, it depended on her recovery. Her body’s ability to recover. In the end though it was just too tired, she’d been sick her entire life and she couldn’t recover from this last infection.

My niece’s dad allowed her to visit the hospital a couple days before my mother passed. I didn’t get to see the kid because I wasn’t at the hospital, I had already gone home. The kid had been given a phone for her birthday a few days earlier, and has been allowed to contact us so far. I haven’t seen her in person since December, but I’ll see her on Friday at the service. We’ve been texting though, mostly about games we both play and inside jokes.

I had to buy a black dress because my old one ripped. I have lost a lot of weight recently anyways, it probably wouldn’t have fit. It turns out stress and grieving can take the pounds off you even when an eating disorder couldn’t. It’s not exactly happy weight loss. I haven’t been celebrating it. But the weight did need to come off, so maybe at least my joints will be a little happier.

Now I have to find a job at some point in the next couple of months. The insurance money won’t last forever, and I had always planned on getting a job after my mother passed. She had been my full time job for years. I’m going to get a job, help my dad sell the house, and then move out of Texas. If all goes well I will be in New England this time next year. It’s a big move but I need to get as far away as possible, I’ve been dreaming of this for years and years and it’s finally time to start making steps towards it.

Also both of my big dogs have large tumors and I have no money for removal or treatment.

Also also my cousin’s wedding is in less than two weeks and it’s a 5 hour drive minimum and I did get a dress and it’s good but I do not feel like celebrating anything right now. The guy is nice tho, very kind and has what the church people call a heart of service. They’re cute together. And my cousin is great and I love her and I grew up with her almost like a sister, even going to the same schools. But I’m just not in a happy wedding mood. I’m going anyway of course.

[aro-is-gay-af]

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader

As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.

Anyway!

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.

I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.

Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 7816 (!)

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.

Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.

You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.

What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.

So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.

You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.

At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.

You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.

You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.

And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.

Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.

You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.

You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.

At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.

When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.

The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.

You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.

You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.

For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.

By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.

"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.

When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.

At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.

However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.

As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.

A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.

You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.

You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.

When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.

You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?

You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.

Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.

“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…

“It was just for sport,” she tried again.

You snorted in annoyance.

“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”

As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.

You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.

“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.

“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.

You walked into the house with Bella.

“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.

“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.

“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.

While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.

“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.

“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.

It was your turn to roll the eyes.

“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”

Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.

Alice took no notice of you.

"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."

You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.

"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.

"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.

You grabbed her hand.

"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.

"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."

You snorted in disbelief.

"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.

“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.

“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.

You looked at Bella expectantly.

“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.

After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.

“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.

“But Alice...” protested Bella.

“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.

“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.

“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.

When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?

One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.

⋎⋎⋎

On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.

“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.

Alice let out a sigh.

“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”

If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.

“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.

Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.

“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.

“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.

"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.

Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.

"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”

You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.

⋎⋎⋎

This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?

You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!

“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.

Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:

“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”

He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.

“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.

Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.

“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.

Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.

When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.

You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.

“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.

When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.

“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.

As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.

“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”

You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.

Aro smiled to Edward.

“Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.

“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.

You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.

“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.

“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.

You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.

“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.

“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.

Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.

"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.

"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.

Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.

“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.

“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.

“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.

Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.

"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”

The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.

“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.

You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.

Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.

"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.

Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.

"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.

"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?

“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.

“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.

“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”

“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”

You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.

Aro was smiling continuously.

“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”

You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.

“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.

Aro turned directly to Edward.

“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.

She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.

“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.

“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.

You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.

“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.

Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.

“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.

What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.

"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.

"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.

“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.

“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.

You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.

“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”

Bella looked devastated.

“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.

“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.

After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.

They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.

You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.

"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."

You took his arm gratefully.

"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.

Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.

"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.

"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.

Part 2 | Part 3

[conradscrime]

The Watcher

March 28, 2021 

In June 2014 Derek Broaddus and his wife Maria closed in on their dream home located at 657 Boulevard in Westfield, New Jersey. The house was beautiful and included 6 bedrooms, which was perfect because the Broaddus family had three children. It was spacious and the perfect family home. Maria had been raised in Westfield and this new home was only a few blocks away from her childhood home. Derek had grown up in Maine and worked for an insurance company and had worked his way to becoming senior vice-president. 

The Broaddus’ wanted some renovations done and a few days after closing in on the house Derek went to do some painting of his own. While he was there he happened to check the mail and found an envelope with the words to “The New Owner” scrawled in chunky letters. 

The letter read, 

“Dearest new neighbour at 657 Boulevard, allow me to welcome you to the neighbourhood. 657 Boulevard has been the subject of my family for decades now and as it approaches its 110th birthday, I have been put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched the house in the 1920s and my father watched in the 1960s. It is now my time. Do you know the history of the house? Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out.“ 

Whoever had written the letter seemed to already know a decent amount of information about the Broaddus family including their children, knowing how many they had, though the writer had not yet identified their names. 

A letter from the writer about the children is as follows, 

“Do you need to fill the house with the young blood I requested? Better for me. Was your old house too small for the growing family? Or was it greed to bring me your children? Once I know their names I will call to them and draw them too [sic] me.“

The Broaddus family had no idea who could be sending the letters, the writer only signed them as being written by “The Watcher.” 

Derek was obviously freaked out at the amount of information this unknown person already knew about the family. Also the way the letters are written is very strange and very sinister, it doesn’t really seem like a joke. Derek called the police who were just as confused as him over the contents of the letters and asked if Derek had any known enemies. 

The Broaddus family could not think of anyone that would be sending these kinds of letters to them. They contacted the couple that had sold them the house, John and Andrea Woods and asked them if they had ever received any letters during the time they lived at 657 Boulevard. Andrea Woods claimed that a few days before they moved out of the house they had in fact received a sketchy letter in the mail from someone referring to themselves as The Watcher. However, that was the only letter John and Andrea had ever received from The Watcher and they had lived in the house for 23 years. They did think the letter was odd but didn’t think much of it and threw it out. 

The police felt that whoever this Watcher person was must be a neighbour living near the house. They advised the Broaddus family to not mention these letters to anyone while they investigated potential neighbourhood suspects. 

In the coming weeks the Broaddus family was starting to unpack things into the house and it seemed as though the Watcher was present for all of this. Maria had received another letter this time addressing both her and Derek as “Mr. and Mrs. Braddus.” Though the Watcher spelled their last name wrong they were obviously close enough in earshot to hear. The Watcher also named the three children in birth order and knew of their nicknames. 

The letters started getting even creepier. One letter in particular mentioned the sleeping arrangements and what bedrooms the children would have. 

“Will they sleep in the attic? Or will you all sleep on the second floor? Who has the bedrooms facing the street? I’ll know as soon as you move in. It will help me to know who is in which bedroom. Then I can plan better.“

A suspicious thing happened when one day Derek was showing the renovations they made to another couple living on the block. During the tour the wife said, “It’ll be nice to have some young blood in the neighbourhood.” Young blood is something that only the Watcher had said in their letters about the Broaddus children. 

Closer and closer to move in day and the Watcher was definitely around. 

“I pass by many times a day. 657 Boulevard is my job, my life, my obsession. And now you are too Braddus family. Welcome to the product of your greed! Greed is what brought the past three families to 657 Boulevard and now it has brought you to me.Have a happy moving in day. You know I will be watching.“

The Broaddus’ seemed too afraid to move into their new dream home due to the letters and they were scared for their children’s safety. One potential suspect, a man named Michael Langford who lived in a house nearby and did not work. He lived with his mother, Peggy Langford who was up in her 90′s. Several of Peggy’s adult children lived with her, most of them in their 60′s which seemed odd to Derek. 

The Langford’s had lived there since the 1960′s which the first letter from the Watcher confirmed that’s when their father had started watching 657 Boulevard. Richard Langford died 12 years earlier and it would make sense that Michael took over for him, considering the Watcher’s letter said they had been watching for ‘the better part of two decades.’ 

Michael was questioned but there was never enough evidence to charge him with anything. The police were pretty much tied with no evidence which led Derek and Maria to become quite frustrated. They didn’t feel safe in their new home, their dream home that they just wanted to enjoy. Derek and Maria tried to investigate themselves, finding out that the only family that had lived in the neighbourhood since the 1960′s was the Langfords. They even hired their own private investigator but no new information was found. 

There were a few other sketchy occurrences. For example, one of the housepainters noticed that the couple who lived behind the Broaddus family had two lawn chairs that seemed to be really close to the Broaddus house. One day the painter looked out the window and noticed the man sitting in one of the chairs, facing the Broaddus’ house. 

The Broaddus family did not feel comfortable moving into 657 Boulevard and they had already sold their house so they moved in with Maria’s parents for the time being. They still paid the mortgage and property taxes on 657 Boulevard, but refused to live there and put their children in harms way. 

Six months after buying 657 Boulevard, the Broaddus family put it up on the market. They originally priced it higher than they had paid for because they made a lot of renovations, but no one wanted to buy it because of gossip about the Watcher. 

Derek and Maria filed a legal complaint against the Woods’ on June 2, 2015 about a year after they first bought the house. They felt that the Woods’ should have let them know that they had received a letter from the Watcher before selling them the house. The Woods’ claim that they did not disclose the information about the letter because they didn’t find it threatening, they had never felt ‘watched’ in 23 years, in fact they rarely ever locked their doors while living there. 

The Watcher sent the Broaddus family 3 letters in total, all about details about the house and their life. It was reported that a neighbour living at 633 Boulevard had also received a letter from the Watcher around the same time the Broaddus family did, though not a whole lot of information has come out about that. 

In July 2019 the Broaddus family finally sold 657 Boulevard for $959,000, about $400,000 cheaper than they paid for it. Some people believe that the Broaddus family themselves were writing the letters to themselves as some scheme, to get a movie deal or maybe realized they couldn’t afford to have the house and wanted to get out of the deal, though to me it seems strange that they would do that because they lost their dream home and they lost a lot of money in the process of selling the house. 

No one has ever been charged for being The Watcher and this case remains unsolved. 

[dark-and-twisty-01]

DiAngelo is the only survivor of the largest mass suicide on American soil. He found the bodies of his 39 friends lying with plastic bags over their heads, wearing neat black tracksuits with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers. Now we discover why he was left behind...

It was midday when Rio DiAngelo arrived at the hilltop mansion overlooking San Diego to find all the windows closed, the curtains drawn, and outdoor lights burning in the sunshine. The front door was locked, but he found a side door ajar and warily pushed it open.

The unmistakable stench of death made him gag and he covered his face with his shirtsleeve, which still smelled of cologne from his morning shower. As he walked through the eerie silence, he knew what he would find. And he dreaded it. Upstairs, 39 of his friends lay dead in their beds after the largest mass suicide on American soil. All members of a bizarre cult, they had each downed a lethal cocktail of vodka, barbiturates and apple sauce to leave their 'earthly containers' and join an alien spaceship trailing the Hale-Bopp comet.Yelling out in case anyone was still alive, DiAngelo raced from room to room. But all he found were bodies with plastic bags over their heads. Each one wore a neat black tracksuit with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers with their comet-trail trademark. The 21 women and 18 men had each packed a small bag for the journey, and have five dollars in their pocket. Thoughtful to the end, each had left a note saying. 'I forced myself to go into each room and check everyone,' said DiAngelo. 'With each body I came across, the loss became too much to bear. They were my closest friends. I loved them dearly.'

DiAngelo, who's real name is Richard Ford, became involved with the Heaven's Gate Cult in 1994 after attending one of their meetings in a California hotel or 'Cultifornia' as sceptics often call the state that spawned Charles Manson and the Reverend Jim Jones. He had listened while nine androgynous-looking members wearing identical loose clothes and cropped hair described their absolute belief in aliens, the paranormal, and reincarnation. One of them was 59 year old Thomas Nichols whose sister, Nichelle, played Star Trek's Lieutenant Uhura. Forbidden to have sex, hug each other, or even shake hands, the Heaven's Gate cultists concentrated on purifying their bodies and spirits ready for the move to 'an advanced level of being' on another planet or dimension. They called each other brother or sister, observed daily rituals, and were allowed to watch only selected TV programmes. Individual needs were minimised so that a member who had run out of deodorant, for example, would have to apply for a new one in writing.Anyone entering the immaculately clean mansion referred to as 'the temple' had to take off their shoes and wear surgical socks. Silence prevailed, and many of their neighbours assumed they were 'a bunch of monks.' In line with their belief that they had been sent to earth as angels, six members were castrated and, according to DiAngelo, 'they couldn't stop smiling and giggling about it.'

On some days, members had to report to their superiors every 12 minutes while on other days they were required to wear a cone on their heads as they would in alien bodies. Many common words were changed so that members would not remember their human past once they had ascended into space. For instance, house became 'craft' and kitchen became 'nutri-lab.' Their 65 year old leader Marshall Applewhite had started the cult in 1972 with Bonnie Nettles whom he had met while undergoing treatment for homosexuality in a psychiatric hospital. They had abandoned their human names and called themselves Guinea and Pig, then Bo and Peep, before finally settling on Do and Ti.Ti died of cancer in 1985, But Do, claiming he was Jesus reincarnated, said he continued to communicate with her. The group survived financially by running a successful web page design firm which they also used to try and win converts and spread their message. Their own website featured pictures of stars and nebulae downloaded from NASA and appeared very businesslike. It also stated that suicide is acceptable for cult members who want to ascent to 'a higher level of life.' Heaven's Gate shared some of the beliefs of 19th century occultists like novelist Mark Twain. In 1907, Twain wrote a short story about a hero leaving Earth for 'an extended excursion among the heavenly bodies' on the trail of a comet. He took his passport and five dollars for the fare. Despite their fantastic beliefs, DiAngelo was converted and lived in this eccentric community for nearly three years. I'd just turned forty and recently divorced and I was trying to find meaning in life,' he said. 'I'd had a fairly troubled past that included a violent, unstable mother and other bad relationships. The group shared my interest in UFOs, music and Eastern Religions.

But in, December 1995, Do's teaching took a more sinister turn and DiAngelo later recalled that he 'sat us all down and told us that we might have to leave our bodies behind. Amazingly, we didn't really have a problem with that. We trusted Do implicitly. 'We found a suicide recipe that used phenobarbital, vodka and apple sauce, and Do and some of his helpers went to Mexico to buy enough of the drug for the entire group.'  Eleven months later, an amateur astronomer took a photo of the Hale-Bopp comet, which showed a mysterious oval-shaped object trailing in its wake. Although NASA later described it a 'proto-comet' 2,000 miles behind Hale-Bopp, other astronomers dismissed the sighting as a hoax or error. Hale-Mary, as it was called, has not been seen since. Do, however, convinced his followers that it was a spaceship coming to take them away and that his deceased partner, Ti, was flying it. Seeing significance in everything, he told then that Hale-Bopp even had the same initials as Helena Blavatsky, another 19th century occultist with whom the group shared beliefs. Having decided on this 'Star-gate' plan, the group prepared to enjoy a final spree on Earth by spending some surplus money. They went to Las Vegas and stayed at the Stratosphere Hotel, and rode the rollercoaster and the Big Shot free-fall ride. A week later they went to see Star Wars and visited the San Diego wild animal park and Sea World. For their 'last supper,' they booked a table for 39 at a local restaurant where waiter Eric Morales was struck by their politeness and helpfulness. 'From the moment they arrived, all austerely dressed and looking the same, I knew this would be no ordinary shift,' he said. 'I made a joke to sort of set the mood and when I returned to their table five minutes later they were still laughing at it. You could tell they didn't get out a lot. 'All thirty nine ordered exactly the same: turkey pie, salad, blueberry cheesecake and iced tea. They were very pleasant, but guarded. When asked where they were from they said things like 'from the car' and 'from all over.' Six days later, employees at the restaurant watched news footage in amazement when they realised the oddball diners they had served had gone straight home and killed themselves. 'It was the last time they were going to be together,' said Morales. 'The bill came to three hundred and fifty one dollars which included a twenty six dollar tip. Our manager was so taken with them, he stood in the doorway and shook hands with each one as they left.' A month before the suicides, DiAngelo decided he wanted to leave the commune. He moved to Beverly Hills, and began working for a web design company. 'I left with Do's permission,' he said/. 'I told him I felt I had something to do outside...like a task. I think part of it was to explain to the world the philosophy of Heaven's Gate and the sort of people they were. Be an instrument of clarification. 'I believed Do was from another planet. He taught me to be more aware, honest and sensitive to the world. In short, a better person. What I gained from the group was phenomenal.

On March 27th, 1997, a parcel arrived at DiAngelo's office. It contained an upbeat farewell video and a message saying: 'By the time you read this we will have exited our bodies.' 'There was no mention of sadness or fear, but rather an air of excitement and anticipation. The cult he called 'his closest brothers and sisters' were aged between 26 and 72 and are believed to have died in three groups - 15 the first day, 15 the next, and nine on the third. In the heat of the Californian spring, many of the bodies had already begun to decompose by the time DiAngelo discovered them. Eager to be helpful, they cleaned up after each round of dying and had even taken out the rubbish. Police found handguns, rifles, and ammunition at the mansion which DiAngelo believed Marshall Applewhite had assembled because he feared a Waco-like siege by the FBI. He had also spent, $1,000 on an insurance policy that would pay out a million dollars each for up to 50 people in the event of abduction by aliens. The company said Heaven's Gate were one of 4,000 policyholders worldwide who had bought alien abduction insurance, with Britain and the USA being their biggest markets. The aftermath of the Heaven's Gate deaths was predictably prosaic. San Diego County planned to auction off their belongings - worth an estimated $1 million and give the proceeds to surviving family members. But  DiAngelo claimed that his brothers and sisters wanted him to inherit the web design firm and announced his intention of settling the matter in court. Neighbours living on the same street as the group campaigned to change it's name after crowds of 'strange visitors'  kept arriving to pray there. And the $1.6 million mansion itself proved unsellable because of it's gruesome associations and the obstinate smell of formaldehyde in its air conditioning. Two months after the suicide pact, two former members of Heaven's Gate also tried to 'exit their earthly vehicles' in a Holiday Inn four miles from the cult's mausoleum. They were dressed and prepared exactly the same as their departed brothers and sisters. One died immediately. The other was found unconscious, and went on to evangelise for the cult, touring the country with a 70-minute video of the bug-eyed Marshall Applewhite. He killed himself the following year in Heaven's Gate style after telling his friends that he would 'rather gamble on missing the bus this time than stay on this planet and risk losing my soul.' DiAngelo went on to apply the computer skills he had learned from Heaven's Gate to his earthly life. He auctioned off the cult's van on eBay and signed a deal to write a TV movie based on his experiences. But the project never got off the ground. A tabloid offered him $1 million for exclusive rights to his story. At the time he refused, preferring to preserve the dignity of his departed friends. Upon reflection, he later said he should have taken the money. 'I've been on a rollercoaster over the last decade,' he said in 2007. 'I still miss my friends so much and I still haven't met anyone who can compare to them. Not a day goes by that I don't think about them. 'I'm the last Heaven's Gate member on Earth, so there must be a reason why I'm still here. But although I still want to live like them, dying like them definitely isn't part of my plan.' DiAngelo re-established contact with his 19 year old son and confessed he was now 'a slave to commerce like everybody else.' Ten years on he was still haunted by the events of that terrible day, but relieved that he didn't join his friends in the mass suicide which shocked the world. The group's website is still maintained by two individuals allegedly surviving members who left after 12 years to get married (forbidden within the group which prized gender-free platonic relationships) prior to the group's exodus to the 'Next Evolutionary Level.' They confirmed in a statement on the 20th anniversary of the mass suicide that Heaven's Gate no longer existed but that the site remained available to those seeking information about their beliefs.

The world's fascination with the extraordinary actions Heaven's Gate undertook is yet to abate...

[imagining-supernatural]

The Confession

Part 27 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  You and Sebastian spend more time in the hospital talking

Word Count: 2,621

Warnings: Brief mentions of abortion & suicide, not an accurate timeline of medical recovery

God, you hated sleeping in hospitals. Mostly because sleep was impossible. It seemed like as soon as you finally fell asleep, a nurse was waking you to take your vitals.

“Sorry to wake you, just gotta check on some things,” a nurse you’d never seen before woke you quietly.

Seb shifted behind you, arms tightening until he was awake enough to process what was going on. He grunted something that could have resembled words, had he been more awake. As it was, he sounded like a caveman as he slipped from the bed to the chair. Once the nurse completed her quick exam, he wasted no time in returning to his place beside you, this time under the covers.

“It’s useless to try and convince you to go home and get some actual sleep in an actual bed, right?”

“Right,” he replied, curling his body around yours even more. As much as you hated to admit it, it made you feel better. Not good, because you doubted you could ever feel good about what you’d done, but having him hold you so tight seemed to calm your nerves that had begun to fray during your fight on Saturday.

Once Seb set his mind to something, you knew he didn’t give up. After all, that was what had gotten you into this predicament in the first place. Had he not set his mind to flying you out to New York to meet Doctor Helen Sharpe, you’d probably be back in Utah, living out the last few weeks of your life.

But here you were: cancer free.

And now he’d set his mind to riding out whatever your relationship with him would turn into. He found out he truth about your past and he was still here, holding you.

Maybe it was that reminder, but you found that you were able to fully relax into his arms, even going so far as to twine your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand once before he went lax at your back, falling back asleep.

“It’s like Skip-Bo on steroids,” you explained to Brenda the next day.

She sat on the other side of the table that Sebastian had acquired from somewhere in the hospital. “I haven’t played Skip-Bo in ages.”

“You’ll catch on quick. So, in my version of Nerts, everyone gets their own Rook deck. Each deck has a mark on the back to distinguish it from the others. There are no turns; everybody just goes for it.” You finished explaining the rules, then started playing. When you’d taught Seb a few months ago, it had just been the two of you and he was surprised at how much crazier it was by just adding one person.

By the time Brenda had to get back to her rounds, you’d played six hands and she was beating both you and Seb.

Shuffling your deck, you rolled your eyes. “I hate it when you teach someone a new game and they’re better at it than you are in less than an hour.”

“You literally just had brain surgery. I’m pretty sure you weren’t on your A-Game.”

“Okay, but I have a friend who refuses to play Nerts with me because he hates losing every single time, so this just feels wrong, brain surgery or not. It’s not fair at all.”

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.”

“Don’t I know it,” you mumbled while wrapping a rubber band around your Rook deck.

He glanced at the shut door and took a deep breath. The light-hearted atmosphere in the room dissipated. “Hey Y/N, I’ve been wondering… Your dad died in a house fire. You were at Jasmin’s house all night. How did you… How could you have…”

“How’d I do it? Kill him?” He nodded at your blunt words and you sat back, thinking of the shortest way to say it. “I got home from school and he told me that mom had been arrested for public intoxication or something and that he was going to use this time without her to, uh beat her bad genes out of me.” As if those were the genes that needed to be beaten out. “And, I don’t know. I guess I just snapped. Eliza had been gone for years, so she wouldn’t be hurt. Mom was locked up and couldn’t show up and get hurt either… So, later that night he passed out on the couch and…”

You took a deep breath and looked away from him, focusing on the door to the bathroom. You’d never said these words aloud before. Jasmin and your sister never asked how you did it. They never asked why you did it. They just took you at your word and let it be.

“I spilled the rest of his whiskey on his shirt and the couch then lit a cigarette and put it between his fingers. Grabbed my backpack and walked the few blocks to Jasmin’s house. Our neighbor reported the fire half an hour later.”

“So you didn’t kill him. Not really.”

“Indirectly,” you challenged, looking straight at him again.

“Indirectly, huh?” He sat forward in his chair, elbows on knees, and trained his eyes right on yours. “Is that how you killed the person after your dad? You said you killed someone before him and after. You consider the abortion to be the first person you killed right? So…”

You grabbed Brenda’s deck of Rook cards and started shuffling them, holding Seb’s gaze. “You seem to know more than I do, so why don’t you tell me?”

“I think you blame yourself for your mother’s death.” You flinched, finally breaking eye contact. Unfortunately, Sebastian kept talking. “And judging by that reaction, I hit the nail right on the head.”

“She loved my dad,” you whispered. “I don’t understand it, not with what he did to us, but she did. Then I killed him and… I guess she didn’t have anything left to live for.”

The hum of medical machinery and faint chatter from the hall filled the air until Sebastian processed your words. Softly, so softly, he reached across the table with an open hand and waited until you gave in and reluctantly placed your hand in his. His blue eyes seared into yours. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what happened. I never knew your mom, but… what if you’re looking at it the wrong way?”

“I killed my dad, and a few months later my mom killed herself. That’s not coincidence, Seb.”

“I’m not saying it is.” His agreement surprised you. “I’m just saying, maybe her motivation wasn’t love for your father.”

“Then what is it?”

“Maybe she stayed alive so long because of you. Because she wanted to protect you from him as much as she could. And as soon as he was gone… she didn’t have that responsibility. She knew you could take care of yourself and she just… couldn’t go on. And she didn’t have to go on.”

That… couldn’t be it. She wasn’t a strong person. She couldn’t have protected you from him any more than you could have stopped him.

But you hadn’t considered that side of the argument before. Either way, his death had caused hers. But, if Seb was right… Then you’d given her the peace of mind she needed to finally let go. She was a shell of a person by the end and while you wish she hadn’t died, you couldn’t blame her for it. Picking yourself up after years and years of an abusive marriage had to be so fucking difficult, and she just wasn’t strong enough.

“Think about it, okay?” Sebastian said a minute later. While you were still reeling from this new view on your past, he gently ushered you towards the recliner in the corner of the room and pulled you onto his lap. With his arms around you and Brooklyn 99 playing on his phone, it wasn’t long before your post-surgery exhaustion took over and you fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you were sleeping, but when you woke up, the room was darker as the sun was falling behind the skyline. Seb’s chest was rumbling under your ear as he spoke quietly into his phone

“Nah, mom, the hospital food isn’t so bad. I’m sure when Y/N wakes up, she’ll be on me to go take a shower and I’ll grab some real food on my way back.” His mom replied on the other end of the call, but you couldn’t make out any words. All that you could feel was his hand rubbing up and down your arm and his chest rising with each breath he took. “She’s doing well. Better than I expected after brain surgery… No, I’m not sugar-coating it. She’s fine, medically speaking. I swear. It’s just that some personal shit came up and it’s eating her up… Of course, I am, mom. Why do you think I haven’t gone home to shower? Yeah, love you too. I’ll let you know when we can fly out and you can finally meet her.”

He hung up and tossed his phone over onto the bed before shifted just enough to somehow curl around you even more. He pressed his lips to your hairline. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Is it morning?” you rasped, throat dry. It didn’t surprise you that he knew you were awake. After all, you’d been sleeping in the same bed as him for weeks now. You knew each other’s habits well enough by now to be able to read body language.

“Evening, actually. But time doesn’t really exist in hospitals.”

“Mmm,” you agreed. This time it was you who shifted, pulling back just enough to tilt your head up to his. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Great. Excited to meet you once you’re cleared to fly.”

“Mmm,” you hummed neutrally, eyes drifting away from his face to focus on the far wall.

“And she’s gonna love you, you know that, right? Even if you told her everything, she’d love you all the same.” His finger under your chin urged your eyes back to his. “Just like I love you all the same.”

Love? Your eyes darted between both of his, looking for any sign that he was joking. Any sign that he was trying to maybe lighten the mood, but you couldn’t find any. He wasn’t acting… he wasn’t bluffing…

“Oh my god.”

The softest half-smile you’d ever seen crept onto his face seconds before he leaned down and nudged your nose with his. “You seem surprised.”

“I’m…”

Memories flashed in front of you of you and Sebastian.

Seb buying you Oreos and ice cream. His bright eyes when you agreed to stay the night with him that first time. Him defending you to the paparazzi outside the hospital. That hesitance in his eyes when he asked you to wear the ring. Flirting via Skype.

And, god, that first kiss in the elevator. It was like he was drowning and you were the bubble of air he needed to live.

“I’m…” you tried again, but once again, words failed you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he stated, practically guaranteeing that you would never again be able to form a complete sentence ever again. “I know you, I know about your past, and unless you’re hiding a secret bigger than what you’ve already told me, nothing is going to change that. Even then, probably. How I feel about you isn’t going to go away.”

“Seb, I… What?”

He chuckled, bumping your nose again. “I love you. And now I’m going to kiss you. Unless, of course, you have any objections to that.”

Objections? What sort of objections could you possibly have with his eyes looking so sincerely into yours and his arms warm around you? “I… I probably should have objections.”

“But you don’t?”

“I, uh, can’t think of anything right now.”

His grin grew and a mumbled good later, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was gentle, at first. His lips were barely brushing yours, and if it wasn’t for his thumb stroking your cheek and your heart beating hard enough to crack a rib, you wouldn’t even have classified this as a kiss.

Then he pressed closer, stealing every breath you exhaled until there wasn’t anything but him. Every kiss with Sebastian seemed to rewrite your world, but this kiss completely undid everything. All that mattered was the minty aftertaste of the gum he’d been chewing earlier, the rough callouses of his hands scratching against your cheek, and his familiar musky aftershave scent enveloping you.

Slowly, he began pulling away, leaving a trail of kisses across your cheek as he chuckled. “I think I like kissing you when you’re hooked up to a heart monitor.”

His words made you realize that the monitor was beeping much faster than it had been just moments before and you ducked your head into his neck, huffing soft laughter.

“I like that sound too,” he murmured. “Been a while since you’ve laughed.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, risking a quick kiss to his neck. He brought his hand up to curl around your head, mindful of the bandage from surgery. His simple action anchored you to him; anchored you to this moment. This moment where the outside world didn’t exist. Where it was just you and him. “You know this isn’t over, right? I’m fucked up and a kiss isn’t going to make it all better.”

“I know. But I hope you know that I’m going to be right by your side through all of it. I don’t know why I married you in Vegas, but I know why I want to stay married to you.” At his declaration, you eased your head away from his neck and looked at him. With the sincerest expression you’d ever seen, he tucked your hair behind your ear and looked right into your eyes. “I’m all in, sweetheart. I’m willing to do whatever I need to, to get you good again. I have a therapist I go to sometimes who is great. Or we could find someone else, if you don’t want to mix that. Whatever you want.”

“I went to therapy in college,” you said weakly, about to argue that it hadn’t helped.

Sebastian apparently knew where you were going and broke in. “But you didn’t talk about everything, did you?” You shook your head and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Baby, you’ve gotta talk about it. All of it.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips and you laid your head back down on his shoulder. “I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead just before his chin came to rest on top of your head. “We’ll figure it out later, okay?”

“Okay,” you gave in, finally acknowledging that you’d stick around in his life. That you weren’t about to run away, and that you accepted that he wasn’t about to call the cops on you or divorce you right away.

A few minutes of comfortable silence tiptoed past. Finally, you stretched and climbed off of Seb’s lap. Your muscles protested, but you pushed through. As much as you’d love to stay curled up with Sebastian all day, your bladder had different plans.

The rest of the day was spent in familiar companionship. No more deep, dark discussions took place, and you managed to keep your self-hatred and depression at bay enough to enjoy the Lord of the Rings marathon Sebastian convinced you to start with him.

You knew this moment was the eye of the hurricane. The last few days had been hell, and the next few days or weeks would likely be just as bad or even worse.

But this moment? All was calm.

He said it! He said he loves her!! She agreed to stick around! Cancer free, love acknowledged, future plans... what more can you want??

Just the Epilogue left, y’all!!

EPILOGUE: THE END

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {2}

Jacob/Bella Twilight Fix-It Fic

Series Masterlist

A/N: Bella acquires some self-awareness. Team let all these characters say fuck. Again, if you don’t like it, don’t read it, this is just me screaming into the void.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Months passed since Edward left and Bella has finally reentered the real world, maybe Forks will be normal.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,478

Walking into school when I was aware of my surroundings was jarring after months of floating in existence. I muddled through classes, thankful that as a senior, most of my teachers taught in a lecture format and I could lose myself while they instructed, by now most had given up calling on me for answers. As I was packing my bag from English I heard a voice call my name. I snapped my head up, Mike stood in front of me. “What? Sorry, did you need something?” I asked.

“Are you working tomorrow?” He asked anxiously, every week he had asked this question. I had been answering on autopilot.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” I said with a shrug, I always showed up. Maybe in zombie mode, but I was there. And that paycheck was what would be filling my college fund. Or at least giving me a starting point for it.

“It is.” He nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer before he left the room. I finished packing up and wandered into the hallway. My first exchange with someone wasn’t horrible, but I dreaded the next with Jessica. She had been like a fly buzzing in my ear, but something told me that today, I would not be able to just tune her out.

I walked to my seat and glanced over at her. “Hi.” I said awkwardly with a small wave.

Her eyes widened for a moment. “Hello, Bella.” She stated in short accented bursts, but today, she didn’t give me a mindless deluge of her life. She remained silent, she stared at Mr. Varner as he lectured Calculus methods, but her eyes kept flitting over to me curiously. When class had winded down she turned to me. “Do you need help with calc?”

I gave her what I thought was a hopeful expression, “I need so much help.” Then froze, “With calculus, well with other things too, but that’s not your department.”

She chuckled. “I think I can handle calculus. I’m free tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I work tomorrow.”

She nodded, “Mike had said you were working at Newton’s.” She tapped her pencil on her chin. “We’ll figure it out, we can always stay late sometime to work on calc. The library is open until 4:30.”

I smiled, then the bell rang, the day was over, I had two conversations with classmates who probably thought I was possessed after the past few months, but it was progress. Maybe if I shared it with Dad, he’d feel hopeful. I drove home, the constant weight that had made a home in my chest had lightened. I was surprised to come home and see Dad’s squad car parked out front, he had been working later, I was used to being home alone until he came back from work.

He was sitting in his recliner when I walked through the door, his eyes closed and a quiet snore escaping his lips. I tried to tiptoe in, to let him get a half-decent nap in, but his eyes opened when I closed the door.

“Good day at school?” He asked groggily.

“It was a day, at school.” I shrugged, setting my backpack down and sitting on the couch.

He nodded, “I got ahold of the therapist, Dr. Theresa Gilbert. She said she can see you on Monday after school. We can drive up, we’ll get there by 4 and she said you could start with a session, see how you feel. If you don’t get along she can refer you to another.”

I nodded, one session to start, I could handle that. “Are you sure we can do this?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow. “Your mother and I talked it over, we can swing it, you’re on my insurance plan, it’s not the best, but it will be fine.”

“So I’ll just leave school Monday and drive up to Port Angeles?”

“I’ll drive you.” Dad stated, I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Bells, I want to support you, you can go in yourself, I can sit in the car and wait. I won’t go in unless you want me to.”

“Okay.” I murmured, sensing there was something more to his wanting to go. Not a ‘I’m going to ensure you go’ but more of a ‘I have to be there.’

“You have work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah, Saturdays are my day.” I nodded.

He let out a hum and stood up. “I’ll get dinner started. Let you know when it’s ready.”

I nodded and opened my backpack. I wasn’t worried about English or Social Studies, those two classes I could muddle through. But Calculus was going to be the bane of my existence. I continued working until Dad called me into the kitchen, it was spaghetti, a staple meal for him. Which, the past few months, I didn’t really notice how many times we ate it, but I imagine he did. “Dad, do you want me to start helping cook again?” I asked as I took a helping of pasta and sauce.

“Getting tired of spaghetti?” He teased, but added. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to take over. I can… get adventurous.”

I laughed. “I’ll start doing some meals, get some change in our diet.” I said taking a bite.

He smiled at me and we ate in silence. I washed the dishes before going up to bed, he turned on the TV to watch some game that was important to him. I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a deep breath. The throbbing in my chest was present again, my knees felt weak. It had been a good day, why now? I curled into a ball on my bed and willed myself to sleep. The dull throbbing lulled me to sleep as I counted my heartbeats.

Breakfast the next morning was silent, Dad had left a note on the fridge that he had to go to the station early. Forks barely ever had need of him this early, but after spending a year with vampires, I don’t know how much would surprise me anymore. I put my empty bowl in the sink and walked out to my truck. I let the engine sputter for a moment before it started, rap music started blaring through the stereo and I flinched back. When did I start listening to rap?

Mike was at the counter when I clocked in, “Hey, Bella.” He greeted.

“Hey, Mike.” I returned, putting on my vest and taking a seat next to him. “Busy morning.” I joked, gesturing at the empty store.

He glanced up at me, eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Yeah, busy.” He let out a small laugh. “How are you?”

“I’m here.” I answered, grateful for the bell to sound as a few customers entered. Mike nodded and went to help them. Early on, we learned that I was best at the cash register, and Mike was best with helping customers. Maybe that was just because I had been off this plane of existence for so long. But I was pretty hopeless when it came to the outdoorsy needs.

It must have been at least two hours that he spent going over different items with them before they finally checked out.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a grizzly, that thing was bigger than any grizzlies I’ve seen.” The first one, a big burly man with an unkempt beard started, tossing his items on the counter.

“I doubt it, there’s only black bear up here, and they don’t get that big. You’ve probably only seen young grizzlies.” The other, taller and lean with tan skin stated, throwing his items next to the first man’s.

“I’ve seen a full grown grizzly, and whatever was in those woods had at least three feet on a grizzly.” The first retorted, handing me cash when I gave him his total.

“Bullshit, you’re acting like you saw Sasquatch. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you. You haven’t been the same since you stared into the sun.” The second teased, handing me his cash, a smirk on his face.

“That was years ago, and my eye sight is just fine. There’s a big ass bear in these woods.” Beardy grumbled, stomping out of the store to their truck.

“Don’t mind him, he always gets grumpy when we start trips.” The taller man said, taking his items and following the other out.

I glanced over at Mike who watched them leave then flipped the open sign to closed. He shrugged at me. “What? It’s not like there’s going to be a sudden raid for hiking equipment, especially with those two as our only customers. I can close up.”

“I’ll help, no reason for you to be stuck with the grunt work.” I stood from my stool and grabbed the broom. I started sweeping, I could feel Mike’s eyes on me. “You need something?”

He froze, his hand going behind his neck and he looked a little guilty. “We’ve missed you, Ang, Ben, even Jess, she won’t admit it.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “I guess I’ve been a bit of a hermit.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” Mike chuckled. “We’re here if you need us.”

I paused, taking in that statement. I had been so absorbed in myself the past few months, I honestly had forgotten what it was like having friends that weren’t…..them. I know last year I had been consumed by being a part of them that I had forgotten the people who were there for me first when I moved to Forks. “Thanks, Mike.” I continued to sweep, feeling a bit ashamed of the tunnel vision I had been in for the past year. The day I stepped onto the Forks campus I had been obsessed with him. And he didn’t want me, he left me, who was I without him? I finished up and gave Mike a quick goodbye, walking to my car faster than normal. I slammed the door and sped, well, moved as fast as my old girl would, and drove home. I made it halfway there before the tears started to fall. I pulled to the side of the road and threw the truck in park.

I pressed my head against the steering wheel as the sobs continued to tear through my body. I had given an entire year to him, lost myself in the fantasy of being his for eternity. I had been obsessed with immortality, the promise of never aging, never dying. And he didn’t want me, I was just a toy. I had served my purpose of amusement for a fleeting moment of his life, then I was thrown to the wolves. I almost died for him.

I froze when that thought appeared. I almost died…. For him. I put myself into danger for him. My blood was boiling, I had gone to that dance studio and been prepared to sacrifice my life. For what? A year, one fucking year and a few kisses. Kisses that were so controlled and choreographed they might has well have been a peck on the cheek. My radio broke me from my thoughts as a loud, angry song started. I looked over at my passenger seat, the old wrench sat there. Jacob had left it there, “Just in case the hood refuses to go back down, give it a good whack with this and it’ll be good as new.”

Jacob, I hadn’t seen him in a while… I shook my head and grabbed the wrench and slammed it into the radio. I kept going until the sound stopped, the radio that they had installed for my birthday was in pieces. I dropped the wrench onto the truck bench, I stared at the bent and broken plastic. The tears had stopped, the dull pain in my chest was back. I groaned, not sure how I was going to explain the mess I had made to Dad. A twig snapped in the woods to my right. I swore that I saw a flash of movement from the woods as I put the truck into gear. The two hikers had been talking about bears, maybe it was just a bear. Yeah, just a bear.

I tried to quiet my mind as I drove home, I thought today had been a good day, but breaking down in my truck and destroying the radio probably didn’t fit the definition of a good day. I had felt something though, months of floating in a void and I had felt guilty and angry. I pulled into the driveway, Dad still wasn’t home. I checked the messages on the phone, “I’ll be late tonight Bells, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab something when I’m home. Love you.”

That was something that had become more common in the past few months, Dad letting me know he loved me. He was always saying, love you, I love you. And I had started calling him Dad, not Charlie. Sure, it seemed like something that would be part of a normal father-daughter relationship. We weren’t normal, or weren’t, and now…. I might have been in another headspace, but somehow we grew closer. I walked up to my room, took a shower and crawled under my covers. “Please, just let me have a normal night.” I mumbled, and closed my eyes.

I was driving through the forest again. It was dark, the trees all looked the same. Every turn, it was the same trees. I glanced at the dashboard, the radio was back in place and the first verse of the song from earlier was blaring on repeat. The trees were a labyrinth, there was no way out. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. Then I heard a branch snap and turned my head. And he was there, eyes crimson.

“Hello, Bella.” He sneered, I caught my reflection in the window. It was Grandma Marie’s face again. Blood dripped from his fangs. “I told you my world wasn’t for you.” He lunged and I woke up, my heart racing as I tried to catch my breath. I heard Dad shuffling by the door.

“Bella? You okay?” He called, he must have just gotten home, I glanced at my alarm clock, it blinked a one at me.

“Yeah, Dad, sorry, nightmare.” I called back. “Go to bed, I’m alright.”

He grunted, but I heard him shuffle to his room. What was he doing until 1AM? He used to work late when I was younger, I remember a few nights when he was home by ten, but this, something was going on. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I just hoped that what was keeping him at work late wasn’t of the same nature as that keeping me awake.

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[thomasstalsworth]

Failure

Funny the way life changes.

Tom held that piece of concept in his mind, rolling around and around for hours. He couldn’t shake it away. The expanse of time before and the rolling hill of it ahead seemed intent on pinching some kind of influence to his brain. There were days where he had trouble telling which way was which; what way went forward and which went back.

Blinking, he tried to recall the last time he cried. No -- sobbed. There was a distinction. He knew the prick of tears rather well. Hardly a man to avoid such things, he embraced the fullness of emotion. Keeping a ‘manly’ face was no concern, surely. He had spent evenings face down in pumpkin patches and felt no squalor or shame. Tears were easy.

But sobbing was different. When the whole of the body retched and twist and gave no quarter. When the mind was so entirely lost, so fully hurled to some void or pain or -- whatever. Or whatever it was. When there was nothing left you could possibly do but spill yourself.

He tried to recall the last time he sobbed.

Was it when he died? -- Which time? That thought alone curled up a knot of some unknown power within his gut. It paid its own pennymeal to the doubt that was so very constant his companion. Yet he always came back. Long he thought that a blessing, an insurance to do as he was want to do. Years a sailor, a laborer, a man who slept in pumpkin patches.

A joke.

Across the gentle Springtide waters which lay their hands upon the shore, he stared. There was not much else to do any longer. He had heaved and sobbed and screamed, tried to slake his pain with drink and found it all the worse than without. A shame and a hate that it felt good to push himself -- again, again once more and again -- toward drink to calm his unsteady heart.

Whatever much was left of it. Perhaps he came back wrong. Or the returning was some punishment? A playstroke of divine comedy. Babble. He knew that, it was just babble to think about. Maybe he was hoping that there was something exterior he could use to blame his unerring consistency to fail.

And fail.

And fail.

The water did feel good. It was calm and cold, no longer swollen with Winter’s ire and not yet running and hardy with Summer’s joy. Springtide. A pleasant in-between that he knew. He had met that yearly whisper of tide for over four decades. A long life, moreso for the times it should have stopped.

Standing was not as easy, but stand he did. Both feet in the sand, letting the water lick at his toes. It was alarming how fast the nostalgia came back to him for when he was a boy, on the shores of Westfall and stood with his feet just the same, in the sand while --

Foot.

He looked down.

The water moved in all the same course it always did. Unerring, consistent, not unlike himself. But buoyed with natural purpose and he could not imagine what would provoke any soul to say that the water, the ocean and tide failed -- that it even could. It had no goal or task. It was, it existed, and that was all that was required.

He remembered when he was that way. It was simple. And lonely.

But was loneliness worse than the shame? The embarrassment? The failure and the doubt that tore at his gut and left him retching as though he could discard through his throat the heart that kept betraying and breaking and just -- really, really giving him a shit hand of cards.

A shit hand.

That was not right either. Again, he wanted to blame the exterior. His lips whet from a passing of the tongue in a moment of reflection on that. Had it only been hours ago that he had hollered and punished and raged at his daughter for doing the same. Not taking responsibility for her choices. Maybe he had no leg to stand on there.

Just a peg of wood.

Tom ran his tongue along his teeth, jaw flexing. He moved his glass up to his lips and drained it to the drop, letting it rattle as he put it back on the table. One hand moved up to scrape over his face, stubble rustling audibly from the motion. A finger moved out politely, despite his expression, toward Sigurd. "Sig -- y'can stay or not. Elsewise I should like ta' catch a drink with ya' in the city ta'night. Been a minute or two since we had cause ta' catch up."

He shut his eyes, occluding the brief harmony of the ocean ahead.

Of course he justified the anger that followed. It was easy to. He still held the pit of a righteous father’s rage in the low of his belly. He had given her chance, after chance, after chance. All the time in the world, he conjured, to ask for help. To answer him. To make a choice for the many instead of playing martyr. An impossible task, it seemed, to make her see that.

Perhaps he would not see it either were he in her place. How could he? He did not yet know. The world was bigger, scarier, more full of such broad and such tiny variables. An awful game of mathematics especially when one had to call to account for life.

Standing in the tide always helped with the pain.

At the time he had justified that too. The lost limb. He had to, it was that or die. Another account to pay for life. Tides knew, Light knew, all out in the Great Dark knew well enough that he had accrued an unsightly debt to that accord. How many more times could he gamble on coming back? It had failed once already. An exchange only made in the end by such an unrepeatable set of circumstances.

Standing in the tide always helped with the pain.

It helped his mind to see the water, to feel it trickle and roll over his one bare foot. It helped make that constant, unyielding sensation of the ghost of his lost limb. Always it felt like water. Water running over it, pouring over it, wet and cold. Looking down he felt better -- it matched. One foot felt it, so must the other. It helped.

Tom extended one of his sausage-like paws toward the middle of the table, elbow cocked. He opened it, flexing his fingers as he began to count down off of them. "Y'wont let me help ya'. Y'wont let yer' crew help ya'. Th'fuckin' demon, folk-fog genuine Red fuckin' Lord is out fer' you. Y'disappear fer' damn well on a month, then come back after all hell breaks loose n' press yer' ass into a squat in Stormwind."

There was a color to Tom's face, bright and not unlike a tomato, all the moreso for his gingered stubble. “I got a first mate -- an excellent sailor n' damn good friend -- nearly tortured ta' death. I got an apparent snake-heel faux-man, an elf, almost torn inside out. I got a whole crew who are so fuckin' terrified I have ta' hear worry about it through the damn dockhands because they're shakin' like fiends after not one, but two near-entire fatalities a' vessel” He kept counting off on his fingers as he went on.

Abby slammed her hand on the table getting up at -that- mention. “I did m'fuckin' best t'keep that from happenin'! T'keep it from happenin' again!”

He shut his eyes and inhaled. Sea air was good for the lungs, good for the soul. It had to be true, all the wives and fishermen and old sailors always said it. Why not let it be true?

Maybe she did.

Maybe she did her best, alone and without demand. Maybe that was character to celebrate, despite the result. Maybe things would have been worse had she done as he would have done.

Tides knew things tended to end up worse when he did what he did. It was a pattern that could have made him laugh were it not such a bellow to the fire of his shame.

“Y'had a damn chance t'talk -- sit down.”

He did give her a chance. More than one. More than just tonight. What else was a father supposed to do? Stay away, do nothing, be the absent coward. Do something, act on your wisdom and experience whatever it is, be the overbearing demon, the controller and the suffocator. Do little, but stand at the ready, a lighthouse and a pillar -- that was what he had tried to do. Give her at least one port in the storm. One place to run to. One place that gave when she needed, and held ready when she did not.

Be her father. Be better than his was. Be there.

“Now yer' playin' murder mystery here in th'Lionseat while th'whole world is tryin' it's damn hardest t'recover from what may end up bein' the bloodiest war what ever rocked th'planet. I got a good ship sittin' on its keel, in th'moors, with a first mate who gets winded goin' up the stairs, and now a captain who torches wildlife ta' blow off steam. -- An' you wont talk ta' me. Y'wont talk t'yer crew. Wont let neither help you with whatever th'fuck it is you've got goin' on. Still got no fuckin' idea why y'were gone a month, nor what happened, nor what y'decided ta' take it upon yer'self t'surrender to the RED FUCKIN' LORD WHILE I HAD CANNONS READY!”

An awful sort of mathematics, life was -- that much he had grown to understand.

A lighthouse was no aid to the sailor who kept far from shore. No light could reach those who were stubborn in their course and refused to turn away from the storm.

Tom burned a hole with his gaze, leaning back from the table.

“Moray,” Abby spoke. “Claude. -- How many more did you want me to add to that list? If I hadn't gone... that list would have been a lot longer.”

“NO -- no you -think- it would have been. Y'wanna spit yer' way through this life like you know every fuckin' thing an' all possibilties? Y'can do that. That's yer' business. Yer' a grown woman. But you can do all that one yer' own, if that's th'choice you want ta' keep making.”

What else was there to do but extinguish the light?

Fresh pain came to him. He had not thought another tear was left in his haggard skin and weary bone. But a few more. A few more he seemed able to manage. Had he done right? Had he been a father as he ought to be, as he wanted to be?

Maybe he was just like his own, just turned a few degrees of the compass. A different sort of failure.

“Righ' b'fore I lost m'stone, I said I was sorry.”

Tom took a valiant moment's effort to fill his lungs with air, “Sorry?”

“I told you that they threatened th'crew.”

He interject, “Yer' fuckin' sorry?”

Tom stared at her, genuinely waiting for something better.

“The Red Lord was at Hag Bay, and on account of me. He hurt my crew, on account of -me-. I wasn't going to drag them further in the mess, Pa. They already survived him once .... Most.”

Abby closed her eyes.

“Most survived him, most.”

Tom mealed up his mouth, tongue running hard against the inners of her teeth.

Abby opened her eyes to look back to Thomas, “So yes, I went alone after Moray. Yes, I made the deal to go and oblige so that the rest of the crew got out safe as well. So that they didn't need to die.”

“Y'lookin' for my pity right now? Martyrdom does not win you this argument, child. Nor does it give you a fuckin' leg ta' stand on when I know you are fuckin' smarter than that. Alone? Y'went alone? Same crew yer' spittin' fightin' words for, willin' to: shuck life for, were stuck tryin' desperately to hold their fuckin' ship together. No Captain, no First. Y'went alone? Y'left them alone.”

“Fine. Then punish me.”

And so he did.

Until the very end with blood in his face and harsh words and scraping teeth and anger and disagreement -- until the very end he wanted her to say something to him. Perhaps vile and perhaps sad and perhaps weak but he wanted her to say that maybe she could have used him. Just maybe things would have been better if she let him help her, let him at least be a wickie to point her compass true.

But no -- no.

Somehow, and by some means despite every ounce of love he had and want he had to be a father and to be a good father and to raise a daughter who trusted her Pa, trusted her family, or at the damn least trusted her crew --

He failed.

It seemed that was what he did best.

A seagull squawked at him as it passed. So late in the evening, on into the pale-grey settling where it was not quite night but not quite morning, it squawked at him. Mocking? Maybe. But maybe not. Even he knew better than to wallow in that much self-pity.

He sighed, and moved his toes in the water. Just like when he was a boy. Westfall. The first coast he had ever seen other than Crestfall. A hand came up to rub his jaw.

The anger was wrong. He knew that. Any Captain worth running sail under knew that. Anger did not make a sturdy crew, a stalwart crew, a family. But she was his daughter and despite everything, circumstance and oddity and the unending bivouac of life, he wanted so badly to help her, to keep her safe. To have that refused over and over .. he knew no answer other than resignation and the familiar sting of failure or anger. Anger felt good at the time.

It did not now.

Tom stared at her a moment, his eyes wide and no lighter the anger in them. But he exhaled, relinquished his hands from the table and stood up with a grunt.

Abby looked at him.

Tom spoke, “A'right. You wanna be on yer' own, deal with everythin' yer' own damn self, not let family, not let -crew- help you. Y'wanna be an island? Fine. Be an island. Yer' grounded an' stripped. Moray'll helm th'Dolphin back to Stormholme fer' reassignment. In th'time you've been sittin' here at harbour we could have sent two round trips from Barrowfield ta' Stormholme an' had grain ta' feed the refugees around Warfang's holdouts. Y'can add those lives to yer' martyr-list.”

It had hurt worse than his leg. It had hurt in a way that he did not know he could hurt. Life has a powerful capacity, he had begun to understand, to inflict ever worse punishments to the soul. In all the manners of darkstroke humor and irony that he could conjure, and more. And even giving in to that hurt wounded him all the more, as it was selfish. Selfish to feel pity for himself, to feel as if he did not deserve it. Maybe he did. It was all just mud anymore.

“Admiral.”

Abby stared him down.

“I ain't yer' Admiral anymore, child,” he cut back.

“Father.”

“So now it's time ta' talk like family?”

“It's never been time to talk like family because you don't want to -talk-. You want to lecture. You want to get mad.”

Maybe she was right about that too.

Tom held up a finger, “No no. Put that martyr, that victim card away. Ain't no use here at a table with adults. You want t'argue I'm unfair? Argue.”

Abby clenched her jaw.

“Very well. I will have my effects removed from the Dolphin by morning. -- And return to the Red Lord within a few weeks end, I'm sure.”

And there it was. Even to the bitter end, he tried to give her the chance. Take the rope, take the rope, please Tides almighty I know I know just please take the rope --

Then she left.

Then he left.

Then he found himself standing in the tidewater just before the break of dawn, unable to sleep, spending the entire night retching and screaming and sobbing and wanting so desperately and pathetically to wither in on himself so he did not have to face the fact that he was, to the bone, a failure. A failed father, a failed Admiral, a failed man. And to somehow come to terms with that, and the responsibilities that he still had despite such.

He looked back to the little inlet, the beach head and small cove he had tread to from the harbour. North of the Stormwind lighthouse, a little fishing nook he knew well. High tide never quite reached it and he had slept there his share of times. But now it was his wife sleeping there with him. The only real lighthouse he knew: his anchor. He used to think he was hers as well.

Maybe not an anchor, maybe just dead weight.

Elaianna jogged forward to catch up once more and gently tried to pluck the bottle free from his grasp. "-Thomas Stalsworth,-" she breathed exasperatedly. Tom stopped in his step, not about to fight with his wife over a simple bottle of rotgut, ���I'm not doin' it. I'm not doin' this right now, a'right?”

Elaianna hooked her finger in the collar of his tunic so he could not pull away.

Tom did not fight off her hand, but he did not move.

“You're frightening me, Thomas. Not in a spooky sort of terror, but it's a different sort of fear. Just look me in the eyes and tell me everything will be alright. Can you do that for me?”

Tom whet his lips slowly, fat tongue lolling out. He exhaled, draining all the air from his lungs until he was barren of it. A man on the bottom of the sea. He actually had cause to understand the sensation now. He would have preferred to be back there, in some ways. "Everything'll be fine. Jus' as it's always fine. I'm fine. Aye? There it is."

He tried not to think about what they had said next, what he had said. The weakness.

But she had comforted him, consoled him no matter how hard he tried to make her leave and let him sit in his sorrow in the tidewater alone. It was more than he deserved, he knew that.

The bare glimmer of a false dawn started. He could tell the difference. Enough years at sea, staring out at the horizon -- it became second nature. A false dawn, not quite the first light. In his diminished, damaged state he found it quite appropriate.

@abighail-atwater​

@elaianna​

[lady-divine-writes]

Saturday with the Boys (Rated T)

(Because I needed some general hijinks with Crowley, Adam, and Warlock. XD Inspired by this post.)

“How much do you want for this here picture frame, ma’am?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, dear. It should be marked.” Wilma pulls her reading glasses down from her white crown and examines the ceramic frame. She actually knows how much she’s asking for it. It says clearly on the front – five pounds. But this man more than likely wants to haggle. So she procrastinates parting with that information, slowly fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose for show. She’s had 20/20 vision since childhood, and at seventy-seven, that hasn’t changed a whit. But she milks this moment, making herself seem more infirm than she honestly is in the hopes of getting a few pity pounds out of this poor schlub who happened upon her yard sale on this fine Saturday morning.

To be honest, she bought this God awful picture frame on her disaster of a third honeymoon. The whole marriage was ripe for the rubbish heap about four months in and yet she stayed with her darling Henry till the man died of sepsis a year ago – a week before his life insurance policy matured.

This frame is all she has left to remember him by.

Well, this frame, a house, a vacation property in Belize, and a ten million pound inheritance.

If no one buys the stupid thing, she’s going to toss it into the air and shoot it with an air rifle.

“I’m … I’m having a bit of trouble reading this, love,” she says in an appropriately quavering voice, pointing to the tag in the corner. “Does this say five pounds? Or fifteen? It’s been such a long morning out here in the sun. I can’t seem to tell …”

“How about I give you twenty and we call it a day?” the man holding the frame, a soon-to-be-present for his new wife, offers with a smile.

“Oh!” Wilma feigns astonishment while inside her head she pats herself on the back for playing him for a sucker. God, she should have been an actress! She squandered so much of her long life as a common housewife. “That’s so gracious of you! Thank you, my dear!”

“You’re more than wel—“

The end of his sentence gets severed by a vintage car screeching up to the curb and stopping with a jerk. The doors fly open and three people race out – a tall, lanky man with flaming red hair and sunglasses, dressed all in black like an undertaker, accompanied by two young boys around twelve – one with straight black hair, the other a curly dirty blonde. The curly-haired boy hugs a black-and-white terrier to his chest, whispering to it as all three plus dog race over to Wilma, sitting bewildered at her card table beneath a large oak tree.

And they look in a panic.

“Excuse … excuse me,” the curly-haired boy begins, “but we need to see any cursed amulets you may have for sale!”

“Wh—what?” Wilma asks, eyeing the three suspiciously, the dog especially. “What are you going on about?”

“Please!” the dark-haired boy begs. “It’s a matter of life or death!”

The dog barks. The curly-haired boy hugs him.

“It’s all right, Kevin,” he coos. “We’ll get this curse reversed. I promise you.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” the man buying the frame asks incredulously.

“I can assure you it isn’t,” the tall man says seriously. “We’ve had a bit of a run in with … with … well, uh …” He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, looking down and to the side, hard to tell through the dark lenses of his glasses.

“Well, spit it out, mate!” the man says. “A run in with a what?”

“A … a …”

A demon,” the dark-haired boy finishes, a peculiar twist to the corner of his mouth that makes the man with the frame suspect he might be lying.

“Right,” he says, moving in front of Wilma to guard her from these three hooligans trying to pull a horrible prank on this poor old woman.

The dog whines, sounding for all intents and purposes desperate, and the curly-haired boy sighs. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but we’re telling the truth!”

“It won’t be Halloween for ages, young man, so I suggest the three of you climb back in the car you rode in on and get out of here before I phone the authorities!”

“Don’t do that!” the black-haired boy cries. “We’re not trying to cause trouble! Honest!”

“No! No, do!” the tall man says as if the man with the frame just came up with the best solution ever. “Maybe they can help! Do you happen to have the phone number of a local priest perhaps? Maybe a shaman?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” frame man scolds, turning on him with venom in his voice. “Encouraging these boys to participate in this reprehensible behavior!”

“Reprehensible!?” the man in the glasses scoffs. “Right! And what do you expect me to tell Kevin’s mum when we bring home a dog instead of her little boy? Hmm? Sorry, ma’am! We could have helped him out, but we didn’t want to disturb the neighbors! They have a right to sell their tacky goods in peace, your son be damned!”

“Are you mad!?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be pleased that the wretched animal appears to be potty trained at least. And uni? No need for that! Think of all the money she’ll save!”

“Look, young man,” Wilma interrupts finally, having tried this entire time to figure out if there was anything on her table that she could pass off as a cursed amulet. Unfortunately, the only thing that might have sufficed walked away for seven pounds over an hour ago. The man in front of them, going on about demons and dogs like a nutter, might be insane, but if she’s right, that watch he’s wearing is worth a pretty penny. And driving an antique Bentley in mint condition? He could at least afford a hundred pounds or more for some useless bauble. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but could you please move along? You’re scaring away paying …”

The dog in the boy’s arms growls, long and low, a menacing curdle that stops all conversation dead, everyone within a hundred feet suddenly fearing for their lives.

“Uh … Kevin?” the boy says while everyone but the tall man takes a step back, eyes glued to the animal as if expecting him to explode. And he does in a sense, letting loose with the loudest, angriest bark ever to come from an animal, his mouth opening wide, unhinged, revealing seven rows of razor sharp teeth.

And for a split second, his eyes glow red.

“Saints preserve us!” Wilma mutters, crossing herself with a shaking hand and standing so quickly, her chair topples backwards.

“It’s getting worse!” The boy carrying the terrier looks to the man in the dark glasses for help.

“I was afraid of this,” he says. “Get him back to the car, boys! I don’t think an amulet can save us now! Best to get him away from these God fearin’ people before … you know.”

“Before … before what?” Wilma calls after them, too terrified to follow for an answer.

“You don’t want to know,” the boy with the straight black hair says.

“I recommend you all go inside, find your crosses and your Bibles and start to pray,” the man in the glasses says, holding the door to his car open for the boys and the dog. “I feel … judgement day a’comin’.” He looks skyward, examining the clouds, frowning at something that only he sees. The man clutching the frame and Wilma look up, too, trying to see it, but all they see are clouds. Nothing more threatening than that.

But Wilma in particular, as devout a Christian as her Christmas and Easter attendance can attest, isn’t about to admit that.

“Oh dear Lord! Everyone! Get inside! Quickly!” Crowley hears as he climbs into his Bentley and peels away, trying to restrain his laughter until they’re completely out of earshot. Once they turn the corner and tear up the following block, Warlock and Adam crow.

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” Warlock snickers, putting out a fist for Crowley to bump.

“I know!” Adam giggles, wrapping his arms around Dog’s neck. “That was even better than the last one!”

“How’s about we call it a day and go get some ice cream?” Crowley suggests. “I think that guy with the frame might actually call the police.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Adam says. “I think Dog’s had enough. Or should I say Kevin.”

“Oh, all right,” Warlock agrees, even though he was really hoping they’d hit one more yard sale before the day was up. But ice cream is cool, too. Less of a chance of getting him dragged back to mom and dad by the police.

Of course, that’s never been too big an issue since Nanny is always there to bail him out.

“And remember, darlings,” Crowley says, merging on to the M40, “what’s the most important thing to keep in mind about today’s little adventure?”

“Don’t tell Aziraphale,” both boys say in unison.

Crowley peeks into his rearview, beaming at the two boys with pride. “Brilliant.”

[thebastardmeteocrusherpilot]

02 and 11

SEND 

02. A memory from your character’s teenage years.

[ warning : Death mention. Long post ] 

[ Read on to find out about Aaron Galaxicos' childhood friends!]

Long ago this scene happens. Far from the modern civilization of Corneria City, where nature still invades around in the city of Green Valley. As it was night, many men and women wore their best coats before entering that gray building, surrounded by withered flowers. The dim lighting outside the room showed that there is a boy leaning against a tree. That boy was just a fifteen year old Aaron Galaxicos.

Many older people told the boy that smoking at his age was not favorable, but the chimpanzee boy always ignored such advice in his rebellious attitude, and he was right there. Smoking a cigarette or two, not wanting to go in and see his mother cry like a little girl. After all, it was a funeral home where guests entered.

While the young man ignored the greetings of his father's friends in his solitude, a young foal, a yellow donkey of about sixteen, dressed in his best mourning clothes, approaches Aaron silently but surely.

"Hello Aaron".

"Hey Bob, did your mommy buy you those clothes like always?" It was a common response from Aaron to deflect the elephant in the room. For many, a cruel response to a friendly greeting, but Bobby knows the boy Galaxicos well.

"Heh! You have caught me again! You always guess, Aaron! " Laugh again three more times. Trying to brighten the moment, but Aaron continues to smoke and without a response from him, Bobby becomes uncomfortable.

The two young men fell into a long silence. He only had a small part of the chimpanzee boy's cigarette left before he finished the cigarette, and without looking at the donkey, he stretches out his hand to offer him some to smoke with the box still full.

"Oh no thanks Aaron! You know my father doesn't like me to smoke! “ And in panic Bobby covers his mouth, his ears drooping from nerves. "Oops, excuse me, Aaron."

“Come on, Bobby, just say what you want to say and go inside with your family. Surely they want their polite son to rub his tears in front of my mother ”.

"Oh ..." Bobby only manages to say that in response. It was all too noticeable that Aaron didn't want any hint of pity from the other families on this cold night. After all, the man inside that coffin was nobody special but Jonathan.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what happened to your father." Without haste and without shame, Bobby already said what he wanted to say.

"No problem. He was going to die at any moment as well.” The foal lowers his ears again at Aaron's cold response.

“Nobody expected it, Aaron. As soon as my father heard that they found your father, uh, dead in the bathroom, he was quite surprised. And also in such a horrible way ... his blood staining the white marble wall ... ”.

"Have you been reading your mystery books again or what?" Aaron stares at the colt roughly.

"yes. Why you ask?".

"Agh! Forget it “ The young chimpanzee throws his cigarette into the garbage can next to him. Settling back in the tree "I've heard the same story over and over again, Bob, and I was hoping you could tell me something else, but you're just like the fools at the funeral."

"Excuse me again, Aaron. But what else can I say at a time like this, and not feel sorry for you and your mother? You have barely had your birthday two weeks ago, and from here I can hear your mother still crying " Bobby slaps his forehead " Oh right, my mother wanted me to give this to you. " He offers a nice bouquet of dahlias to young Galaxicos. Aaron just grabs it without looking at Bobby's face.

"Thank you". Another silent moment between the two once again rules the funeral home garden. Guests keep coming with bouquets of different kinds of flowers with them.

“Another detail I wanted to tell you is that my family and neighbors are also thinking of offering collaborations for you and your mother. I'm sure your father has left money for his life insurance, but just in case, we are always with open arms to help you ”.

"Hm" Galaxicos thinks for a few minutes. Although his father was always very strict about keeping the family money and that it was well paid in the factory, he knew that it would not be enough for the next few months, much less with a teenage son and a widowed woman. "If that is true, then I'd really appreciate that, Bobby. "

Bobby smiles. "Yes! Do not worry! Surely all will go wonderfully! And don't worry so much about your dad's death either! Because we are sure they will find your father's murderer! "

Aaron just rolls his eyes at that positive comment "yes, yes, I know, I know, I know ..." Then suddenly, the young man stops his sarcasm when he hears the last sentence. "wait a minute! Did you say murderer? "

"Y-yes! Or is it not that your father was found dead in a murder case? Bobby lowers his long ears again when he notices Aaron looking at him again, but with a very pouting expression. The situation becomes more uncomfortable for the foal when he feels the young chimpanzee's hairy hand gripping his snout tightly.

"Stupid four-eyed horse with the brain in the ass! No one has killed my father! He died in the bathroom by himself! "

Bobby went into a panic. Unable to speak because of the chimpanzee's strong grip on his snout. "W-what? Has he really done that ?! But your dad- ”Another squeeze on his snout.

"Fool!  It wasn't that either! My father died in the bathroom because the idiot didn't want to pick up a soap on the floor while taking a bath and he tripped over it! "

The awkward aura between the two youths grew again as Aaron yelled out everything he wanted to say. Bobby has no words to say but to turn red from his embarrassment.

"Oh, oh man, I thought it was something else." Uncomfortable. Aaron lies back down in the tree while lighting a new cigarette. The young colt just runs his hands between himself as he thinks of something else to talk about. His embarrassment wouldn't go away, and he just wanted to apologize.

"Sorry-"

Aaron raises his hand in front of the equine's muzzle. “Enough Bobby. You already said a lot ".

Another silent moment. Bobby just stands still as he watches cigarette smoke drift through the air. While savoring the flavor of tobacco, Aaron only concentrates his eyes on the star-painted sky.

"Well, uhm ..." Bobby tries to fit the words in his mind "It must have been your dad's mistake. Even though I don't know, he didn't want to pick up the soap? And why didn't he?

"You know what my father was like, Bobby."

"Hm. I know".

The two boys then stay to watch the stars. At any moment the undertakers would close the coffin and carry the fallen man away to bury him in the garden.

"By the way, why did you think my father was killed?"

It was a quick question that Bobby was scared of. But he didn't feel uncomfortable answering.

"Oh well. Because of how your dad was, I always believed that someone would have a cruel plan with him. But I guess soap was more dangerous for your dad "

"Mhm ..."

Aaron's ear focused on listening as several men cheered their mother into the garden. Emma would surely cry all night, regretting being a single woman now. Although he looked carefree to the guests and to Bobby, the young Galaxicos admitted years later that he felt strange how his life would change on that day. But he would not allow the public to see his feelings, but only to a boy and his cigarettes.

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

11. Describe your character’s childhood friends.

[ Galaxicos has had several friendships in his childhood. They weren't really the best of friends, but they were kids that the little bastard brat could have nice times to have a normal childhood. But if we have to talk about friends, those would be two: Bobby Jones and Lola McGlynn were the best friends of little Aaron Galaxicos since elementary school.

Bobby (Sometimes called Bob by Aaron) met Aaron when his family moved next door to the Galaxicos house. At first the little chimpanzee boy does not like Bobby's polite personality when he meddles in his antics, but noticing the foal's intelligence to create new jokes and games, Aaron decides that he and Bobby should be friends. Aaron's father would also accept his son's relationship with the little donkey boy, despite not having a good image of the boy because of his unmanly personality and being that kind of animal.

Their relationship was difficult at first, but Aaron would learn to appreciate Bobby's caring help even as a teenager. And when Aaron decides to become a rebellious kid in Green Valley, he invites (or actually forces) Bobby to join his little gang as the brain of the group.

I designed Bobby (in his child and adolescent version) mainly inspired by the idea that he looks like a nerdy cliche boy with a submissive personality in his eyes. Clearly the first character that came to mind in its development was Milhouse Van Hounten from The Simpsons.

Lola McGlynn would be Aaron Galaxicos' second best friend. Raised to be the perfect Green Valley model girl, little Lola found no real fun around girls her age. One day, Lola finds Aaron and Bobby doing their thing, and noting that the boys had fun being rebellious with the strict adults of the city, she prefers to join them to the horror of the other girls, although she only does it at first for own fun. Unlike Bobby who sees Aaron as a good friend, Lola and Aaron had frequent fights over how to develop the pranks or who is in charge. It was also because Aaron still treats Lola with "boy vs girl" eyes at their age. 

(By the way, her hairstyle is based on the character Quino’s Mafalda on her child age ).

When Lola turns fifteen, and even being raised with the idea of ​​being a model lady for her family, the chimpanzee girl reunites with Aaron and Bobby in their gang of rebellious youths. To save herself from the punishment of her parents and the sexist society of the Green Valley men, Lola would dress as a boy and call herself Lolo standing next to Aaron and Bobby.

Lola is a character with a strong character like Aaron Galaxicos. Willing to commit mischief or rebellion for her own pleasure, and to have no problem fighting against the old fools of the town or with other boys her age. The big difference between Lola and Aaron is that she has her limits and rules, and one of those is not letting her own feelings guide her and committing a cruel or strong crime against someone. It is Lola who actually stops Galaxicos when the young rebel wants to commit a dangerous attack on someone, or act disrespectful to her. That is why even the two continue to have fights since they were young, it is even Lola who decides to tell Aaron to his face many times that he is a horrible person.

The end of the friendship between the Green Valley gang happens when, being of legal age, Bobby decides to move to Corneria City to pursue a professional career (although he promises to continue speaking from the camera in his apartment). Lola and Aaron would continue to see each other and get together on special occasions or when possible, but in the end, they each take a different direction in their life. Aaron would leave Green Valley at age twenty-three for Corneria City while Lola remains in the country town. ]

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

OkCryptid

Ok so I found an amazing post about a dating app for our monster S. O.’s and since it’s ORCTOBER I was like YES I NEED THIS. So even though I’m in school. I still wanna do this. It’s rather short but it’s cute. And @thetravelerwrites​ and @thetravelerscompanion​ they wanted to be tagged. So here you go. I hope you all enjoy it too. 

Orctober- OkCryptid

You were sitting on the couch playing a game on your tablet while your daughter watched TV on a quiet Wednesday night, it was just the two of you. You were a single mom, a widow to be exact and your number one priority was always taking care of your daughter Anarra, who was 8, and when your husband had died about a year ago, he left you with quite the life insurance policies through work and a private policy which meant that you and your daughter were taken care of financially for many years to come. You had already gone back to school before he died and had gotten your license to be a massage therapist, so you already had your own business, working part time at a nearby salon that your best friend Dawn owned and you made your own hours and because you had incorporated yourself to make your own business, when your husband had died, it was easy to get health insurance for you and your daughter and because of his life insurance policies, you still didn’t need to work full time and you and your daughter could live very comfortably. You were lucky. 

But, you were also lonely. Granted you were no stranger to vibrators so your “needs” were mostly taken care of. But it’s just...not the same. You were a half elf and half human and your husband was mixed too, his father was half human and half orc while his mother was half human and half dwarf and he had turned out to simply look half human and half orc. And Anarra reflected all of that, she had your husbands blonde hair, compared to your dark auburn, your turquoise eyes and your shared fair skin tone, she was just as beautiful as you were at her age but she definitely had the more slender but very physically fit physique of an elf where as you were very voluptuous thanks to your human heritage. 

But lately, you just wanted...something more, it was fall, you missed cuddling on the couch under throw blankets and having date night with your husband and just...well... honestly you missed that good bone rattling sex where your husband would bend you over the kitchen island yank your pants and panties down to your knees, spread your legs, before sliding into you, grab your hips and pound into you from behind until you were sure you were going to break the god damn kitchen island! No vibrator could really do that. 

“Mom?” Anarra suddenly asked, pulling you out of your lewd thoughts. 

“Hmm?” Came your reply. 

“Are you gonna start dating again?” She asked which made you shake your head before you looked at her incredulously. 

“Why do ask? Do you want me to start dating again?” You asked. 

“Well, if you wanted to, I know you miss dad and I do too, but there’s lots of other kids that don’t have moms and you’re a really great mom and if any of those kids had a dad but not a mom and maybe they’re like us and their dad is a really great dad and together we could be a family, I'd be ok with that.” She offered and you wanted to burst into tears at her sweetness and thoughtfulness. 

“Ok, well if you’re ready, we could look together.” You offered before you got your phone out and downloaded OkCryptid and together you made a profile before you went through who you were matched up with already before you found a few profiles that looked good, you cross referenced them via Facebook, a few immediately became disqualified by some of the contents and pictures you found that they were tagged in before there was just a handful of possible options, two were just single guys, three were single dads, a human, an elf, and an orc. The human though was looking for an elf, the elf was also looking for an elf and the orc...judging by his kids, had been married to a human before because his two kids looked like half orc and half human to you but you couldn’t be sure but he was “open to anything" species wise. Within half an hour all three dads were in your inbox and a few of the single guys you had already disqualified who once they found out you were a mom, weren’t interested in being a father, but were interested in “hooking up with a hot milf” to which you politely declined. 

So you set up dates with all of the single fathers since they didn’t have any issue with you already having a child of your own, one Friday night, one Saturday night and the third on Sunday night, all at the same place. A famous trampoline park chain - since they all had kids. 

Friday came and it was the human up first. Daniel, father of two very rowdy, misbehaving, disrespectful, hellion boys. He was divorced and you could immediately tell why she left him, he just oozed self entitled asshole. He was disappointed and actually repulsed that you were curvy, thinking that because you were half elf, judging by your ears and features in your selfie, that you’d be skinny, but he seemed to make peace with it as he poked and prodded at your personal life and seemed especially keen on how much your husband’s life insurance policies were and if there was anything left or if “you had blown it all shopping for clothes and makeup” and when he asked about what you did for a living, he was thrilled then propositioned you for a “happy ending” massage which you promptly shut down and threatened to call the police because that was illegal which he backed off and backpedaled and apologized and said he was “only joking” and that you “need to lighten up”, yeah right. From there, all he cared about was how much you worked, how much you made, if you had a good credit score, if you had any STD’s, how clean you kept your house and how good of a cook you were and how good you were at laundry because he and his boys were “tough on clothes”. That date lasted a whole 30 minutes and was the longest 30 minutes of your life and you had hit the liquor store on the way home and even Anarra was relieved it wasn't going to work out because those boys were really rough in their play and it took an orc halfling who she was friends with to come over and tell them to go away and rescue her before he brought her over to play with his little sister who was a year younger than Anarra but the same size. 

Saturday, was the elf’s date, Althidon, he was also divorced, had nothing but condescending bullshit to say and had two very pretty girls who were the quintessential "mean popular girls" who you wanted to slap, he was disappointed you weren’t more elf like in body shape and the fact that you were half human made him turn his nose up at you and the fact that you worked “such a meanial job” that you “needed to be rescued from” because it was beneath anything that had any trace of elf blood in it because if an elf woman had to work- it should be something more “dignified” like a doctor- lawyer- ceo type since he was an architect himself and the fact that all the education you had was a highschool deploma and massage liscence, which he automatically assumed he knew more about your job than you did because “it couldn’t possibly be that hard” because he was “an intelectual” with a “top 3% IQ” and that you had never really “applied yourself” and were “hindered by your human half” but that was only after he inquired how much your late husband’s life insurance polices were and if you had spent it all yet, yeah- fuck no, there was no way in hell you were going to tell him something like that. That date lasted not even 20 minutes. Again, the longest 20 minutes of your life. 

By Sunday, you were beyond tired, beyond disheartened because they both had been in love with your face but repulsed by your body and obviously only thought you were worth their time if you were going to center your life around them or was a cash cow for them. No fucking thank you, you were going to be happy with your vibrators, you didn’t need this shit. You were about to delete the app because surely nothing good could come of it. All these guys wanted was to either hook up, or a fucking mother to take care of them and their little hellions. Ugh!

So with a heaving sigh you prepared yourself to meet with the last guy, Dektar. You showed up fifteen minutes early, got a drink and managed to slip a little bottle of cherry rum into your Dr. Pepper as you looked out of the corner of your eye as an orc was doing the same thing to his drink and you both noticed the other and recognized the other, you both had seen the other here before, but you always seemed to sit at opposite ends of the little cafe area when he wasn’t sitting in the massage chairs scattered throughout the rest of the trampoline park which the cafe area actually wasn’t that big, you kind of sort of knew him. He was Dex, he brought his boy and his girl here usually on Friday nights and stayed until glow night which was the last two hours the place was open on Fridays and you’ve actually been seeing him around for several months. His daughter was Talna, who was a year younger than Anarra but about the same size and his boy was Tark, they were actually really well behaved and played well with Anarra and the few times they had hurt themselves, you had been there with bandaids and neosporin and a kiss to the booboo to save the day because your own daughter was a little accident prone and you were always prepared which Dex was always grateful and appreciative of. 

“Long day?” He asked. 

“Very long weekend, you?” You asked as you nodded over to his drink and the face he made- made you giggle. 

“That bad huh?” You asked which he nodded emphatically to. 

“You?” He nodded over to you. 

“Oh, one of the worst I’ve had in awhile.” You said before you glanced up at the clock again. 

“Waiting for someone?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my date.” You answered. 

“Me too.” He nodded. 

“Really? Who are you waiting on?” You asked, curiously. 

“Brillianna Sarsys.” He answered as he looked at his phone again. 

“...Dektar Bruke?” You asked as you realized he actually was your date! He seemed to realize the same thing at the same time, relief clearly on his face. 

“Oh, hi,” He waived awkwardly before he got his stuff as you got your stuff and you met at a table in the middle. 

“Hi, I thought your name was Dex?” You recalled. 

“A lot of people can’t seem to pronounce it correctly, they think it’s Dexter so I’ve gone by Dex for decades now. And I thought your name was Bri- as in Brianna.” He chuckled in amusement. 

“Yeah, most people can’t get my name right either, it’s been Bri since elementary school, also decades.” You laughed. "Well let me just say I'm so happy and relieved that you're someone I kinda sorta know already." You laughed.

"Likewise. So what's made your weekend so bad and so long?" He asked curiously.

"Oh the other dates I've had this weekend. They were complete disasters. I got on OkCryptid because I've been a widow for a little over a year and my daughter basically gave me the go ahead that she was ready to move on so earlier this week, I made a profile and you were one of my matches.” You explained. 

“So the other matches weren’t great?” He guessed. 

“Oh my gods were they the worst! Uh the single guys I was matched up with only wanted to hook up, which I’m not into casual sex, I don’t have anything against others who are into that, it’s just not for me. Otherwise I’ve only gone on two other dates, the first was a human, who thought I was “exotic” because I was half elf but disappointed I was fat, he had two boys that I’m sure if I had to mother them, I’d break a belt or two whooping them because they were just the worst, really rough, really rude, really crude and basically bullys and I would put them on any domestic terrorist list and potential shooter list if I could.” You listed off. “And because I am a licensed massage therapist he of course was all about the “happy ending massage” which is propositioning which is illegal, I did actually call the cops on his ass.” You added as Dex looked both sickened and enraged. 

“Yuck.” Dex snarled in disgust. 

“I know right? So that was my Friday night. Saturday night I had a date with an elf, who was actually disgusted I was half human, thought my job was meaneal and beneath anything that had even a drop of elf blood running through its veins. He only seemed to care about how much my husband’s life insurance policies were and his daughters were literally mini “mean popular girls” who I would again- slap their mouths off if I had to mother them. So yeah, lovely weekend.” You quipped sarcastically. “My week was actually just fine, just the last two days have been particularly awful.” You explained before you took a long sip of your spiked Dr. Pepper. “So how has your week been?” You asked. 

“Oh, just as awful, I also had two dates, but I didn’t bring them here, we went out to eat. The first was a single woman who thought she knew how to parent my kids better than me and had nothing but opinions about how I was raising my kids all wrong because even though she has no kids herself she has a degree in it apparently.” He began as you grimaced. 

“Yikes.” You hissed. “I hate that don’t you? When people who don’t have kids, usually aren’t even married feel they’re qualified to give advice? Or the people whose kids are the worst, think they’re the perfect parent.” You offered. 

“Yes! It drives me up the wall! Now I have seen the way you are with your daughter and she’s awesome so obviously you’re doing something right, I think it’s probably the fact that you’re willing to actually discipline her.” He ventured. 

“Oh very much so and I’ve noticed your kids are really well behaved too, I’d think I’d be safe to assume you do too.” You returned as he grinned proudly. 

“I’ve been known to get after them when the occasion arises.” He nodded in confirmation. 

“So was that it or was there more?” You asked before he rolled his eyes and shook his head before taking a long pull from his drink too. 

“I wish I could say yes but sadly no, I’ve been on OkCryptid for three months and so far it really hasn’t worked out, most women just want to hook up or if they are looking for a relationship, they don’t want kids or especially if they have careers, they don’t want to give that up which I get it, some women have the “mom chip” and some don’t and if you don’t- don’t have kids but they’re usually “overwhelmed” by my situation, which I can empathize with, because I have a difficult situation to deal with. Going into a family with kids can be overwhelming.” He explained. “Honestly you were my last attempt, if it wasn’t going to work with you, I was going to delete the app and just try dating the old fashioned way, actually what’s funny is if you had not been well... you I my plan was to ask you out this Friday when I saw you again.” He confessed. 

“Aww, that’s sweet and I would have been open to that.” You admitted. “Also, wow you’ve been on there for 3 months? I can’t imagine sticking it out that long. I’ve only been on there a week and I’m ready to throw in the towel.” You admitted. 

“Yeah, well it’s kind of...well...a coincidence that we’re in similar situations, we’re both widowed, both with kids and just both of us looking for a decent parent because I was in the same boat as you, it wasn’t until my kids suggested I get back into the dating game before I did.” He ventured. 

“It is a coincidence. And I don’t have to tell you that as a parent you’re ready and willing to do whatever it takes to take care of your children and protect them yet teach them at the same time and while I’m sure you’re probably just as lonely as I can be sometimes, you’ll put up with it and endure it because you need to be picky about who and what is around and influencing your children and you should be guarded, they’re great kids and they need to be protected.” You insisted and he looked at you like you were the most amazing being in the universe. And before you knew it, you were both leaning forward across the table and talking like you were long lost best friends and this felt so natural and it was so easy to talk to each other and actually shared some of the deeper parts of yourselves with each other and come to find out, his wife was a human orc halfling, she had been an absolute sweetheart and been such a great mom and cancer had come out of nowhere and by the time she started showing signs she was sick, it was too late and they couldn’t save her and it had absolutely devastated the family. 

You shared that your husband had gone for a motorcycle ride and a driver didn’t see him and changed lanes and side swiped him and pushed him into a cement barrier on the highway and even though he had been wearing a helmet and an armored motorcycle jacket and every piece of safety gear possible, it wasn’t enough. And he didn’t press or even hint at wanting to know how much you had gotten in life insurance policies, he was simply content and happy in the knowledge that you were taken care of and doing well and able to stand on your own two feet. 

You quickly exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch and made plans for a second date and when he kissed you right before you parted, it stole your breath away. 

Ok, so OkCryptid was actually amazing.

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

AN: Welcome to my newest Snowing story! I'm really excited about this one and blending the worlds of Once and Manifest. I did not classify this as a crossover, because that's not really what it is. This is a Manifest type story with mostly Once characters. I have kept a couple Manifest characters and a few minor ones may pop up. The notable Manifest characters I have kept so far are Vance and Olive as Snowing's daughter. You also do not have to worry about any love triangles for Snowing. That's not my thing and this will always be a Snowing story.

Another thing to note is that I've taken some liberties with the relationships as well. Most notably, Emma and David are siblings and they grew up with Mary Margaret, so Emma and Mary Margaret are very close as well. Due to Robert being a drunk after Ruth dies, David and Mary Margaret pretty much raised Emma while raising themselves. Another thing to note, Henry is in the place of Cal here as Snowing's son and Emma's nephew. Most everything else will become clear as you read. I hope you enjoy this new story and join me on another journey. This one will update on Monday nights. Chapter 1 tonight and chapter 2 next Monday. Then this one will go to bi-weekly updates on Monday nights. Please leave a review and give feedback! It is much appreciated and most know that I always respond to reader reviews at the beginning of every chapter. Enjoy!

Lightning in a Bottle

Chapter 1: Lightning Crashes

April thirteen, two thousand fourteen. It was a day that would be burned into her brain forever. For it was the day that her entire world collapsed to ruin.

The day had started out wonderfully. It was the end of their family vacation and she awoke as she always did. Ensconced in the arms of the love of her life.

Things had been difficult lately. Not really in their marriage; that had always been and always would be solid and wonderful. Love had never been difficult for them. It was everything else around them and with their son's cancer, it was taking its toll on them all. They were facing the very real possibility of losing him in six months to a year and they didn't know how they were going to get through it.

The trip had been her idea and she had begged him to go. They needed this time as a family, away from the reality of their day to day lives, and mostly away from the hospital.

After their first day there, he admitted right away that she had been right. For this short week, they had been able to almost forget about their son's cancer. Everyone had and it was a blessing. But today, they would return to reality and she was not looking forward to it.

They had spent the morning in bed, making love and marveling at how even after fifteen years of marriage, the passion hadn't dulled and their love had only grown. If only they weren't facing a crushing death sentence with their son. Even together, they weren't sure how they were going to get through it.

Inevitably, they eventually arrived at the airport to catch their flight and she couldn't know that was when their lives would irrevocably change forever.

To look at them, they seemed like a typical family, though she and they had always known that the love they shared was unlike most. Not very many people believed in true love anymore, let alone actually found it. But they had and it was prevalent and evident in all aspects of their lives.

But to the casual passerby, they seemed very typical. David and Margaret Nolan. The Nolan family. They had been married for fifteen years now and had twins, a boy and a girl. Then there was David's younger sister Emma, who had also been Margaret's best friend since they were all kids. Since childhood, Mary Margaret had been a part of their family and the three of them had always been thick as thieves.

Mary Margaret's mother had died when she was just ten and it was then that she dropped the Mary in her name and started going by Margaret. Her mother had always called her Mary for short and it became pretty painful then. Emma and David had always affectionately called her MM anyway, so Margaret was an easy transition for them. After her mother Eva died, her father, who was a wall street King, poured himself into his work even more than before and her nanny, Johanna, had mysteriously quit after Eva died. But Margaret spent most of her time at the Nolan house anyway at that point.

David and Emma's parents, Ruth and Robert, loved her as their own. Unfortunately, Ruth was killed not long after Eva, when Emma was only ten and it had been devastating. She had been a victim in a convenience store shooting. Robert, a former alcoholic, had fallen off the wagon at that point, leaving David to grow up faster than he should have and take care of his little sister. Fortunately, he had Margaret around to help him a lot. Emma always joked until this day that her brother and his wife might as well be her parents, despite only being a couple years older than her.

Knowing of her husband's drinking problem in the past, Ruth had left her children the life insurance money in a trust. A mysterious financial adviser saw to it that the money was used to make sure they were cared for and never lost their house. They had never met the financial adviser, as he had always sent a man named Jefferson to oversee their finances until David turned eighteen.

Robert had spent the rest of their childhood, mostly drunk and in and out of rehab. The final straw had come when he was arrested for drunk driving and David gave him an ultimatum that he either got help or they were done with him. He had been getting ready to graduate high school at that point and ashamed of himself, Robert finally got clean and saved himself from losing his family.

Things had been ugly between David and his father for a very long time, but since Robert hadn't touched a drop in almost fifteen years, they had rebuilt something of a relationship and Emma had too. But when she had issues and problems, it was always David and Margaret that she went to. Her same-age parents as she liked to joke.

Though home life had been a little rough at times, he knew he handled it better than most would have because of Margaret. They were that couple that had already been holding hands in eighth grade and despite all the razzing from their peers, their love had only grown as they did.

David and Margaret married during their college years, as they refused to wait any longer. Robert couldn't have been happier for his son and the young woman that he considered a daughter. He was still deeply ashamed of his past alcoholism and eternally grateful that they had allowed him to be involved in that joyous occasion. He had cried and told them that he knew Ruth was looking down and smiling upon them too. They knew it to be true too, for Ruth had adored Margaret as well.

Robert had come on the trip with them, ecstatic to spend that time with his family and especially his grandchildren. He spoiled them rotten and it was obvious that sometimes he was trying to overcompensate since he wasn't there for David and Emma the way he should have been. But none of them begrudged him that and the kids loved spending time with their grandpa. The trip was ending now though and reality was getting ready to set back in and he couldn't help but smile at his wife and sister, as the former prodded the latter about the marriage proposal that had sent his sister running away from home, even if it was only for a week.

"MM…" Emma complained, as Margaret brushed a hand through her blonde hair.

"Say yes to Killian...he loves you and not everyone finds true love. Your brother and I did and we want that for you too," Margaret said. David looked up from the magazine he was flipping through to give her a smile that had her shooting him a glare.

"She's not wrong…" he chimed in.

"Shut up," Emma complained.

"Killian Rogers loves you...you should be running to the altar. We did," Margaret argued.

"You just want to plan a wedding and we are definitely not you guys. You two really are that all encompassing true love that seriously doesn't really exist anymore, except with you two, because you're weird," Emma argued. Denial and bluster were two of Emma's best moves.

"Okay, forget comparing yourselves to us, cause we are pretty amazing," Margaret said, casting a coy look at the man of her dreams.

"But love is love and you need to stop torturing yourself like you don't deserve happiness or something," Margaret told her.

"You know she's right," David agreed. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes their ability to be in sync and finish each other's sentences was endearing and sometimes, like now, it was annoying.

"How can you two be so infuriatingly optimistic?" she demanded to know in frustration.

"I ended someone's life...how can you think I deserve happiness after that?" Emma murmured. He watched affectionately, as his wife put her arms around her sister-in-law.

"It was an accident," she reminded her.

"It doesn't change the fact that someone is dead because of it," Emma reminded her.

"Maybe...but denying yourself happiness isn't going to bring that person back. You have to forgive yourself so you can heal. And take it from two people that know...love can heal anything," she said, as her emerald eyes met her husband's cerulean ones. He knew she was speaking from a place of hope. Hope that they could get through what might be ahead for them with their son.

And with that thought, he cast a loving glance at their twin children. Olive and Henry. They were ten now, but whether or not Henry was going to reach eleven was in serious question and weighing on them all heavily.

It was that moment though that Margaret would later recall as the moment that would change her life forever.

"Attention passengers. Flight 23 is overbooked. We are offering vouchers to anyone willing to take a later flight to New York," the announcement came.

"Whoa...that sounds like a great idea," Emma said, as she jumped up and headed for the counter. Margaret sighed.

"I'm not sure she should be alone," she said, as she bit her bottom lip.

"You have that teacher-in service early in the morning," he reminded her.

"I know…" she said dejectedly. He rolled his eyes and got up.

"I'll stay with her," he offered and she smiled up at him, before tugging him down by his collar so she could kiss him.

"I love you, my Prince Charming," she cooed in his ear and it always made him get shy. She had been calling him that since they were just kids and always told him how well it fit him.

"If I'm Prince Charming...that makes you my beautiful, fair Snow White," he said, as she watched him follow Emma fondly.

"Mom...can I stay with Dad?" Henry asked anxiously. She glanced at her husband and he smiled.

"Yeah, we can have guy time and your mom can have girl time with Ollie. We'll only be a couple hours behind you," he said.

"Okay...go on," she urged, as she kissed his cheek.

"Guess you and I can watch one of those sappy rom-coms that the boys hate when we get home," she said, as she nudged her daughter. Olive smiled.

"Okay...but if I'm being honest, I kind of like the super hero movies like Dad and Henry," she admitted. Margaret chuckled.

"Well, don't tell them...but me too," she agreed.

That had been it then or so she thought. She had kissed her husband and her son goodbye, expecting to see them in just a couple hours. But the plane carrying her husband, her son, and her sister-in-law disappeared, shattering her world and sending her into despair. She was a shell of her former self and spent months in bed. She felt so bad once she had finally managed to pull what was left of herself together too. Her father-in-law had stayed with them and pretty much cared for Olive and her the whole time. But he didn't seem to hold it against her and though she knew she would never be the same again, she managed to return to a bit of a normal routine six months after their plane went missing. She apologized to her daughter for forgetting her and they resolved to be a united front from then on, facing life without the rest of their family together now.

Her father-in-law returned home and then it was just her and Olive most of the time, though he checked in frequently. She returned to teaching her fifth grade students and what people would consider a normal routine. But she was just going through the motions at that point.

Naturally, after a couple years, the people around her started to drop hints that perhaps it was time for her to move on. It was subtle at first. They would drop hints that they knew someone that would be perfect for her and that they could introduce her. She declined at first. She had already met the perfect person for her and he was gone now.

She knew people started to think she was weird. After all, people moved on all the time after they lost their spouse. They just didn't seem to accept or understand that when she had lost David, it was like he had taken half her heart and soul with him. She knew what it sounded like so she never told anyone that. They could never understand the depth of her love for him.

But to keep people off her back about moving on, she started agreeing to have coffee or dinner with some prospects. She hated it all. If this was dating, then she wanted no part of it. Dating David had never been at all like this was, but then they were always so insync that it had never been awkward like it was with these other men.

It never went much beyond one date. She gathered that most of the men got the drift that she just wasn't into it. But there had been one doctor that she agreed to a second date with. Victor Whale, but that had ended up being a disaster. Their first dinner date had been amiable enough and then she had agreed to go for a drink with him after work the next night. But a little alcohol had resulted in her dissolving into her grief and she had been a mess. To his credit, he hadn't left and let her talk and cry on him. But then she learned why he had stuck around and he was kissing her soon up against a wall.

In her inebriated state, she had even made it all the way back to his place with him. In her grief, the idea of being held by a man again was very appealing. But in a moment of clarity, she had realized what was happening and how much she would later regret a one-night stand. She may have been a widow now, but her heart was still very much married to a husband that was lost to her.

Or so she thought, until November eleventh, two thousand and nineteen.

The plane was back. Flight eight two eight was back, five and half years after disappearing without a trace. Five and a half years after disappearing and shattering her world. Five and a half years after stealing her heart and soul, irrevocably fracturing her for the rest of her life, or so she thought.

Olive could only stare at the television screen in disbelief, as the news story broke and wasn't surprised when the glass in her mother's hand slipped from her grip and shattered on the floor. She gripped her phone and her hands shook, as she attempted to call Robert. Olive took pity on her and took the phone.

"Mom…" she said.

"Can it be?" she uttered. Her daughter smiled.

"I hope so…" Olive said, smiling at her. Her daughter had always insisted that her brother was out there and by extension, her father. The twin thing. But was it really true? Did she dare to hope that a miracle had happened?

"Remember what Daddy always told you…" she said.

"I will always find you," she could hear his voice in her head. He had been telling her that since they were just kids on the playground and he had never once broken that promise.

"I'll call grandpa," Olive said, as she dialed him, but it proved to be unnecessary, as Robert arrived at their door three minutes later. He had jumped in his car the moment the news broke and it was almost like she was in a trance, as he drove them to the airport. She didn't dare believe it yet; not until she saw them with her own eyes. But if it was true...then it was a true miracle and she was one of very few people in existence that was about to get not only a son and a sister back. But the love of her life; her soulmate back. If this was true...then she promised she would never ask God for anything else, because he had just answered every single wish she had ever asked for...

[bluboothalassophile]

The Wife & Ex-Husband

Jason supposed there were a great many ironies in life, because that was part of life, however this, this was true irony as she stood there across from him. There was a sniffer in her hands, that she was cleaning, and her violet eyes were wide with shock as she stared at him. She stole his breath away, even all these years later.

Her long black hair was braided in complicated styles, braids of braids, with a few stray wisps of hair were fluttering around her face. Her eyes were that beautiful dark violet eyes with those thick lashes stared at him with nothing but shock. Plump lips, her upper fuller than the bottom, sharp cheek bones, squared jaw, with an aristocratic nose. The mesh of features and heritage, then with her ivory pale skin. She was beautiful, ethereal even, in all the years without seeing her and she was still the loveliest creature he had ever seen.

It had been about five years since she had left.

Left him nothing but a note, a ring, with the divorce papers and the memories. The best month and a half of his life had been spent with her, after the worst thing that could happen to him did.

Somehow, either by fluke or intention though he was still her medical contact, and visa versa, husband and wife privileges and all and that had given him a link to her. A small, fragile link which he didn’t know how to break or touch, because he couldn’t sign the divorce papers, or file them.

She had given him all the power, and for the first time since she had left all the power in his hands they were staring at each other. With nothing but a bar between them.

“Ah! Raven,” the suave voice called out, and her head ripped away from him as she turned to address the own of the club. Lucifer Morningstar, owner of the club LUX, and the man whom Jason was meeting because of his brother’s bachelor party.

“Uncle!” she smiled in greeting of the man.

“My darling, Maze is out tonight, so might you assist with the bouncer duties and leave the bar to me,” he purred.

“Of course!” she smiled as she set the glass aside, Lucifer hopped over the bar effortlessly, pecked her on the cheek. She walked out from behind the bar, and he could only stare dumbly after her.

“Drink?” the suave voice asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Bourbon,” he said as he twisted around to watch her. She was wearing a skimpy little red number, which showed off her long, curvy legs, strong thighs, highlighting her ass with each step. He could never forget how great her ass and legs looked; he had dreams about them still.

“Here you go,” Lucifer said handing over the sniffer. He took it absently, never taking his eyes off Raven. There was a fight brewing already, and he watched her saunter towards it. “Admiring the view?” the voice asked dryly.

“About to enjoy the show more,” he smiled over his shoulder at Lucifer then.

“Oh?”

“She’s about to break them,” he giddily remembered. He’d had a barfight or two with Raven, she could decimate people, her small size was not to be underestimated. Sure enough, quick as a whip she had two men on their knees and blocking blows from the third as she hit his body hard.

“You seem acquainted with my niece, and how did that come about?” Lucifer asked leaning on the bar as they watched the slaughtering happening. “NOT THE GOOD STUFF!” Lucifer shouted over the music when a bottle was grabbed by one of the men.

“That’s my wife,” Jason announced proudly just as Raven took the bottle and slammed her knee into the man’s groin, dropping him. She smiled as she served the drinks and two burly men appeared to take the groaning heap of idiots off with them.

“HER WHAT!?” Lucifer bellowed as he took a sip of bourbon.

He didn’t get to respond to that as he put his drink aside and walked towards her. She was tiny, still, he noted that she was a good foot shorter than him, and the heels she was wearing didn’t add to her height. Not really. She was slight, like a ballerina, gracefully and classy. She kind of reminded him of Aubrey Hepburn, stunning.

He stopped right before her, and he couldn’t hear the club, or feel the music vibrating through the air, or even hear the people in the crowd. He only stared at her, her beautiful stunned expression.

Last, he had heard of her was the shark attack, two years ago when he had gotten a call from the hospital in Sydney, Australia, saying she was there. He’d gotten there and she was gone, already discharging herself, rejecting pain medication, and only had stitches. He was forever grateful that being her husband had gotten him that information. And he wondered if she knew he was her contact for emergencies; probably not.

“Hey little bird,” he smiled. She was wearing that necklace he had gotten her in New Zealand.

“Hello Jason,” she said softly. She didn’t look away, and he wondered if he could kiss her. Probably a terrible idea, but damnit. He’d missed her, he had honest to God missed her. Which was odd, because he still had her number in his phone. However, in the past five years of his marriage, he didn’t know what to say or do to go about mending the fences with Raven or even reaching out for her. She was always this independent woman, and he knew, from her note, that even if she hadn’t said anything, somehow she had been hurt by him. He didn’t know what he did wrong or where it went wrong; not really, her note was sort of vague, and that’s why he found it hard to think about reaching out.

Five years of thinking though, and he wanted this to change. But he had never known what to do to make that change happen.

Now she was here and he wasn’t wasting the opportunity.

“Can we talk?” he asked her.

“Yes, let me grab a coat, and tell my uncle,” she said. He nodded as he watched her walk by.

~~~*~*~*~~~

She didn’t know what to think, he had walked into her uncle’s club, and until he was standing right before her, she hadn’t even notice him. He looked great; five years had not dimmed his beauty. Jason Todd, ex-husband, was handsome as a fallen angel; a mop of curly black hair with red undertones in it, a lone white streak of hair which was actually natural and not dyed, aquamarine eyes, square jaw, crooked, blunt nose, dash of freckles, highbrow, and squared cheeks. There were a few new nicks and scars around his face she didn’t remember being there, a nick on his lip from when she had split it. His large, broad frame was still all muscle, even in that leather jacket, and button-down shirt, she knew those muscles. The man looked like a beautiful sin, temptation personified, she’d happily sit there like an idiot and stare at him if her uncle hadn’t broken the spell between them.

Good God he looked amazing, and as stunned to see her as she was to see him.

It’d been five years, at least, since she had left him with the divorce papers and that ring, along with a note.

Now she grabbed her coat, shot her uncle and apologetic look and walked after Jason outside of the rowdy atmosphere of LUX.

“I… I didn’t know you were here,” he said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Not for long,” she dismissed. She had come to LA for her step-brother’s wedding, and staying with her uncle had been a welcomed reprieve from wedding madness. “What about you?” she asked.

Jason Todd, aside from being her ex-husband; was the son of a multibillionaire, and ran a multibillion dollar industry; Wayne Enterprises. And though she knew her ex had a preference for working with his hands, and doing manual labor, he was a very smart man, and in line with his younger brother; Timothy Drake-Wayne; to run the company. Raven kind of kept tabs on her ex through the tabloids; she felt it to be the best connection despite having his number in her phone.

“Brother’s bachelor party tonight, but I’m in town on business and holiday of sorts,” he answered.

“My brother’s getting married too,” Raven chuckled.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he and his partner have turned into bridezillas though, and I’m eternally thankful my uncle is letting me stay with him,” Raven admitted.

“Lucifer Morningstar is your uncle?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Awesome,” he grimaced then. “What have you been up too? Other than getting mauled by a shark?” he asked.

“How’d you know about that!?” she sputtered.

“Hospital contacted me,” he omitted reluctantly.

“Damn it!” she hissed. “I thought I had changed all my papers, and contact info.”

“I have you on my insurance, so I covered it.”

“Well that explains a lot,” she sighed. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t… I thought I had changed all my papers, and I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Whoa, we’re… we’re still friends, I… I want to know when you get into trouble or need help. And did that hurt?” he asked.

“Well, I bet it’s still annoying to have contact with your ex-wife, and no, it didn’t, not really. See,” she paused under a streetlight as she revealed the crescent scar on her left thigh, it was ragged and deep, and the shark could’ve taken a good chunk of her leg, but she’d been lucky. It was a bite test, and the shark swam off when she’d stabbed it with the diving knife she always carried. Jason had gotten her that knife as a wedding joke gift. “Your knife saved my life, so I owe it to you. Shark bit me, I stabbed it when it was dragging me off my board, Garth saved me, pulled me out of the water and to shore, we got to the hospital and all I needed was stitches. Seventy-three of them, but I was lucky. Shark missed my artery by a millimeter, and I got three teeth out of it,” she informed him. His fingers hesitantly reached over and she tensed as he touched them.

His touch was still electric, she fought of shuddering at his touch or letting her breath hitch, though she felt her heart ramming in her chest painfully. She was acutely aware that the attraction hadn’t died.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

“PT was a bitch,” she informed him as she dropped her dress a bit, he straightened up.

“Still surfing?” he asked.

“Obviously, Garth and I are planning a trip with his wife Dolphin, after the wedding,” she said. He was smiling softly at her as they walked. “

“I… It’s great to see you,” he said.

“I’m surprised, but it’s great to see you too,” she smiled a bit. Honestly she was always happy to see him, it annoyed her; especially when he appeared on the news or tabloids. “I’m glad we’re not like other divorcees who can’t stand each other.”

“About that, why’d you leave?” he asked.

“Seriously?” she blinked.

“Yes.”

“We were drunk when we got married, on a ship, we can’t even remember the actual ceremony or that weekend, but we had the marriage license with witnesses; though I have no idea who Edward Bloomberg or John Constantine are, but they saw us tie the knot. And I… I saw her, Jason,” she admitted. “I saw Donna Troy and you, and I don’t know, it occurred to me that you and I were merely a vacation mix up, like idiots getting hitch in Atlantic City or Vegas, and you and I hadn’t come to a decision and it was time I returned to reality, so I got the papers before you could regret this.”

“And you didn’t think to talk about this?” he asked.

“No, because I had a family emergency and there wasn’t time. I kept meaning to call you, but,” she gestured in frustration.

“Shit happens,” he nodded.

“Exactly. Besides, once I got stateside again and saw who you were, I knew made the right decision. I don’t want you to think we… at least I didn’t, you know, want you for your money.”

“I never thought that,” he pointed out, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked.

“I’m poor, compared to you, and I know everyone would think I was a gold digger, so breaking the marriage before lawyers came into it to drag us through hell, and ruin our relationship, over money, didn’t seem fair,” she shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like it’d have worked once we came back to reality.”

“Why not?”

“You love your family and what you do, I remember our talks about that, and I couldn’t do that to you,” she shrugged.

“How’d you know about Donna?” he asked. She stopped, blinking rapidly as she stared at him in the city’s light.

“I saw you kissing in the hotel lobby when I was coming to tell you I needed to go home,” she admitted.

“You…?” he paled rapidly then and looked almost sick.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, when I got stateside and read about you and her, I knew I made the right call, and I couldn’t be upset about it. There’s a lot of history with you and her, and I was the vacation mistake. It’s okay, I’m not hurt or mad about it,” she lied.

“But that doesn’t explain why you ran off,” he shook his head.

“My mom died, I had used everything I had to get a flight home to say goodbye,” she answered softly. “While I arranged my flight, I got the divorce papers, filled them out, and I left as quickly as I could.”

“I’m sorry about your mom, I didn’t know,” he said softly.

“It’s alright, she’s in a better place now,” she said firmly. She was in a place her father couldn’t hurt her, and she was no longer in pain; that’s all that mattered to her now. Though five years ago that had been a different story.

“What happened to her?”

“My biological father, Lucifer’s half-brother, killed her. The way my dad tells it, and evidence supports this, is mom was walking home, he snatched her, and tortured her, in my mom’s home. My dad came home to her near death, called 9-1-1, and she was in the ICU, I came home. My uncle’s wife, Mazikeen actually killed my dad when he attempted to snatch me,” Raven informed him.

“I… I’d have come,” he said.

“It’s okay, I didn’t want to drag you into my craziness,” she shrugged.

“Rae, that’s,” he sighed as he shook his head. “Marriage is a partnership, and I’d have come because we are friends. You were a friend when I needed it most and had none.”

“I know, and I can honestly say the same for you. But at the time, it never even crossed my mind. Plus I figured you were getting back with Donna at the time, and by the time I got everything sorted out I didn’t even know how to reach out to you,” she admitted.

“I’m here now,” he pointed out.

“You are,” she agreed.

“We should…”

“Raven! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You have to come save me!” Raven turned in time to see Rose running towards her. Her step-sister caught her waist, skidding around to stand in front of Raven so they were almost nose to nose. “I swear to God if you do not come right now I will kill Joe and Dad!”

“I have to get back to LUX!” she protested.

“Hell no! Luci already agreed you must help!” Rose snapped.

“Rose!” she whined.

“No! Hot guys later! Hi, I’m Rose, Raven’s sister, I’m abducting her now, so give her your number so we can go! Though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, she’s a prudish virgin still!” Rose said.

“ROSE!” Raven squawked. “I am not a prude or a virgin!” she shrieked.

“Doesn’t matter! Come on!” Rose grabbed her arm and started dragging her towards LUX.

“It was nice seeing you Jason!” Raven shouted as she was dragged away from her ex-husband by her sister. She could barely keep up with Rose as she stumbled after her, she didn’t miss Jason’s bemused, and baffled expression as she was dragged off.

“I swear Kyd and Joe are going to kill me! We need you before we kill them,” Rose said. “He was hot, who was he?”

“He was an old friend Rose,” Raven chuckled as they got to Rose’s 1964 Ford Mustang.

“He knows you’re a total prude and he’s never getting any, right? You’re not leading him on like Garfield,” Rose asked.

“I was never leading Gar on, incase you forgot. He only had me to get to you,” Raven pointed out.

“Besides the point,” Rose dismissed.

“He knows me well enough, Rose.” Raven didn’t inform her sister that Jason Todd had taken her virginity, turned her into a lustful, sex crazed woman; who only wanted him, and if Rose hadn’t interrupted, that Raven was likely going to invite him up to her room, in Lucifer’s hotel, and let him screw her brains out until she couldn’t walk right or talk above a whisper; again. The man had introduced her to sex, no other man she had dated came close to being as enticing to her as Jason had; Jason had set impossibly high standards which she feared no one would be able to fulfill for her and her needs.

“Shame,” Rose decided. “You should let him pop your cherry, before you’re a true spinster.”

“Focus on driving, I don’t want to die in a twisted heap of metal!” she grimaced as she clung to her seat while Rose sped down the street.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason watched his wife getting dragged off by her sister and he realized how little he knew about his wife. She had an uncle, Lucifer Morningstar, who was married to a Mazikeen, her mother had been murdered by her biological father, and she had a stepfather (he was guessing on that one), plus a sister and a brother. He knew her best friend’s name was Garth; remembering her mentioning it a lot when he’d been with her. But he didn’t know much about her life.

It unnerved him.

Her reasons for leaving were justified, and rationalized, her reasons for leaving the divorce papers were reasonable. Hell, she had even promised to change her emergency contact; which unnerved him greatly. Raven had done her best to erase herself from his life, because she understandably thought she was a mistake in his life.

He despised that realization.

“Yo! Jay! Where’d you go?” a voice bellowed, he turned in time to see Dick, Wally, Kyle, and Tim staggering towards him.

“I ran into an old friend,” he answered levelly.

“OOOO! Keeping secrets from us! Spill!” Dick squealed.

“It’s not a secret, it’s none of your business. Also, you’re drunk, time to get back to the hotel before Kori kills us all,” he decided. Calling an Uber he waited, while corralling a drunk Dick and Wally, who had decided they wanted to sing carols to by passers, and Kyle tried to kiss him while he propped up Tim; who was sound asleep now.

Once he had them loaded into the Uber, who was taking them to the hotel to be greeted by Barbara Gordon and Kori And’r, he walked back to LUX. Jason barely made it through the door before he was grabbed by the owner and shoved into an elevator, a small woman appeared, her dark eyes bright with protective fury as the pair glared at him.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you mean you’re my niece’s husband!?” Lucifer growled as the elevator doors slid shut.

“My name is Jason Todd,” he started.

“We know that!” the woman snarled.

“I met Raven five years ago in New Zealand, we got drunk, ended up married after a weekend neither of us remember, then shit happened, she came home, and I did, we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen her until today!” he avowed as he tried not to get nervous. The woman, whom he was assuming to be Mazikeen, was glaring at him like she might eviscerate him, while Lucifer looked ready to tear him limb from limb.

“Raven said she had an ex,” Mazikeen growled.

“I haven’t filed the divorce,” he retorted.

“Does she know?” Lucifer demanded.

“I was trying to tell her tonight!” he defended. “Last I heard of her, not from her, of her, was she was in the hospital after a shark attack. By the time I got to Sydney she was gone.”

“So you’re the mysterious benefactor for covering her hospital bill,” Lucifer relaxed a little then.

“I have her covered under my insurance,” he said.

“What do you want with her?” Mazikeen growled.

“Honestly?” he sputtered.

“Excuse us, Mr. Todd, we are protective of our only niece, she’s been through more than most, and her family is just as protective, be glad it was us, and not her father who discovered you, we at least had pertinent questions to ask,” Lucifer quipped as they walked out of the elevator. Jason hesitantly followed after them. Mazikeen continued glaring at him, he saw a knife in her fingers.

“Look, I’m not here to cause problems, and I’m not even here for Raven,” he promised. “I didn’t know she’d be here. When she left, she left a note asking me to give her space, and I have. I didn’t mean to run into her here, though I am happy I did, but I’m here because my brother’s bachelor party was here tonight. No other reason. I didn’t even know she was your niece until tonight.”

“You didn’t discuss that with her when you got married?” Lucifer inquired.

“We were together for a month, and we got married drunk off our asses, and while we talked family, it was vague, like ‘my mom’ or ‘my dad’, we didn’t bring up our lives,” he defended.

“That seems monumentally stupid to me,” Mazikeen growled.

“Probably,” he agreed. Especially after he learned that Raven only learned who he really was after she returned stateside.

“So what are you going to do about this?” Mazikeen demanded. “File the papers finally?” she asked it almost hopeful.

“No, I’m going to try to talk to my wife, and unlike last time, work this out like adults,” he said.

“Seems to me as if she’s handled all of it,” Lucifer stated.

“Well, I didn’t get a say. I came back to an empty hotel room, with a neatly written note, and a stack of divorce papers with the ring resting atop all that. I didn’t get to talk to my wife about a decision which would involve both of us,” he stated. “And for five years, I will admit that I’ve chickened out on contacting her, for many reasons. So now that I’ve talked to her, we will sort this out, like adults,” he decided.

“And if she doesn’t want that?”

“I’m more than happy to step back and let her pursue her happiness elsewhere,” he avowed. “But I want a shot with my wife.”

“You intend to court her?” Lucifer deduced.

“I’d like to try it, properly.”

“You sleep with her and I will castrate you and nail you dick on our doorframe,” Mazikeen warned.

“Look, none of this is your business,” he decided.

“It is though, she’s my niece, I raised her with Mazikeen for four years, I protected her, I raised her, she is more than a niece to me, she is like our daughter,” Lucifer snapped. “And I will investigate this as thoroughly and invasively as I feel fit, seeing as how you are the son of America’s darling playboy. I will not let you harm her!”

Jason just sighed. “Fine, but I get to talk to my wife at my own pace without you butting in. She and I have many things to discuss.”

“Very well, but harm her, and Mazikeen will hide your body so well no one will ever find it.”

Jason just nodded as he walked out of the penthouse, wondering how the hell this happened to him. Also, he needed to text his wife and ask her to coffee so they could discuss the fact they were not exes, and were still legally married. Drunken mistake or not.

[kayteewritessteve]

If Only You Knew - 3/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 4,240 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and slightly offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

So, Scott Lang is the readers dad, however his lastname is whatever you choose. It’s a little confusing, but just go with it! Hahaha. Enjoy!

July 2018 - Present.

You breathed in the cold artificial air, causing your nose to tingling and itch. You were currently crammed into the middle seat of row 19, on an Airbus A321 heading for Morgantown, West Virgin. As Buckhannon didn’t have an airport of it’s own, and taking an 11 hour bus ride back home, sounded like total hell. The first time travelling that way had sucked enough, making the hour and 40 minute flight seem like a way better option.

As the plane took off your nerves started to slowly climb as well, just about as fast, and at the same rate, as the plane. Over the last 6 months your anxiety had slowly began to rise with every passing week, with every passing day, that you got closer and closer to your flight home.

By the time you reached a week away from your travel date, you were a fucking mess. You had tried to reason that if you just didn’t go, no one would be mad at you. Or maybe they wouldn’t be if you just cancelled your RSVP. People did that all the time, right? …Right!? Things could always come up that would prevent people from attending—That was totally a thing that could happened.

So at that point, you had called the one person you always called for advice now, your dad. You figured he’d say it was okay to bail, and that you shouldn’t feel bad about it—Though clearly that hadn’t fucking happened. No, your plan had obviously backfired in your face, as you were currently sitting on a fucking plane, heading home.

That call had gone the polar opposite of how you’d hoped it would. It was basically just an hour if him calling you out for being both irrational and a drama queen. He was totally playful about it, but serious at the same time. He couldn’t really understand why you never wanted to visit Buckhannon. In his defence you have never broken the North Korea pact, so he didn’t actually know the truth behind why you had fled town that day. But still, he had given you the riot act and said if you didn’t put your butt on that plane, then he’d be forced to tell Nat exactly why you’d bailed on her wedding. That threat alone was enough to get your ass to the airport, and fucking early at that.

Throughout the years you’d always make your dad come visit you. Usually sometime in the summer and again at Christmas, as you refused to step one foot in that stupid town. You’d both fight about it but he would always cave and drive up to see you. He had always kept his word about not bringing up or asking about that night, even though you knew it bothered him. But you were thankful that he honoured the pact. Or rather, you were just thankful in general for the fact that you had a dad like him. He had always been there for you, he had always done everything he could to make you happy. To give you the best life he could. It was just to two of you now, and had been for a long, long time. When she died, you were all each other had left, and you both clung to that with all that you had…

July 2009 - 9 years ago.

You’d been driving for just over 4 hours, your butt was asleep and you had to pee like a race horse. But the drive from Cleveland was beautiful, you spent most of it silently staring out the window, ignoring your dads ridiculous need to belt out the words to every indie rock song that came on the radio. He was such a dweeb.

It’d been just over a year and a half since your mom passed, from cancer. And two years since that horrible day when the doctor sat you all down, and gave you the news...

She had been your best friend, and when she got the diagnoses it crushed all three of you. She was stage 4 and only given 6 months, at most, to live.

You all spent those final 5 ½ months together, building memories and cherishing the little time you had left. You thought those 5 ½ months would be the hardest months of your life, but you quickly learned they’d paled in comparison to what was to come.

No matter how hard it was to watch her slowly wither away, uncomfortable and frail. It was a thousand times harder to not have her around at all. To not be able to sit in her room and brush her hair while you told her all about your day. Near the end she found even talking to be exhausting, so your conversations ended up being pretty much one sided. But she told you she loved that. Just hearing your voice made all her troubles drift away, if only for a moment. So you’d talk, and talk, and talk. You’d go on for hours, not allowing yourself to think about what you’d do when she was gone. Though deep down you knew that the reason you did talk so much was because you knew one day, soon, you wouldn’t be able to talk to her anymore. So you had to get it all out now. While you could.

When she did pass away, it was in her bed, in your family home. That was her final wish. She didn’t want to die in some cold and unfamiliar hospital bed, surrounded by strangers. No, instead she wanted to go in her home, in her bed, the same one that held all her memories. The memories involving the three of you from throughout the years. The ones of bringing you home as a newborn and co-sleeping with you for months. The ones of being woken up because you’d peed the bed or had a nightmare. The ones of family cuddles, when one of you had had a bad day. The ones of lazy Sunday’s spend snuggling in bed watching movies. And all the memories in between.

You’d begged God every night for months to bring her back, to return her to you, though your pleads all went unanswered. They all went unfulfilled. Yet, you still tried each night.

Your father and you had always been close, but after she died you both took on a whole new relationship. You were all each other had left now, and you vowed to cherish the time you did. Much more than you ever did before. You held each other through the worst days, and laughed with each other through the best.

And after a while the pain turned to a numb feeling, then slowly drifted away—Or maybe you just got used to it?—You’d felt guilty at first, when it had, because you felt like you were forgetting her. Like you’d left her behind. But your dad told you that you were allowed to feel better, allowed to continue on and that it didn’t mean you didn’t love her just as much, or miss her any less. It just meant you knew she was up there, always watching, even if you didn’t always think about it. And that she would want you to continue on with your life, and make her proud while you did it.

After a year of living in the house she died in, you both couldn’t really handle it anymore. It was supposed to be nice to look around and remember little moments in time. Or memories of her. But after a while it just made things harder. You and your dad started to argue more, and your grades started to slip in school. You were spiralling, and fast. It was then that your dad had an idea, he’d received the life insurance from your mom's death and had tucked it away for safekeeping. Or a rainy day.

He sat you down one night and told you of his plans. There was a small mechanics shop up for sale in a little town called Buckhannon, in West Virginia. Your dad was a mechanic by trade, and his dream was to one day own his own shop. He told you how he wanted to put an offer in on it, then you both would purchase a house, move down there and start from scratch. Building new memories, and giving you both a chance to just breathe. To heal.

You were reluctant at first, not exactly ready to leave your childhood home behind, but he then told you he wouldn’t need to sell the house. You’d keep it and just purchase a new one in Buckhannon. That sealed the deal for you. You agreed instantly, and your dad called his realtor that night, he put in an offer on the shop. A few days of endless online home searching later, and he put an offer in on a beautiful 2 story, 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom detached home.

You received word back within week, that both offers had been accepted, and you’d take possession of both properties in 5 months time. One right after the other, with about a week in between possession dates...

So 6 short months later, here you were, driving just over 4 hours away to the small town of Buckhannon, at the end of June. You both had figured it would be best to let you finish out your grade 10 school year, then move down at the beginning of summer break. That way you had 2 months to settle in, get used to the town, and for your dad to be able to focus on the shop for the first little bit, plus he’d have your help if he needed it.

You pulled up in front of the white two story house, and just stared at it for a few moments. This was it, your new home. The one where you’d live out the rest of your teenage years in.

“You ready, Kiddo?” You heard your dad ask from behind you.

You nodded, “I think so.”

Then you both climbed out of the car, ready to unload, unpack and start fresh.

July 2018 - Present.

You heard the ‘fasten your seatbelts’ ding echo through the large plane cabin, followed by the prepare to land message, signalling that you were nearing your destination. You hadn’t even moved from your seat the whole flight, so your seatbelt was currently still done up. Making you one step ahead, already.

20 minutes later the plane touched down and you took a deep breath as you exited it and made your way towards the arrivals gate. You rounded the final corner and your eyes scanned all the waiting people, till they landed on a familiar figure, standing off to the side. Dad. You both noticed each other at about the same time and you ran towards him. You hadn’t seen him since Christmas, and 6 months without him was just far too long. In your mind.

“Hey Kiddo,” he said as he released you from the hug, “How was your flight?”

“It was okay. Short,” you shrugged, “How are you?”

“Happy to have my little girl home,” He smiled then you both headed to grab your checked bags.

“Not so little anymore,” you corrected and you both laughed.

“You’ll always be little to me,” he smiled, and the sight made you a little happier to be home. The nerves began to dissipate with every passing second that you spent in the company of your best friend, your hero, your dad.

The bags arrived shortly after you reach the carousel, and then you both headed back out to the truck, throwing your bags in the back and began the hour long drive back to Buckhannon. You chatted for the first little while, but then one of your dad's favourite songs came on the radio. Though, it seemed like every song was his ‘favourite song ever’. You laughed at his excitement, and stared out the window as he belted out every word. He was always such a dweeb—No seriously, he was, and it was fucking embarrassing to say the least…

July 2009 - 9 years ago.

You had been in the new house for about a week now, your room was your first priority, so you had unpacked it entirely within the first 2 days. Then you moved to the other rooms in the house and started to unpack them, alongside your dad, one by one.

You were making your way through the living room, which was located at the front of the house, while your dad was working his way through the kitchen, at the back of the house. You were in the zone and had managed to get through all the boxes in no time flat, but then you heard a knock at the door.

You pulled the one earbud from your ear, having left the other one out, just in case your dad called to you for help. And it was lucky for whoever was at the door that you had.

“I’ll get it!” You yelled, though you figured there wasn’t really a point. Your dad probably had no clue there was even a knock on the door, as he had his phone playing loud music in the kitchen while he unpacked.

You rolled your eyes, then made your way to the front door, looking through the peephole and seeing 2 woman standing on the front porch. Or rather, a woman and a girl; probably about your age.

You opened the door, “Hello?”

The older woman, who had clearly been checking out the house, quickly whipped her head around to face you. “Oh, hello dear,” she abruptly said and her daughter sighed then rolled her eyes. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “I’m Polina Maximoff and this is my daughter, Wanda,” she gestured to the girl, “We are with the Buckhannon Welcome Wagon—“

The girl—Wanda, as Mrs. Maximoff had said, cut her mom off, “I’m not.” She waved awkwardly then frowned slightly, “…With the welcome wagon, I mean.”

“Oh Wanda, shush,” her mom glared at her for a second then turned back to you. “Uh, is there a parent home?” She asked hesitantly as she looked passed you into the house.

You stared at her for a second before speaking, “Ah, yeah, hang on.”

She nodded then you turned around, shutting the door slightly so she couldn’t peer into the house before walking to the kitchen, picking up your dads phone off the island counter and pausing the current song that was blasting from the speaker.

“Hey!” He spun around to face you. “What gives, party pooper?”

You blankly stared at him for a second, furrowing your brows, “Really? Party pooper?” You asked incredulously without thinking, then quickly shook your head. “You know what? Not important,” You waved your hand dismissively. “But fyi, if the people at the door had been kidnappers, they’d have taken me and you wouldn’t even have known I was gone.” You crossed your arms and levelled a disapproving glare at him.

“There’s people at the door?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes again, “Uh, yeah. My point exactly.”

“Well, come on then, it’s rude to keep them waiting.” He walked around the island and slung an arm over your shoulders, then you both walked to the front door.

He flung it open to reveal the 2 ladies again, startling Mrs. Maximoff in the process, “Hello ladies, I hear you both aren’t kidnappers. That’s good,” he nodded, “kidnapping is bad.” He dramatically frowned down at you, and you just stood there, gaping at him like a deer in the headlights. This fucking man, I tell ya.

“Ah,” Mrs. Maximoff dragged out the word awkwardly, then clearly decided just to ignore your dads stupid fucking comment, and thrusted her hand out for him to shake. Repeating what she had told you earlier, “I’m Polina Maximoff, and this is my daughter, Wanda.”

He shook her hand, “Nice to meet you both. I’m Scott Y/L/N, though most people just call me Dad,” he smirked down at you this time.

“Ignore him,” you glared up at him then turned to sweetly smile at the Maximoff’s, “He is socially inept.”

Mrs. Maximoff looked taken aback for a second then quickly corrected it and smiled politely at your dad.

It was his turn to gap at you now, then he looked at Mrs. Maximoff. Spluttering for a seconds before finally saying, “I am not socially inept,” he shook his head, then quickly added, “not that there's anything wrong with being socially inept, I just personally am not.”

But judging by the look on her face, she didn’t believe a word he was saying—Though, he had started the first ever interaction with her, congratulating them on not being kidnappers, so this one was entirely on him. “I didn’t even know she knew what that was,” he glared down at you in warning, so you just winked back at him.

“Of course I know what it is, silly,” you playfully swatted his arm, then smiled and turned back to Mrs. Maximoff, “So, you were saying you’re with the Welcome Wagon, was it?”

“I am not socially inept,” you’re dad corrected again, but you just looked up at him and shushed him.

“Daddy, why don’t you go back to unpacking the kitchen, I’ll handle this, okay?” You said sweetly then spun him around and pushed him towards the kitchen.

Wanda leaned in and whispered, “What’s it like living with him?” She jutted her chin towards him as she spoke. Though the gleam in her eyes told you that she knew he wasn’t actually socially inept, and was asking more how it was to live with an awkward and sometimes embarrassing father.

Mrs. Maximoff’s mouth damn near hit the floor, “Wanda Maximoff!” She hissed.

“It’s okay Mrs. Maximoff, it’s not so bad, there are good days and there are bad days,” you replied and shrugged, once again biting the inside of your cheek to stop from bursting out laughing.

“I heard that! And I am not socially inept!” Your dad yelled over his shoulder as he continued to the kitchen.

“He’s just in denial,” you whispered. “So, you have a wagon for us?”

Mrs. Maximoff told you all about the town, and it—wasn’t a wagon, but she did give you a small basket filled with different local flyers, coupons and passes to things around town. There were a mix of free samples, random odds and ends, and a big box of cookies. You took it all and put them on the entryway table. Mrs. Maximoff told you she baked the cookies and that they were her personal ‘Welcome to town’ gift.

But then her phone rang and she excused herself for a moment. Leaving just you and Wanda. You both chatted and she invited you to come hang out with her and her friends. You ended up spending the whole summer with them. Wanda, Nat, Brunnhilde, Clint, Sam and Bucky.

After a few weeks you started to notice that every one of their stories involved some guy named Steve, you asked who he was and why you hadn’t met him yet. They then told you that Steve’s dad basically owned the town of Buckhannon, they were super wealthy, his dad owning a massive corporation or something along those lines. And that every year they spend the whole summer travelling as a family. You responded with ‘must be nice to be rich.’ And they all laughed and agreed. Though Nat and Clint also came from wealthy backgrounds, the former having a trust fund and looking to receive the whole fortune on her 21st birthday. But it wouldn’t be until the very first day of 11th grade that you’d finally come face to face with the infamous Steven Grant Rogers Stark…

July 2018 - Present.

The truck pulled up in front of your dads house. Which looked exactly as you remembered, yet also totally different at the same time. Possibly because you were seeing it through adult eyes now. What once was your sanctuary from the bad times, was now your reminder of completely different ones. You just stared up at it for a few seconds, taking it all in and vowing to not allow the house to be tarnished by one bad memory, by one bad night, when it held so many other wonderful memories. Ones of sleepovers, movie nights, fires in the backyard and lounging on the porch in the summer.

“Nice to be home?” He asked from behind you.

You nodded, “yeah, you know what, it actually is.” You smiled then opened the door and climbed out of the truck, your dad did the same then you both grabbed your bags from the back.

“And to think you doubted if you should come home or not,” he jokingly scoffed, as you walked up the pathway to the stairs.

“The week’s still young, old man,” you sassed back as you reached the stairs ahead of him.

“Hey!” He yelled, “who you calling an old man?” He added then quickly went to run up the stairs ahead of you. “An old man couldn’t do this!” He pointed out as he passed you, and it would have sounded half way believable if he hadn’t also punctuated that statement by tripping on the last step and nearly falling flat on his face.

You burst out laughing, “Careful, old man, you might break a hip!” Then you sprinted passed him into the house, and up the inside stairs, not giving him a chance to retaliate. But you didn’t miss him yelling, “You’ll pay for that comment, Kiddo!” at you as you fled to your room, laughing the whole way there.

You entered your teenage bedroom, and it looked pretty much exactly how you’d left it that day, minus all the personal items your dad had packed up and brought you before college. You took it all in, all the posters, the colourful painted furniture and decor. Your eyes drifted to a bulletin board on the wall above your desk, it was covered in photos and random trinkets from your high school days. You untacked one of the photos, pulling it off and bringing it closer to look at it. It was a picture of Steve and you at the lake, the day before he left on his annual summer long family vacation.

It was that summer that you finally realized just how much you loved him. Or rather, you always knew you did, but that summer you really came to terms with just how much you actually did love him. Going those two months without him were rough, you holed up in your room for days, crying and watching sappy romance movies while eating way to much junk food. You’d told your friends you were ‘just sick’, but they stopped believing that excuse after about a week and they all showed up to force you out of your bed. They asked you why you were hiding out but you told them it was that time of the month, and you were just too embarrassed to tell them about it. And even though you knew the girls didn’t believe you, they had all left it alone. Like you knew they would. You vowed that day to never tell a soul about your crush, not even your best friends. And especially not Steve. You’d instead bury the feelings down deep, and pretend like they didn’t existed. Like you weren’t head over heels in love for your best friend. Like him being gone for 2 months hadn’t devastated you, entirely.

You tacked to photo back to the board then started to unpacked your one bag, giving a bit of time before you went down to retrieve the other. Knowing full well your dad would have some form of revenge waiting for you when you did.

As if by a miracle, your phone pinged on the bed. You picked it up to a text from Wanda, ‘Hey stranger, you home now? Is it time for the Welcome Wagon to arrive?’

You laughed and quickly typed back, ‘Probably not the best time, the old man is out for revenge right now. Where are you? I’ll come to you!’

It pinged again, ‘Uh oh, what did you do now? and we are at Nat’s house, come on by!’

You stared at your phone for a few seconds then typed, ‘Made fun of his age again. He’ll live. But who’s all there?’

*ping* ‘Steve isn’t here, since we both know that was your actual question.’

You awkwardly laughed and shook your head. Girl knew you too fucking well, it was almost like she could read your mind. It was a problem. ‘It was not! And okay, on my way!’

*ping* ‘You always sucked at lying, even over text.”

You rolled your eyes then quickly and quietly made your way downstairs, you still remembered exactly where to step so the stairs wouldn’t creak. Countless nights of sneaking out to meet your friends had made you a damn ninja. At least where getting out of this house quietly was concerned.

Once you made it to the front door, you grabbed the truck keys off the wall hook in the hall, and quietly opened the door then yelled, “Going to Nat’s! Bye!” As you slammed the door shut and ran to the truck, hopping in, starting the engine and backing out if the driveway before your dad could stop you. Like you’d willingly let him get revenge on you that easily. You laughed to yourself.

Then your phone pinged a few minutes later, and even though you knew it was bad to touch your phone while driving, you picked it up anyways and quickly read the message. It was from your dad, ‘This isn’t over youngin!!’

You burst out laughing, which abruptly caught in your throat the second you saw the flashing red and blue lights in the rear view mirror. Fuck! You’re dad was never going to let you touch the damn truck again if you got a ticket for texting and driving. Or rather, a ‘distracted driving ticket’ as they labelled it.

You put the phone down then immediately pulled over to the side of the road, praying it was maybe someone you knew, so that you could possibly talk your way out of the ticket.

It was your first day back in 7 years, after all! Who gives someone a ticket on a day as pivotal and significant as this?! No one, that’s who!

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