#maybe later after the wedding he finds a package on his bed one day— it's a dress similar to the one he held but definitely his size now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mizunetzu · 3 years

Note

ok fine i'll bite

what if u made a tamaki amajiki fic but instead he's actually the UA traitor 😳 and he's actually a yandere and his target's a gender neutral 3rd year 😳 omg that would be pog

haha jk.. unless?

don't bully me pls i haven't done this b4

Miss miss miss sylviaaa 😀😀😀 I lov u miss sylviaaa

——————

Tamaki x reader - My Darling’s Pen

⚠️warnings - yandere Tamaki, stalking

Pronouns - genderneutral, they/them

——————

All it took was a pen.

A pen that dropped from their desk, one that rolled over and knocked against the side of Tamaki’s shoe. He hadn’t noticed them at all for the whole school year, but the moment they tapped him on the arm and said,

“Sorry-can you get that pen for me? It’s near your foot.”

With one of the warmest smiles he’d ever seen, he was smitten. Their voice was tantalizing, sweet and not too loud, and it graced Tamaki’s ears like wedding bells. He didn’t know he was staring until the beauty that was this person waved their hand infront of his face awkwardly.

“...Are you ok?” Their voice was full of worry. Worry for him. Tamaki’s heart swelled with the notion that he was being worried over by someone as...lovely as them.

He nodded shyly, and bent down to swoop up the pen in his hand. Their hand brushed against his when they reached over and grabbed it, and he could still feel his hand tingling even hours after. The person smiled another one of those heart clenching smiles, and looked back down at their paper.

Tamaki couldn’t focus the rest of the period.

——

When the bell dismissing them for lunch rang, and students started getting up from their seats, he once again noticed that person walking past him, talking to their friends. He wished he was part of their friend group. He didn’t know why, but that person just seemed so...cool.

The same pen from earlier bobbed from a hole in their bag’s pocket, and Tamaki cursed himself for staring once more. The pen eventually slipped completely through the small rip in their bag. The pen tumbled onto the ground, and stopped in front of Tamaki.

He picked it up. Should he return it? He looked at the door. No one was there. He was the only person standing in the classroom. Tamaki considered giving it back to them when class ended, but he found himself slowly slipping the pen into his own pocket.

‘It’s a pen’, he thought. ‘Surely they won’t miss it. It’s...it’s a pen.’

He didn’t know why he wanted to keep it so much. It was just that. A pen. He had no use for it-he had tons of other pens that no one asked to borrow because he was too shy to talk to them. It was useless.

But he found himself sitting on his bed hours later, staring blankly at the ceiling while he admired the pen or clicked it once or twice.

It was just a pen...

——

Everyday, when Tamaki would open his pencil pouch, he’d have all these other pens and pencils to choose from, ones that probably wrote way better than that person’s pen, but every single time, his eyes would land on that pen he “found on the ground” and he’d use it.

Fidgeting with the pen after class, he couldn’t help but follow this mysterious pen dropper every single day out to lunch. He wasn’t a stalker, no! He was just...figuring out the right time to return the pen they dropped. The pen they dropped a week ago...

Tamaki saw the familiar mop of (H/c)-colored hair, running past him and to their group of friends that Tamaki just so happened to memorize. He stared at them without shame, until he heard one of them speak.

“Hey, (Y/n). It-it uh, looks like Tamaki-kun wants to talk to you there.” The friend pointed at him, but he only tensed up when their eyes drifted from their friends to him and him alone.

“Oh. Uh, that guy from the big three?”

The person, (Y/n), whispered to their friends. Tamaki’s heart swelled. They knew who he was. He felt a sense of pride. He was important enough to take up space in this beautiful person’s memory. He wanted to be more important, and maybe take up some more space like he never used to want before. He wanted attention when he never used to want attention before.

“...hello?” (Y/n) was in front of him now. They looked straight into Tamaki’s eyes, and Tamaki wanted to look away immediately. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure if he was just nervous like he normally is, or if it was something else. But still...

They smelled so good.

(Y/n) waved their hands in front of Tamaki’s eyes. He blinked, suddenly very aware of how he was lost in his own thoughts. He was about to apologize, and maybe turn to face the wall, until he heard (Y/n’s) lovely, lovely voice.

“You’re really shy, huh? Don’t worry, I can back up if you want me to.”

Their voice was gentle. So gentle, like something fuzzy tickling Tamaki’s nose. It made him want to crawl inside a locker and just breathe. It was heavenly. He wanted nothing more but to just...listen to this person’s kind voice.

“U-u-uh...it’s fi-ine...” Tamaki hated the way his voice was barely audible. It stood nothing against the kind, smooth, god-like voice (Y/n) graced him with. Still, (Y/n) smiled so, so warmly.

“Alright then. Did you need something?”

Oh. That’s right. The pen. He was going to return it. Tamaki began to reach into his pocket, when his hand stopped. He thought about it for a second, then let his hand rest flaccidly inside his pocket, shoving his other one in bashfully aswell.

“I-no...I was just-just staring off into space and I-I guess I was staring in y-y-your direction...”

It was a lie. A terrible one at that. So he didn’t understand why (Y/n) believed him, bid him goodbye with their angelic voice, and let him keep their wonderful pen. He didn’t understand why he didn’t return it either. He needed to...return it. But there was one thing he did know.

That beautiful angel that sat near him in class was named (Y/n).

——

Once you knew someone’s name, it was relatively easy to find out more about them.

For example, Tamaki knew their full name was (L/n) (Y/n), their favorite food was the cafeteria onigiri that lunch rush would package on the go, but specifically if it was left alone to sit for a few minutes to marinate, and he even knew the neighborhood where (Y/n) lived, and how long it took (Y/n) to walk from there to school. 14 minutes and 38 seconds not counting the times they go buy a snack from the convenience store. Though, he wished he knew their exact address.

That wasn’t it, however. Tamaki found himself ‘discovering’ more and more of (Y/n’s) items, whether it be a small keychain hanging off their backpack he purposely loosened with his scissors so it would fall off, or the strawberry scented chapstick that was sitting so enticingly on their desk when they left to the bathroom one day, Tamaki had them all. Nothing too important, though. Nothing that he knew (Y/n) would miss. Just pens and their old loose paper assignments that they threw away, mostly.

And it didn’t help that Tamaki stopped sitting with Mirio and Neijre at lunch, just to purposely sit at a lunch table near (Y/n’s) so he could hear their pretty voice once again. Not too close, but close enough to listen. When Mirio asked, Tamaki told him he just wasn’t feeling very well lately.

But that didn’t make him a stalker, right? He wasn’t overstepping any boundaries...he was just...finding the right opportunity to give back the pen he borrowed. Yeah. That’s it. The pen he borrowed that he actually didn’t borrow. He figured they’d want it back, even though he had countless other little trinkets in his possession, that once belonged to them.

No, no he wasn’t a stalker. He was trying to be a good person and return their pen.

——

Ok, maybe it was a bit of an obsession.

Most of his camera roll was filled with (Y/n). Pictures from their social media that Tamaki cropped so he could only see them (and not their stupid friends), pictures he nervously snuck during class or lunch, and even the occasional picture he took ‘passing by’ when (Y/n) was walking home.

He cherished all of them, even printing some out and building a small shrine with the items he stole. He didn’t want his parents to see, so he made sure it was in a box he could hide in his closet.

Once again, (Y/n) walked home from school like always. They took their normal route, as always. But this time, they walked alone. Tamaki was planning to sneak some more pictures—nothing too indecent because even he has some boundaries—but this time (Y/n) was alone.

‘Ah...!’ Tamaki shuffled through his bag, pulling out the small pencil pouch he bought purely filled with stuff ‘borrowed’ from (Y/n). He fished out the pen he’d been planning to return for a month now, and looked back at (Y/n). ‘Nows the perfect time...’

...But he wanted to keep the pen. It was his favorite pen. Even though he had countless other pens ‘borrowed’ from (Y/n), he couldn’t help but feel attached to this one. So he fished out another random pen from the pouch of (Y/n’s) things, before stopping again.

He didn’t wanna give up these either.

Instead, he zipped up the ‘(Y/n)’ pouch, grabbed his normal pencil pouch, and brought out one of his normal pens. It looked similar to one of the countless pens he took from (Y/n), so he supposed it would suffice. Wasn’t he such a nice person? Giving them a pen?

His poor heart started pumping when he jogged up to (Y/n). Some part of him wanted to just...keeping watching (Y/n) from a distance, but he knew he wanted more for a while now. He wanted to...talk to (Y/n). He wanted (Y/n) to talk to him. He wanted to crawl inside (Y/n’s) body and just be (Y/n).

“E-e-excuse me...?” Tamaki’s voice went dry as he touched (Y/n’s) shoulder. He wasn’t worthy of touching (Y/n’s) shoulder, yet like the horrible person he is, he did. He dirtied the perfect shoulder (Y/n) had. How disgusting of him.

“Yes?”

Tamaki fumbled and held up his pen. “You uh-you dropped this in class earlier...”

“...you sure? I mean,” (Y/n) took the pen, and their warm hand brushed against Tamaki’s fingers so gracefully. It sent shivers down his spine, and he wanted nothing more than to just collapse into (Y/n) and breathe in. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t using a pen today. But this looks like the brand I buy.”

“U-uh!” Tamaki broke into a cold sweat. “I saw it...drop...out of your bag.”

“Oh.” (Y/n) look at their bag, and at the small hole that was in its side pocket. “There’s a hole..that makes sense. Uh, thanks for returning my pen.”

(Y/n) smiled. Tamaki felt like he was going to die. He didn’t deserve someone so kind and beautiful and caring. Granted, no one did. Not even him.

“Are walking in this direction?” (Y/n) gestured ahead. Tamaki nodded, even though he knew very well his house was blocks away in the opposite direction. He soon found himself walking next to (Y/n) in silence.

He had (Y/n’s) attention. (Y/n) was walking next to him. It’s almost like they were dating already. That’s what lovers do, right? Walk next to eachother?

He wanted nothing more but to just breathe in the scent of (Y/n’s) hair. He wanted to worship (Y/n’s) fingers, he craved the bones in their body, he wanted to praise every single nerve and atom that belonged to (Y/n). He wanted (Y/n) so bad.

He was brought out of his trance when (Y/n) stopped at a crossroads. “My house is this way,” they said.

Tamaki shot back with a “Me too-!” Almost robotically. He wanted to see (Y/n’s) house...and maybe memorize their address. Not in a creepy way, though.

“Well...this is my house, I didn’t know you lived so near to me.”

“Y-yeah.” Tamaki watched as (Y/n) bid him farewell, with an angelic ‘thank you’, and walked off towards their house. Tamaki silently memorized his surroundings, every small flower and potted plant that belonged to the angel that was (Y/n), and finally wrote down (Y/n’s) address with their pen on his hand.

He didn’t know what he would do with this info, if he was honest. But just having it made him feel high.

——

Tamaki was going to do it.

Today was the day he would return the pen.

He thought about it for a while. He loved the pen, he never parted with it, but he needed an excuse to find a way to get closer to (Y/n). He’d say they dropped it out of their bag again and maybe offer to go out for ramen or something. He’d just leave out the part that (Y/n) dropped the pen more than 2 months ago.

Tamaki walked around the U.A. campus with the pen in his hand. He ran his fingers through the barrel of the pen. (Y/n) was no where to be found. They weren’t sitting with their friends like they normally did during lunch, so where could they be?

Tamaki was about to round a corner, when he heard voices talking from the other side. He stopped, about to turn on his heel and leave, when he heard angelic bells ringing. (Y/n’s) lovely voice talking to...whoever they were talking to.

“I-I like you, Hatsumada-kun!”

Tamaki went rigid against the wall. He loved hearing (Y/n’s) lovely voice 24/7, even recoding candid audios of (Y/n) answering questions in class or talking to their friends to listen to while he went to bed, so this was the first time he wished (Y/n) hadn’t said anything.

He was waiting for this Hatsumada guy to speak. Maybe he’d try to catch a glimpse of his face so he could—what was he saying? Intrusive thoughts began to flood his mind. He wanted to punch Hatsumada. He wanted to beat him up. He wanted to murder him.

“...I’m sorry, (L/n)-san. I don’t really see you that way.”

For some reason, Tamaki was even more angry than he would’ve been if Hatsumada had accepted their confession. He pursed his lips, and walked away as quickly as he could. His poor (Y/n), their feelings must be so hurt. How could he?

Tamaki long forgot the pen sitting in his hand, waiting to be returned to its rightful owner.

——

After the third tree came toppling down, Tamaki was beginning to think he’d get charged for property damage.

I mean, it was school property, and it was in the training grounds. Angrily whipping his tentacles around or bucking at trees with horse feet could qualify as ‘training’.

Tamaki was left huffing, glaring down angrily at the fallen, mangled tree. He’d never felt so angry before. He was usually a submissive, “avoid conflict-y”person, and he didn’t get angry much, but he felt so angry he could die.

His poor (Y/n). Having to get rejected by scum like that. But even if that pig had said ‘Yes’, he’d be equally as angry. His beloved (Y/n) didn’t deserve someone as undeserving as him. No one did. No one deserved (Y/n), not even himself.

Momentarily turning his tentacles back into his regular limbs, Tamaki sighed and curled up next to the fallen tree trunk. His hands were bloodied up, his knuckles peeling from when he started punching and slashing at tree before he decided to use his quirk. It was probably the first time he’d been so angry.

Tamaki leaned back against the trunk, laying down on the uncomfortable wood. What was happening to him? He felt so mad he could die. He couldn’t believe he was imagining trees as Hatsumada, as he brutally destroyed them one by one. That wasn’t the actions of a hero...

Rustling from two tall bushes caused Tamaki to shoot up, his tentacles shooting out from his back, and probably ripping his shirt up. He stood alert, his wide eyes searching sporadically through his dark bangs. Finally, a man, whom Tamaki was pretty sure wasn’t a teacher, appeared from the bushes, holding a cane and his free arm up.

“I come in peace, Tamaki Amajiki-san.”

The man had a stylish top hat on, and his face was masked with a flat, white mask with black trim. He had a long coat on, and dark gloves that made him look like a magician.

“W-who are you? This is private property-!”

The man kept walking towards Tamaki. “Are you angry, Tamaki-kun?”

“I-of course I’m mad! You’re trespassing, so I suggest you leave before I call-“

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about that boy. The one talking to that person you fancied.”

Tamaki went silent. He let his tentacles falter from their alert position, before suspiciously bringing them back up. “H-h-how do you know that! You stalker!”

“Frankly you’re one to call me a stalker.”

Tamaki broke into a cold sweat. He raised his fists defensively. “I-I’m not a-I’m not-“

“But you are, aren’t you? It’s fun to watch the people you love, isn’t it?” A girl grabbed Tamaki from behind by the shoulders, making him flinch as she smiled widely. “I love it too-I love it so much I want to see the person I love all covered in blood...”

The girl unhanded Tamaki, and stepping in front of him and standing next to the taller, poised man. “But they don’t understand our kind of love, do they? The heroes. They think the way I love people is wrong, and they would think the same for you...”

Tamaki pursed his lips. This was manipulation. They were trying to get into his head somehow, trying to appeal to him, trying to convince him that he was just like the scum they were...

...and it was working.

Tamaki said nothing, though his tightly clenched fists and hinged jaw told a different story. He loved (Y/n). He loved (Y/n) so much it made him crazy. He loved (Y/n) so much it made him want to murder Hatsumada. Simple as that. He was trying to convince himself he didn’t, but the sight of him all bloodied up and misshapen by Tamaki’s bare hands made him shiver.

“Y’know, people will call you a stalker for sure if they saw this.” The man was holding up Tamaki’s school bag, more importantly the scrapbook pasted with printed out photos and pressed objects of (Y/n) littered inside. The man flipped through the pages with care. “I, however, think it’s lovely that you admire someone so much you’d make a whole book dedicated to them. How romantic.”

He found himself agreeing. It was, wasn’t it? He cared so, so much, so how could it be weird or creepy or stalkerish? Tamaki shook his head, shaking the intrusive thoughts from his mind. “N-no! Put that back! Why are you here?!”

“We want to make a deal with you.”

“Me?” Tamaki snarled, backed up against a tree. He hardened his exterior in hope of masking his utter curiosity, especially after their understanding of his feelings for (Y/n). They understood.

“You see, learning information about U.A. is difficult when it’s such a prestigious school. But it would definitely be a lot easier if we had an...inside man feeding it to us.”

Tamaki’s eyes widened. “You want me to betray my school?”

“In Laymans terms, yes.”

“Now why would I ever-!”

“Because they don’t understand us. Once they find out you sneak pictures of this person from outside their window while they sleep, they label you a stalker for sure.” The girl held up Tamaki’s scrapbook, displaying hazy printed photos of (Y/n) through their bedroom window. “But us? We don’t judge. We understand. You just want to admire them, and love them the way you do and not be judged. I want that too.”

The man chimed in. “Your school is a judgmental, horrible place. So help us fix it, and join the LoV.”

Tamaki looked down at his feet. He continued. “You don’t need to join us physically. You may still attend U.A., and we will contact you occasionally, when we need information. And surely we will spare you from harm if we decide to attack, as well your little crush.”

Tamaki couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. Well, he also couldn’t believe how angry he got seeing someone being confessed to, or how obsessive his feelings for (Y/n) became. It was all new to him.

...So what was one thing more?

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it on one condition.”

His decision was based purely on feelings. Nothing of what he was saying was logical. It wasn’t morally correct. Still...

The man and the girl both smiled, looked at each other, and nodded. They turned back to Tamaki, giving him a look to go on.

“If I...when I decide to do something...a-and it makes a mess, or I need covering up in any way, promise you’ll clean up for me. Evidence and all.”

Was he really going to do this?

“Whatever you need, Tamaki-kun.”

He was.

The man tipped his hat, and the girl placed the book back in Tamaki’s hands. “We’ll be in touch. If you do anything heinous, we’ll be there to help aswell. Anything for our new traitor.”

Tamaki felt sick to his stomach.

“...y-you guys are crazy.”

“And you’re a lovesick stalker.”

“...I know.”

Tamaki watched as the two disappeared behind the brush. His knees buckled, as he sat back against the disfigured tree truck, and reached into his bag. He cradled his scrapbook as he fished out (Y/n’s) pen that he loved so much, and stroked it scantily. He huddled in on himself, pressing the pen to his cheek.

Soon.

Soon he’d return (Y/n’s) pen. Right after he murdered Hatsumada.

——————

If y’all didn’t know the man and the girl was mr compress and toga

-Mr. Mizunetzu

#tamaki x y/n #tamaki headcanons #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x male reader #tamaki amajiki x gn reader #tamaki x gn reader #bnha x reader #bnha fic #bnha x male reader #mha x gn reader #bnha x gn reader #mha x male reader #yandere tamaki #yandere tamaki x reader #yandere tamaki amajiki

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Serendipity

This was originally a prompt on here that I promised a follow up to, but got carried away.

The original prompt is in italics, so you can refresh yourselves on what it was!

Words: 3.6k

Rating: Mature

Read over on ao3, or below the cut.

Let me know what you think!

It should never have happened. Emily hadn’t intended for it to, and she knew Aaron hadn’t either. They hadn’t meant to fuck at JJ’s wedding, hidden in Dave’s guest bathroom as Aaron’s girlfriend danced with his son downstairs.

Things shifted between them that night. The dance they had shared, his hand in hers and his breath against her neck had ignited her skin, set something on fire that she had tried to ignore. Emily had tried to walk away, to put some distance between them. Aaron had followed her, knocking softly on the bathroom door when she had been in there a little too long.

Emily wasn’t entirely sure who kissed who first, but she remembered him pressing her up against the counter. How it felt when he pushed her dress over her hips, her own hands not idle as she undid his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

The aftermath had been awkward, but that hadn’t stopped it from happening again the following day. Him coming to hers for the coffee they had promised each other, ending up on the couch instead, clothes shed and desperate hands palming against each other's skin.

She stiffened when he said he had broken up with Beth, the gentle hope in his voice breaking her heart. Emily still remembered the look on his face when she said she was still going to London, his cheek against her hand.

She had been in London for two months before she called him, lied and said she was in town for a consult. Aaron obviously didn’t believe her, but he came to her hotel room anyway. Emily realises she should have known it would be inevitable, that they would have sex again. She wants him as much as he wants her and she has spent so much of her life denying herself the things she wanted. It isn’t lost on her that this is the first time they have done this in a bed, and she sits up as he gets dressed, the silence in the room deafening. She pulls on one of the robes hung up in the wardrobe, pulling the tie tight around her waist.

“Aaron, we still need to talk.”

He looks at her, his face stern. “Are you staying?”

Emily opens her mouth, unsure how to even begin to answer that question, to say what she needs to say. Aaron takes her hesitance as an answer, shrugging on his jacket as he shakes his head at her.

“I should go.”

“Aaron, please.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.” He says, his voice full of defeat and she hates that she's the one that put it there. That she caused the man who she cares for more than she should to feel anything other than happiness. Aaron turns to leave, his hand on the door of her hotel room and a heavy sigh escapes him. “See you next time you’re in town, Emily.”

Emily closes her eyes and wraps her arms around herself, pulling the robe she had put on tighter, as if it could hold her together in the soft material whilst she tells him what she came here to say. What she couldn’t bring herself to tell him on the phone.

“I’m pregnant.”

Aaron turns to look at her. Her eyes are fixed on the floor, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“Emily.”

She looks up at him, a small smile on her face. “I think it goes without saying it's yours.” She clears her throat awkwardly when he just stares at her, clearly trying to figure out what to say next. “We should sit down.”

She moves over to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. She curls up into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Emily feels relief ease some of the tension in her chest when he joins her, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Are you ok?” He asks, and it makes her smile. Any frustration he had aimed at her had melted away, replaced by confusion and something she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m ok.” She answers. “Although morning sickness is the most poorly named thing on the fucking planet.” He laughs at that, and it’s nervous, making her raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you ok?”

He nods. “I think we have a lot of things to discuss.”

“Yeah.” She replies, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “We do.” ____________

The flight back to London is rough. Her constant nausea makes the hours drag by, her desperation to just be on solid ground almost overwhelming her.

She’s never been more grateful to see her apartment, the place still not quite feeling like home yet. She sinks into her couch and groans when her cell phone immediately rings, rolling her eyes when she sees Clyde’s name on the screen before she answers.

“Do you track me or something? I’ve only just made it back.”

“That's for me to know and you to wonder about, darling.” Clyde says, smugness in his voice that made her smile despite herself. “How did our dear Agent Hotchner take the news that he’s going to be a father again.”

“Quite well given the circumstances.” Emily answers, unwilling to divulge anymore of her conversation with Aaron to her friend, knowing if there was one person on the planet he wouldn’t want her to talk to about this it would be Clyde Easter.

“You’re going to go back aren’t you?”

Emily laughs, frustrated that he could read her so well even over the phone. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.”

“Not now.” She replies. She looks down at her abdomen, still flat with no indication of the life growing underneath her skin showing yet. “I can’t keep the baby from him, or him from the baby. He’s a great dad.”

“You left DC for a reason.”

Emily places her hand on her belly and smiles to herself. “And now I guess I have a reason to go back.” ____________

Aaron visits her a month later. His insistence on coming to London for a long weekend made her laugh. She feels nervous when she picks him up at the airport, but it fades away when she sees him.

It’s strange, having him there in her apartment, like two very distinct worlds were colliding. She liked it though, couldn’t help but smile as he walked around and made himself familiar with where she lived.

“I had a scan this morning.” She says, smiling at him nervously when he turns to look at her, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Would you like to see the picture?”

“Of course.”

She beams at him as she digs the scan photo out of her purse and hands it to him. “Everything looks good, even if I am a ‘geriatric mother.’’ She said, using air quotes as she spoke.

Aaron has the gall to laugh at her, which makes her raise her eyebrows at him. He steps towards her, ultrasound scan still in hand, and he hugs her. She hugs him back, breathes in the scent of his cologne. She pulls back enough to look at him, and before she can think better of it she leans forward and kisses him. It crosses the delicate line they hadn’t crossed since he had left her hotel room a month ago, still reeling from the life changing news he had told him. They’d been in contact every day since, exchanging texts and phone calls around both of their gruelling work schedules. They’d been acting like friends, nothing more, but her hands grasping the back of his head, pulling him closer to her, changed that.

“Wait.” He says against her lips, pulling away so he could look at her. “Is this a good idea?”

Emily heaves in a breath and licks her lips before looking at his. “Maybe not.” She presses another quick kiss to his lips. “But it’s not like you can knock me up again.”

He stares at her for a second before pulling her back into him, kissing her fiercely as she drags him to her bedroom. ____________

They don’t talk about anything important until the day he leaves, neither of them wanting to ruin the little bubble they had created in her apartment. It’s him that tentatively brings up her plans over the breakfast they had ordered in.

“When are you coming back?”

“In three months.” She says as she takes a sip of her tea. “That’s when my replacement can start here, and when the role at the DC Interpol office opens up.”

Aaron frowns at her. “The DC Interpol office?”

Emily nods. “It’s essentially what I’m doing now.” She senses his confusion and clears her throat as she sets her mug back down. “I was never going to be coming back to the bureau, Aaron.”

“It’s your choice, I just thought you would have mentioned it.”

Emily can feel her temper flaring, annoyance rising up in her before she can stop it. “We’re not in a relationship, Aaron. Just because we fucked a few times and accidentally made a baby doesn’t mean I have to run everything past you.”

He stares at her, a hard look on his face. It seems to take him a moment to speak, and the way he carefully chooses his words pisses her off even more. “Would you even be coming back if it wasn’t for the baby, Emily?”

She looks at him, her fury written all over her face. “No. I wouldn’t be.”

He leaves pretty quickly, claiming he needs to get to the airport even though his flight isn’t for another 12 hours.

____________

After that they speak less often. She updates him on the baby and he asks her how she is, how both of them are doing.

When she starts to show she takes a photo of her bump and sends it to him. The next day a package from Amazon arrives full of pregnancy skin care, a gift note from Aaron that tells her Haley had sworn by the bump cream. The tenderness of the gesture makes her cry, the affection she feels for him almost bursting out of her chest.

She calls him when she finds out they are having a boy, her enthusiasm seeping down the phone and filling his voice with wonder.

As she boards the plane to DC 3 months after she last saw him, all of her belongings shipped, she feels something a little bit like hope bloom in her chest. ____________

Aaron comes to visit her at her apartment almost as soon as she gets back, a smile on his face and a bag of takeout in his hand.

“Hi.” She says, almost shyly as she lets him in.

“Hi.” He kisses her cheek before he thinks about it, pulling her into a hug. He steps back and looks down at her abdomen. “Wow.”

Emily laughs, her hand landing on her belly. “Yeah, he’s getting big.” She takes the bag of food from him. “We should eat.”

They eat and make conversation, and it’s as if 3 months of awkward conversation between them hadn’t happened. He asks her about Sergio, and she says Penelope would be keeping him for now, but that she had full visitation rights.

Aaron clears up the plates, and she rolls her eyes at him as he tells her to put her feet up. She feels the awkwardness seep back in when he sits on the couch next to her, the unanswered questions hanging in the air.

“I’ll get you your own key.” Emily says, tearing her eyes from her lap to look at him. “It makes sense for you to just be able to come over, see the baby whenever.”

He nods, an awkward smile on his face. “I’ll get you one to my place too. Jack keeps asking when you’re coming over.”

“That’s sweet. I missed him.”

“He missed you. We both did.” It’s awkward again for a moment, and she can see the second he decides to simply say whatever he had been holding back for months. “What are we, Emily?”

She sighs. “I don’t know, Aaron.” She grabs his hand and squeezes it. “I care about you. So much. But if we hadn’t had sex at JJ’s wedding we wouldn’t even be here right now. How is that the foundation of a relationship?”

“By itself it might not be, but we have a lot more than that.” He cups her cheek. “We’ve known each other for years. I know I’m not the only one who has felt that there could be more between us.”

Emily closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his. “There is so much more at stake now.” She puts their joint hands on her bump. “We can’t mess anything up for him, or Jack.”

“Don’t we owe it to them, to us, to try?”

She pulls back enough for her nose to brush against his. Emily decides that she’s going to let herself have what she wants. She nods before she kisses him, sighing as they both lean further into it. She breaks off with a laugh when she feels the baby kick against their hands.

Aaron looks down at her stomach in wonder. “He’s kicking?”

She nods at him. “He’s kicking.”

For the first time since the test came back positive she genuinely feels like everything might work out. ____________

By the time she's 8 months pregnant she is spending the vast majority of her time at his apartment, even when he was away on a case, and she tries to ignore what that means. That she’s 2 months into a relationship with a man and practically living with him and his son. Whilst being pregnant with his second son.

Her mother had always told her that she didn’t do anything by half.

Emily is sitting on a park bench, watching Jack play on the swings, with her hand pressed into her belly when she feels it. The familiar feeling of being watched. She feels a shiver run down her spine, goosebumps raising over her body.

Her first instinct is that it’s Ian. All of her logical thoughts that he was dead, that she’d watched him die, being beaten by the anxiety coursing through her. Every reason she had left DC in the first place comes flooding back and she has to take several deep breaths. The feeling doesn’t go away, she looks around the park quickly. She can’t see him, can’t see anyone that looks like they’d be associated with him, but she feels like she needs to leave. Like she needs to get Jack, and her baby, back home as quickly as possible.

She’s about to walk over to Jack, make him leave his friends so she could take him home, when she hears a familiar voice.

“Emily?” She whips round to see Beth standing next to her, an awkward look on her face as she takes in Emily’s appearance. “I saw you from across the park, I thought it was you.”

“Beth. Hi.” She tries to smile. “How have you been?”

“Good.” She nods. She looks at her again, eyes landing on Emily’s bump. The unspoken understanding from the other woman that she was pregnant with Aaron’s child. “You look well.”

Emily’s smile falters. The last time she had seen Beth had been at JJ’s wedding, the night she’d had sex with Aaron when his girfriend was just downstairs. Beth would know that. Emily knew that Aaron was a good enough man to have told her everything when he broke up with her.

“I am really sorry, Beth. For how everything happened.”

Beth laughs and sits on the bench next to her. “That is almost exactly word for word what Aaron said when we got back to his place after JJ and Will’s wedding.” Beth looks over to where Jack is playing and smiles. “I knew something had happened, neither of you were very subtle.”

Emily feels her baby roll in her belly and she presses her hand to it, hoping the gentle circles soothe her son as well as herself.

“I...I guess saying we didn’t mean for it to happen won’t mean much.”

“It doesn’t.” Beth says, a wry smile on her face as she turns back to Emily. “But are you both happy?”

Emily doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. We are.”

“Then maybe it was all worth it.” Beth says as she stands. “I should get going, tell Jack and Aaron I said hi.”

“You should say hi to Jack.”

“It’s ok. I don’t want to confuse him.” Beth smiles at Emily one last time. “Tell Aaron I’m glad he’s happy.” ____________

Aaron gets back to his apartment, the case he had been on two days too long for his liking, to find Emily fast asleep on the couch, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of leggings, with her hand pressed into her stomach. He smiles as he hangs up his keys and sets the alarm, setting his briefcase down on the side. He walks over to the couch and sits on the edge of it, gently waking her. She opens her eyes and looks at him.

“You’re home.” She murmurs, the roughness to her voice giving away that she’s been asleep for a while.

He hums in his throat as he strokes his hand over her head. “Why are you on the couch, you know it doesn’t do your back any good.”

“I was waiting up for you.” She sits up slowly, accepting his help to get her upright. Emily leans against his side as he sits next to her, smiling when he puts one of his palms on her belly and kisses the top of her head. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He tilts her head and kisses her properly, feeling her smile against his lips as the baby rolls in her stomach. “How are you?”

“Good.” Emily answers. “My entire body is sore. But good.”

He hums his sympathy and rubs his hand over her stomach, the baby forever active in a way he knew had caused Emily to lose sleep.

“I’d like to take you on a date.” He says, smiling as Emily pulls back from him, a look of curiosity on her face. “I realised today that I've never taken you on one.”

“Aaron.” She replies, a smile on her face. “I’m 8 months pregnant with your son, I think we’re a little past dating.”

“True, but you have only just agreed to be my girlfriend.” He laughs when she scrunches her nose at him, leaning down to kiss the tip of it. “What?”

“The word ‘girlfriend’ makes it sound like I’m 14, not in my 40s.”

Aaron smiles at her again and kisses her, smiling against her lips. “Well, I’d propose to you so you could call me your fiancée, but I worry that would send you running back to London.”

Emily laughs, kissing him again quickly. “I wouldn’t run away, but I might check if you were feeling ok.” She rests her head against him again. “I saw Beth today.”

He stiffens, his arms tightening around her. “How was that?”

“Awkward.” She answers, turning her head to kiss his shoulder through his shirt. “But she was very nice. Nicer than I might have been in her shoes.”

“I’m glad.” He kisses the top of her head. “What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else happened?”

She scoffs. “Can’t keep anything from you.” She sighs. “I could tell someone was watching me, and before Beth came over I thought it was Ian.” He doesn’t say anything, and it spurs her on. “I know he’s dead, that I don’t have to be afraid anymore, but I was for so long.” She feels her emotions rise in her chest, tears flooding at her eyes as she was at the mercy of her hormones. “And I have so much more to lose now.” She wipes her face. “You, Jack. The baby.”

He kisses the top of her head again, then her temple, holding her impossibly tighter. “You aren’t going to lose any of us, sweetheart.” He tilts her chin so he can kiss her properly. “This is it now. Forever.”

She ignores the voice in her head that tells her he can’t promise her that, and she nods.

“If that’s a proposal I’m leaving.” She jokes and it makes him laugh, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Trust me, baby. You’ll know when I’m proposing.” ____________

He takes her on a date the following week. She lets him take her to a restaurant and spoil her, and he doesn’t make any comments when she orders enough food for at least 3 people for herself.

He takes her for ice cream after, going into the store and getting it himself so she doesn’t have to get back out the car, her ankles sore and swollen.

That night they lay in his bed, the one she really knows is theirs, and as he runs his fingers up and down her bare spine she drifts off to sleep.

“I love you.” She whispers into the room, the first time she has said it to him.

She stays awake long enough to hear him say it back. ____________

It should never have happened, but when their son, Benjamin, is born three weeks later Emily is so glad it did.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #Season 8AU #fluff #angst #family #accidental pregnancy #this has it all folks

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

you look happier

unrequited hotchniss & unrequited moreid all in one big sad package. for, of course, @eprcntiss <3

ao3

She knew Spencer would be at her door as soon she got the invite.

Derek was getting married.

As soon as she saw it, her mind began coming up with excuses as to why she couldn’t make it, maybe she could say there was a big case, or she just could not get out of work, that she was sorry, she’ll send a gift.

She knows there’s no point. Derek knows her well enough to know the true reason she won’t -can’t- attend his wedding.

Aaron.

The one that got away, that is if you can even lose someone you never had.

She refuses to say she moved because of him, but, she’s mature enough to accept that he was a factor in her decision. That watching him move on and fall in love with someone else was too much for her, especially on top of everything else. On top of loosing her sense of self, her feelings of home and family. Loosing her ability to settle back into her own life, back into Emily... Loosing him to was just too much for her, moving was her only option.

She thinks she regrets it sometimes, when JJ and Penelope have a girls night and they send her pictures, when Morgan calls her to update her on the gossip, which, if she ever told anyone he knew about, he would deny even on his death bed. But when Reid sends her a picture of a book he’s reading that he knows she’ll love, or when he calls her, sad and heartbroken over Morgan not feeling the same, hurt that the man he loves will never love him back, that’s when she thinks she regrets it the most, because he was there for her when Aaron moved on with Beth. He sat with her in her apartment, trying to cheer her up, he lay with her in bed, letting her cry silently while they both stared at the ceiling, his hand latched in hers, he’d bring over a film and some ice cream in an attempt to cheer her up, to take her mind of it. He’d wiped her tears at JJ’s wedding when he’d found her in the bathroom, whispering to her that she has him, she’ll always have him, and they can do this together. He’d taken her home after she’d danced with him, sat with her and understood, when she told him she had to leave. He hugged her at the airport while holding back his own tears and as she made him promise he wouldn’t make the same mistake she did, he’d laughed sadly and promised her he wouldn’t.

She knows she regrets it six months after she leaves, when Spencer calls her.

“Hello?” She answers, closing her front door.

“Hi,” Spencer says quickly and she frowns, dropping her bags on the floor and kicking off her shoes.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” She asks, her tone laced with worry.

“I erm,” He whispers, before clearing his throat. “I did what I promised you I would...” He tells her, his tone low and barley above a whisper.

Her heart hammers in her chest as she holds her breath, “And?”

“He doesn’t feel the same,” He whispers sadly and her heart shatters once more.

“Spence..” She says, “I’m so sorry.” She tells him softly, tears threatening to run down her cheeks, and when a sob racks from his body, raw and broken, her tears fall. She knows she regrets it when his cries are all she can hear and it’s over the phone she has to tell him to breathe, that it will be okay, because god, she would do anything to just hug him right now.

So when the invitation for Dereks wedding is in her hand, she expects Spencer at her door at any moment.

The moment happens exactly three days later, it’s a small knock, one she wouldn’t have even heard it she wasn’t stood close to the door. Opening it, she smiles sadly when she finds Spencer stood there, tears running down his face, a hand wiping them quickly.

“Morgan is getting married.” He whispers to her in a tone that shatters her already torn heart into the ground and she just grabs him, pushing him into her apartment, closing her door and just holding him. Her hands around the back of his neck as he buries his face into her shoulder and just cries, and she cries with him, because she knows exactly how he feels, and that kills her.

“Shh,” She comforts, running a hand through his hair, “It’s going to be okay.” She whispers, “Just breathe.”

He calms down after a few moments, slowly pulling himself from her arms and just stands in front of her. She wipes his tears, offering him the best smile she can and squeezes his hand.

“Come on,” She smiles, “I have ice cream and I have rubbish films.”

He laughs at that, following her into the kitchen. He grabs two spoons while she grabs the ice cream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks softly, the shake of his head is sad as he looks to the ground.

“There isn’t much too say.” He whispers, his voice laced with so much pain she’s surprised it didn’t knock her physically sick.

“Okay.” She accepts with a smile and he follows her into the living room, taking a seat next to her while she looks at him. She takes his hand when the sadness on his face pulls at her heart strings and he squeezes it, looking back at her.

“Does it get easier?” He asks her after a few moments and she sighs.

“Eventually.” She tells him with a sad smile, he nods, taking a deep breath before looking back at the TV.

She hopes he doesn’t ask her to come to the wedding, because she’s never been able to say no to him, and she doubts it will start now.

Unfortunately for her, he does ask her, when they’re both lay, staring at the ceiling of her new apartment, tears falling down his face this time, while she takes his hand, hoping to comfort him. She feels him to turn face her and she closes her eyes with a sigh.

“Will you come to the wedding?” He asks gently, and she looks at him, opening her eyes.

“Spencer..” She sighs, because she can’t. She can’t put herself through seeing Hotch and Beth, and Jack... god. She can’t.

“Please?” He whispers, “I’ll feel a lot better if you’re there with me.” He says, “I can’t do this without you.” He tells her quietly, and the crack in his voice breaks her.

“Okay.” She nods with a small smile, “Just for you.” She teases, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll get each other through this.” He says, and Emily nods.

“We’ll get each other through this.” She repeats to him, and she waits for him to fall asleep before she pulls the covers over his body, running a hand through his hair, before she leaves the room.

Spencer picks her up from the airport two weeks later, wrapping her in his arms as he gets to her.

“Thank you for coming.” He whispers and she chuckles.

“Have I ever said no to you?” She jokes as he lets her go, taking her bag as they walk through the airport.

He smiles as she teases him and she laughs.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” He asks as they drive to the hotel, both of their nerves for similar reasons.

“It’s going to be okay.” She reassures him, watching as he swallows and exhales.

“You don’t have to go...” She tells him, “Morgan would understand.”

“I have to,” He says, shaking his head, “I just...I have to.”

“It won’t make you feel any better,” She tells him honestly and he looks at her. “You think it will, seeing them together, but it won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know being here is going to be hard for you.”

“Ill be fine,” she smiles, grabbing his hand, “I have you right?” She teases, a smirk on her face and he laughs.

“Always.”

Penelope is the first person to run to her as she walks into the hotel lobby.

“I have missed you so much.” She says as she holds her returned friend tightly.

“I’ve missed you too.” Emily laughs happily.

“My turn.” JJ jokes as she jabs Penelope, who backs off with a playful apology.

“It’s good to see you,” JJ says as she hugs her friend, “We didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss out on watching Mr commitment phobe tie the knot? Never.” Emily laughs, “And who can say no to Reid, seriously?”

“Someone can,” He mutters from just behind her and as she parts from JJ she turns to face him.

“Spencer...” She says, piercing her lips together and he shrugs.

“What?” He mumbles, not looking up from the floor.

“Petty isn’t a good look on you.” She says, nudging him so he’ll look at her. “Smile, be nice and just...don’t leave me on my own.” She jokes and he smiles, dropping his head as he kicks the floor.

When his voice hits her ears she freezes. She doesn’t miss the way Spencer’s eyes snap to her, grabbing her hand almost instantly and she looks at him.

“Deep breath, smile.” He says softly and so she inhales, slowly exhaling while she closes her eyes.

“God I hate my life,” She mutters and Spencer laughs as she smirks.

She turns to face him then, the sight of his hand latched in Beths while she talks to Jack as he stands next to her is enough to make her wish the floor would just collapse underneath her.

“Emily, hi.” He says as he spots her and she smiles. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wasn’t,” She says in the best fake nice tone she has, “Change of plans.”

“I see.” He nods, “It’s good to see you, we should catch up later.” He offers with a smile.

“Sure.” She smiles back, her hands squeezing Spencer’s so hard she hears him yelp at her side and she drops it, hanging her head to the floor as Hotch’s attention goes back to Beth and she curses under her breath.

“I need a drink,” she says, “Maybe several.”

“I think you broke my hand.” Spencer complains, unclenching it with a hiss as he holds it in front of him.

“Well if it isn’t my princess.” A happy voice says behind her and she turns, smiling as he walks towards her, she laughs as his holds out his arms, expecting her to run into them, he gets closer and before she can say anything, she’s wrapped around him and in the air.

“God i’ve missed you.” He says as she laughs, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. Her feet hit the floor gently as he cups her face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She says, placing her hands over his and he smiles. He looks behind her, watching with sad eyes as Spencer walks away, eyes on the floor as he’s grabbed by Henry.

“Did he tell you?” He asks, her smile falls slightly as she nods.

“It’s not your fault,” she tells him, “Give him some time, you’ll get your friend back.”

“Did Hotch ever get you back?” He asks sadly and she sighs.

“That’s different.” She tells him and he shakes his head.

“No,” His voice sad, “It’s not.”

“You can’t help how you don’t feel just as much as he can’t help how he does, you know that.”

“I know,” Morgan sighs, pulling her into his arms once again. “I wish he’d never said anything.” He whispers, “Is that selfish?”

“I think we’re all allowed to be a little selfish when it comes to thinks like this.” She offers him and he takes it, kissing the side of her head.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers, “Now, tell me about Savannah..” She teases, and Morgan laughs.

She finds Spencer later that day in the lobby, the whole team dressed to the nines as they wait for transport to the wedding. She comes up behind him, gently placing a hand in his back as she comes to his side, he turns to face her with a sad smile.

“Sorry about before.” She whispers, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” He tells her, “He’s your friend, it’s his wedding day..”

“Still, I could have chosen a better moment.”

“Emily,” He says, “It’s fine. You’re here now.”

She takes his hand and squeezes it, hearing the team head their way.

“Is everyone ready?” JJ asks as she looks around, “Okay. Let’s go.”

The wedding is beautiful, but all Emily will remember is how her eyes failed to ever leave Aarons’s back, how Spencer held her hand the entire time, holding back tears as Morgan said his vows, how Jack turned to face her at one point and waved, a huge smile on his face, waving back was hard, looking at the not so little boy she always thought she’d help raise.

“I hate weddings,” She whispers to Spencer as the room erupts in cheers for the newly married couple.

“Me too.” Spencer replies, faking a smile as the couple walk back down the aisle.

The reception isn’t any better.

Spencer watches as Morgan and Savannah dance.

Emily watches as Aaron and Beth dance.

Both wish they were absolutely anywhere else.

Spencer leaves her alone for five minutes, and that’s all it takes.

“Hey.” Aaron says as he comes to the side of her, she turns with a forced smile.

“Hey.” She replies, before sipping the last of her champagne.

“I haven’t seen you much tonight, I thought you’d be dancing with JJ and Garcia.” He says, as though they’re just old friends, and she feels the familiar ache in her heart when she reminds herself that to him, that’s all they are.

“I’m not really in the dancing mood,” She says, “Jet lag.”

“Ah,” He accepts, sipping on his whiskey, eyeing her over his glass, “Are you sure that’s all it is? Jet lag?” He questions, staring right at her and her mouth goes dry as he meets her eyes.

“I’m fine.” She lies, looking away from him quickly, knowing he was always the only one to ever catch her in a lie.

“Emily-“ He whispers gently, placing his hand over hers but she yanks it away quickly, shaking her head.

“Please don’t do this.” She whispers, her voice on the verge of breaking.

“I miss you.” He whispers to her and she closes her eyes, inhaling a breath as she swallows the lump in her throat.

“Stop,” She whispers, pleads, almost “Just...Stop.”

He just nods, smiling sadly at her once more, nodding at Spencer before he walks away, heading back over to Beth and Jack. His family.

“You okay?” Spencer whispers, she just smiles. Tears filling her eyes that she refuses to let fall.

“I’m okay.” She says, clearing her throat. “Are you?”

“No..” He says, looking to his left as Morgan dances with his new wife.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, rubbing her hand over his arm. His head drops as he nods, quickly wiping the tear that rolls down his cheek.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She whispers and he laughs, nodding his head. “Okay.” She says, slowly walking them through the reception to not catch anyone’s attention as they slip out.

Half an hour later they’re lay on the bed, still dressed in their wedding outfit, staring on the ceiling.

“I asked you the other week, if it got easier.” He says, she turns to face him as he speaks, “You said eventually...” He pauses, watching as her eyes just stare at him sadly, “It didn’t get easier for you, did it?”

Emily turns away, her eyes on the ceiling as she just lets her tears fall freely.

“No,” she whispers sadly, her broken tone echoing around the room. “No it didn’t.”

“You still love him?”

“I think I always will.”

He sighs, looking back to the ceiling as he claps his hand in hers.

“Do you regret it, never telling Hotch how you felt?”

“All the time.” She sighs, “Which is why even though I know it wasn’t the response you wanted, you should be happy that you told him. That you know now, instead of being left with the what if’s,” She tells him in a low voice, “It’s the what if’s that get you.”

“You could still tell him...” He whispers, but she shakes her head.

“He’s happy, he’s in love...I’m not going to ruin that.”

“Even if it means you’ll never know if he feels his he same?”

“He doesn’t.” She tells him sadly, wiping her tears.

“How can you be sure?” His voice is soft, gentle and she turns to face him with a smile.

“I just am.”

fin

#:/ this is what happens when you let me talk to lili past ten pm #it’s actually sick now last night i turned against them :(#im back now bestie do not worry :) i love hotchniss #moreid just hits different unrequited i am sorry :/#hotchniss fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #moreid fic #unrequited love fic #criminal minds fic #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #hotchniss #my fics

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sweetbunnykook · 3 years

Text

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Beast with Two Backs II

Yandere husband!JK x Rescued wife!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble

Warning: dub-con (groping, kissing), abuse of power (emotional manipulation, financial abuse, starvation), handcuffs

Word: 1,557

Synopsis: When Jungkook’s love hurt more than his punishments.

“Please, please, Jungkook, I won’t do it again. Please,” you whimper, pulling on the handcuffs as your husband places the disc inside a DVD player and waits for it to load. He struggles to keep his expression cold when you’re already crying as soon as you wake up to find the cuffs are still wrapped around your wrists. He adjust his cufflinks to distract himself from the fact that maybe he went too far this time.

He didn’t mean to make you cry but this is the only way you’ll learn that you’re meant to be with him. If you see how adorable you look next to him during the wedding, you’ll learn that you don’t need anyone else. You don’t need to keep fighting him, to turn your cheeks away when he wants to kiss you goodbye before work, to cover yourself when he watches you bathe in a tub full of flowers.

When the familiar orchestral music sounds from the speakers you let out a hoarse cry, thrashing in the white bridal nightie you’ve been wearing for the last two days. You’re sick of the romantic soundtrack and even more sick of seeing yourself docile and naïve in Jungkook’s arms, your eyes glazed from the opiates running through your veins on that day.

Jungkook’s head turns quickly towards when he hears the harsh cacophony of steel scraping against wood and immediately comes to your bedside to keep your hands still.

“Stop moving so much, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He commands, brows drawn together as he witnesses the deep red marks around your wrists. You must have been pulling on them all night despite knowing the wooden bedpost is indestructible and there’s no chance of escape.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you cry, curling your legs up to your torso and burying your face in the feather pillows. “Please,” you look up at him with tears rolling down your cheeks, your soft hiccups and sobs melting his heart in the right places. “I won’t be bad anymore. I’m so hungry…please, Jungkook…”

His lips press together as he feels tears blur his own vision and he momentarily turns away to wipe his face with the flat of his palm. You feel a twinge of hope when he opens the nightstand drawer and pull out a black box with a neat white ribbon wrapped around the edges. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your curled figure and unwraps the package to reveal four rows of chocolates, six on each row.

Your stomach growls and cramps upon the sight of such glossy chocolate truffles, each with a berry vanilla cream tucked in the center. Jungkook finds your wide eyes endearing as you glare at the chocolates as if it’ll fall into your mouth the harder you looked. It’s not exactly nutritious food, but sweets are just as tantalizing as a three-course meal. In your situation, you can’t find it in you to complain.

Jungkook pulls the box away for a second, relishing in your sweet whines, as he stumbles upon an idea. He runs his fingers over the chocolates and then back at you with your head buried in the pillows but red eyes trained on his, arms twisted to leave a small gap between the cuffs and the bruised skin around your wrists. Making a final decision, he takes the remote controller on the nightstand and turns off the television. The silence of the bedroom elicits a sigh of relief that you hope he won’t notice, but he does anyway and momentarily feels saddened by it. He then kneels closer to your body, wrapping an arm around your waist and hoisting you up on the pillow so your back can rest. The angle provides orgasmic relief to your strained arms and shoulders that you can’t help but moan softly, the sound of your saccharine voice making Jungkook’s hands falter as he tucks your hair behind your ears and cups your face with one hand.

He reaches next to him and brings the chocolate up to your lips, watching your eyes widen as you crane your neck to bring it into your mouth. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction as he slips the truffle in his own mouth and brings his lips over yours. Your greedy tongue licks the cream on his lips before you roam your tongue into his mouth and swallow melted chocolate, ignoring the pang of pleasure that breeds warmth deep in your core when Jungkook brushes his tongue against yours. His long hair tickles your cheeks as he moves cautiously against your lips. If your hands were free, you would have pulled him closer by his black coat lapels to feel more of him. He gasps when you lick a stripe up his chin to catch the remaining cream before digging your tongue back into his mouth until all the sugary sweetness dissipates.

The chocolates are so milky and fragrant you can feel tears prickle the edge of your eyes which Jungkook softly wipes away with the pads of his thumb. His darling, so easy to punish, so easy to please. He reaches over to the remote and places it next to the box of chocolate, giving you the ultimatum he’d written in his mind: either you watch the wedding again and starve for the day or you can satiate a part of your cravings by giving him the kisses you’d denied him.

“Do you want more?” He asks, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip and trailing his warm palms over your heart, beneath the sheer nightie to feel the soft swells of your breasts.

“Answer me.” He digs his fingers in your skin and gropes your mounds whole.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You swallow the chocolate remaining in the back of your throat like you swallow your pride. “Yes, sweetheart.”

His smile is wide and bright as he trails his hands down further down to your waist to rub your aching belly. Your knees come together when he brings his fingers down towards your womb and draw circles around your hipbones.

“That’s my good girl.”

He pops another chocolate in his mouth and brings his soft lips to yours once more, tongues moving against each other while the truffle disappears into a syrupy sweetness that leaves you whimpering like a lost kitten.

Jungkook knows he must leave for work or else he’ll be late to the meeting but he’s drowning in pleasure and your tongue is driving him crazy. He longed to feel your kisses, to feel your softness on his skin, to watch the flush on cheeks deepen and your thighs rubbing together to satiate a different kind of craving he longed to hear you beg him for. For now, he’s satisfied with just your lips. It doesn’t hit you until much later that the chocolate has long melted and your lips are moving against Jungkook’s out of its own will. His hands cups underneath your jaw to angle your head as he wishes and you ignore that feeling of worthlessness that will crawl its way up your cuffed legs after he’s gone. For now, the pleasure is too great to refuse and your husband smelled too good, tasted too good, and felt too good pressed against your body.

If you didn’t misbehave, your days could be more like this, filled with more of his loving touches and kisses. Had you met him under different circumstances, had he genuinely wanted you as a wife and not as a pet he feeds in exchange for your attention and love, you would have fallen for him. You wish you could go back to the time when you thought Jungkook was your savior and not your captor. You wish you can go back to the time when the scent of his cologne brought you peace and the warmth of his coat around your shoulders gave you a feeling of home you haven’t had in a long time.

With a gasp, you turn your head to the side, peeling your lips away from his. Your breaths are harsh and labored and your eyes are wide as you’re hit with a pang of realization that the pleasure you’re feeling now is part of his punishment. These doses of affection between anger makes you believe everything is okay but you know as soon as he leaves for work and you’re forced to think about yourself, everything comes crashing down.

“Can you undo the cuffs? B-before you go to work?” You ask while he’s catching his breath.

Jungkook nods eagerly, still buzzed with delight as he snakes the key out of his pockets and undo your handcuffs. He rubs your sore wrists and kisses them softly. You sit and watch him worship every knuckle and every crevice of your hands with his lips, exhaling when you don’t pull away for once. Perhaps the punishments are working, he thinks.

Fresh drops of tears roll down your cheeks once more and Jungkook murmurs your name before kissing them away. He thinks you’re relieved about your freed arms and the first taste of joy that you willingly took from his mouth.

What he doesn’t know is that you’re crying for him, and for what could have been, had he given you a chance to learn what love is.

#bunny:drabble #I had so much work to do today and you know what that means 🤣 time for a drabble!!!!#beast with two backs JK #something borrowed something blue #yandere jungkook #bts fanfiction #bangtan fanfiction #Jungkook fanfiction #Jungkook angst #bts angst

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

The Watcher

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Synopsis: You were supposed to be living your dream life… One where you would be able to start a happy family with your partner but instead here you were - sleep deprived and terrified of the very own walls you once called home. All because of him - he who haunted you day and night, he who surrounded the hidden corners of your mind. He, who called himself: ‘The Watcher.’

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Suicide mention, Abusive relationship, Mentions of mental illness

Headline: Couple Flee Dream Home After Threats From “The Watcher”

Admin: @roses-ruby

“Are you sure on the color? I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

“Yeah,” You reply casually, taking a mug out from the moving box. There was a paper wrapped around the mug for glass protection – one you discarded back into the package before placing the cup on the marbled counter. The kitchen window didn’t have curtains yet, which let warm sunlight pour into the room and light up the whole area. “It’s a really soft green. I think it’s optimistic.”

Your husband scoffs playfully as you walk over to the coffee maker. You had just moved in yesterday so your dream house – ready to be filled with everything you’ve cultivated throughout the years – only contained a mass of unloaded belongings. Yet still, nothing could beat the simple contentment of just existing in the exact place you’ve always wanted.

“I’m so happy to be here.”

“Well, I’m glad someone is.” Taehyung interrupts your wonder.

You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, grabbing the coffee pot, “Another letter?”

“Yup, the fourth one.” He sighs, “These neighborhood kids you know…they’re kinda creepy…”

Ever since you moved in you’ve been receiving odd, unmarked envelopes with strangely worded letters inside. They contained weird riddles and vague threats but neither of you were alarmed, deducing that the neighboring children were playing a prank on the newbies. Stranger things have happened, right? Perhaps you were both fools still in the honeymoon phase, too excited about your first month of marriage and future life to be brought down by such shenanigans.

“Oh, they’ll stop eventually. What was it this time though?”

“Something about the works of Jean-Paul Sartre or something-”

As soon as you heard the name, you froze in your tracks with the coffee pot hanging over the blue mug. Jean-Paul Sartre? No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. Your husband seemed to be saying something in the background, but your brain was too blurred to listen. There was no way it was him. Even if there has only ever been one man you’ve encountered who was in love with the French philosopher as much as you were. It’s not him – not after 6 years. Not him.

“___?” His soft voice fills your ears, “___, I won’t let you go. You’re mine, now and forever-”

“___?” You suddenly feel someone grab your arm, snapping you out of your nightmare as you come face to face with your husband.

“…Huh?”

“Are you alright, ___? You look a little pale.” He asks, with concern lacing his features.

“I…I’m fine…I’m alright Taehyung…you know just…with the move and all…I’m tired…sorry…” You stutter out a response which he obviously didn’t believe. The more you gaze into his orbs, the more frightened you feel. Instead of easing his worry, your mind was only thinking of one thing: this can’t happen again, not again. Deciding that you didn’t want to be interrogated further, you move away from him, turning around and changing the subject.

“So…I’ll grab the paints today-”

“I’ll do it,” He interrupts, “If you’re tired you should go lie down.”

He walks past you, out of the room and a minute later you hear the front door open and shut. You just stand there – like a fool, wishing you could stop this feeling of fear and remorse from paralyzing you. Everything was going so well and then you had to go and ruin it by bringing him back into your conscience. Clenching your fist tight, you begin to cry, loathing yourself the most in that moment. This is what always happens to you when it concerns him and it’s why you don’t want him to come back into your life.

Please, not him.

“It does look optimistic!”

“Like a field of grass in front of a farmer!”

“Ugh, again?” You groan at your husband’s habit of cringe-inducing analogies.

“Oh, come on they’re cute!” He says, wrapping his arms around you as you laugh. The wall paint had finally dried and the soft green had settled nicely along with your furniture that you both had exhaustingly positioned in place. While you were playfully wrestling each other in the living room, you heard a small rustle of paper from the front door indicating the arrival of mail.

“I’ll get it!” You shout, removing his large limbs from you.

He chases you to the front door, tickling you as you pick up the fallen mail and begin to scour through the bills and ads for something important over a fit of laughter. The amusement and hustling came to a halt once you found another blank envelope in between your fingers. No one made a sound, already knowing who the sender would be.

“I’ll throw it out…” You hear the anger in your husband’s tone as he holds out his hand.

But rather than giving him the envelope, something inside of you encourages you to open it and take out the letter inside. There was a heavy, malevolent lull that surrounded the atmosphere as you began to read its contents.

“Dear ___, so divine.

I can’t stop running until you’re mine.

I keep this leash for the sake of peace,

and I’ll bite my tongue until blood fills my lung.

But Dear ___, so divine.

You should know that you’ll be mine.

I’ll watch you sleep and torch your wings

Until you’re wearing my wedding ring.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

“…What the fuck…” You could hear the horror in Taehyung’s voice. “How does he know your name?”

Because it’s him. Of course it is.

“It’s…nothing,” You say absentmindedly, laughing as you place the letter back in the envelope with trembling digits, “Just kids… playing a prank…”

“This is not the work of ‘some kids!’ It’s obviously a psychopath!” He yells in panic

“Don’t…” You mutter, an abrupt beating in your brain, “Don’t raise your voice, Tae.”

“But __-”

“I said it’s the fucking kids, didn’t I?” You grit in his face with your eyebrows furrowed.

He gapes at you for a second, his face a mix of confusion and shock, before he takes a step back. Taehyung didn’t understand why you were upset and he wanted to argue but then he saw the color leave your face.

You were staring straight at him, until you couldn’t anymore. The walls that were so beloved a minute ago now came closing in on you. Your breathing became hoarse and you took in large amounts of air to compensate up till the point where you couldn’t perceive clearly.

“___?” Your husband, a mere black silhouette, shook your arms as you began to bend over.

You panted as hard as you could, but you weren’t able to breathe and started to choke on your own spit. His image was lodging itself throughout your mind and the tears that crept out of your eye sockets felt like stones. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this is exactly why you didn’t want to believe it was him.

“Slowly baby! Breath slowly! Calm down!” His speech became foggy as your vision began to fade.

“H…seok-”

And then it was all black.

You woke up with a gasp, the image of a white ceiling sticking to your eyes. Did you pass out?

“Are you okay?” You hear your husband and turn your face to see him sitting on the floor next to you, who laid on the sofa. His face was downcast, hand holding onto you tightly as you slowly recalled everything that happened before you fainted.

“Yeah…I’m fine…”

Taehyung’s expression brought back that feeling again. That traitorous fear, that immense guilt. He deserved none of it and you hated yourself for making him worry. Countless times – you told yourself that you were over him and you could now wholeheartedly move on with your husband. But it seems like that was nothing but your own deceitfulness.

How did he even find you? What did he want from you now after six whole years? You try to sit up, wanting to feel as complete as you did before the wretched moment this afternoon.

“Tae…a-about the letter-”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry about that.” He smiles, helping you up by placing his hand against the small of your back, “…Just like you said, a prank, right?”

Taehyung, a man so usually stubborn – there was something off about his stance that you couldn’t pinpoint. But whatever it was, you were fine with it as long as it meant that you wouldn’t have to confront that. So, with a tense smile, you lie through your teeth.

“Y…yeah.”

And maybe this was your own undoing, but in that very second, when he gives you a beaming grin, you laugh. A bolder of pressure releasing from your shoulders. It’s alright, this was still your house and you were still safe here. Away from him.

You don’t notice Tae’s face falling as soon as you looked away.

When you woke up again, it had already been a month.

A month of living in your dream home with the dream life you’ve always wanted. Nothing could make you happier. You leave the bed and wander into the hall to remind yourself that this was real – that this serene place really existed, and you were going to start your new married life here. Placing your hand against the painted green wall, you marvel at the beautiful blend of colors and textures.

You found yourself searching for your husband around the large house you got to call a home. It had been your goal since long ago to own a place like this. Of course, back then you had desired the commitment with your then boyfriend, Hoseok.

In that instant you stop walking. Hoseok. It’s been a long time since you’ve recalled that man and hadn’t withdrawn in apprehension. He was a happy man, the Hoseok that everyone loved. A handsome man that was always glowing with a bright ball energy, he was everyone’s friend…a mood maker. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t love him. But the Hoseok you knew – your Hoseok was a monster.

A monster hell bent on possessing you.

Everyone adored him, but he only loved you. You were so delighted that he did, so overcome with joy that you hadn’t realized then that his fondness came with many setbacks. He made you laugh, he made you cry, but mostly, he made you feel love in a way you didn’t think was possible. Blame it on your youth – you were too wrapped up in the idea of Hoseok’s affection to understand that it wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t normal.

So, you overlooked his possessive nature and his jealousy and his anger. But your body didn’t. Your skin still held scars he cultivated through nights of sexual torture. Your ears still remember the words he used to berate you. Wounds you used to adore left you with raw shame after he discarded you. So much shame, that you couldn’t even think about him or your relationship with him without utter dread grabbing at your bones. However, it didn’t matter much anymore. You were no longer a young girl desperate for his approval… you were an adult – a woman who fell in love and got married to the only man she’ll ever need.

He won’t be able to possess you ever again; he was a monster. You’re so thankful that he hadn’t sent another letter for a while now, although his silence was a tad unnerving.

The door you stood in front of creaked suddenly, catching your attention. It was then that you realized you had ended up in front of your husband’s home office. That’s right, you were looking for your husband. A much kinder and sane person.

With a smile, you push open the door to be greeted with a large, soundless room. Your smile disappears as you spot the mess of papers on your husband’s desk. They were littered everywhere, covering the whole table while some fell onto the chair and the floor. You never knew that a messy pile of papers could look so menacing. The beating of your heart grew louder as you stepped closer to the desk.

You pick up a letter, then another – then many more as horror starts to fill your lungs. More poems and threats – all of them scattered in erratic handwriting that spelled insanity. All of them signed, ‘The Watcher.’ Had it gotten this bad? But when? How? Your husband hadn’t told you about any of this.

Your eyes land on a particular letter and you begin to read it against your own will. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, the only one that directly contained your name was the divine poem. Still, you knew if it was from him, then it was for you.

Do you remember when we used to visit that bistro across the street from your dorms? How cold it was that one night, and you hated the cold so I held your hand in mine to keep you warm. Your whole body was a chill and I took pride in heating every inch of your heart. I could watch you for hours on end, and never bore. I loved you dearly, only you. That’s why I’ll watch you for a thousand nights and love you for a thousand more.

Sincerely, The Watcher.

The bistro…you vaguely remember that place. Two college students barging in half high and so annoyingly in love. Hoseok would get so upset when you made eye contact with other male customers and sometimes, he would pick fights with them. Take them behind an alley and return all black and blue.

“I won.” He’d say with a grin while you cried your eyes out, wondering what was wrong with him but being too devoted to his smile to actually care.

“Why…why now…” You muffled in a painful voice.

Suddenly you heard the sound of words being spoken in the distance. It came from downstairs, somewhere near the front door. You gradually moved towards the voice, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts. Once you were in the living room, you stopped and hid halfway between a wall, spotting your husband talking to a man in a suit.

“I just…don’t know detective…”

Detective? He called the police?

“The letters, they’re deranged…and they’re just getting worse I’m- I’m afraid for me and my wife…I don’t know what to do…”

“Well, I can tell you to not worry too much.” The older gentleman replied in a gruff voice, “Whoever this is hasn’t done anything but send letters, so it seems like he’s just playing with you. I’ll have someone patrolling the block for a while, and we’ll be the ones receiving your mail before you do for now. I’ll be back to collect those letters and…we’ll catch this jerk in a matter of days, I’m sure.”

It seems like this case doesn’t interest him much.

“Th-thank you officer I just…worry about my wife she’s…she was so happy here and then…ever since we started getting these damned letters- that freak even knows her name-”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to question her? Perhaps she knows who this person is.”

“No. I don’t think it will be good for her at all. Last time she read a letter, she had a panic attack… they really upset her, so please…she can’t know of any more.”

“Alright…we’ll see what we can do for now and I’ll follow up in a couple of days…”

“Thank you so much officer-”

Their voices begin to blend into the background as you turned around so that your back was against the wall you hid with. You were finally, finally starting to be happy…truly happy so why? Why would he come back and threaten everything you’ve grown to hold dear? Anger and pain were swimming in your heart. Wasn’t he the one who left you behind? What did he want from you now?

“Why now…Hoseok…”

Two and a half months.

Two and a half months of acting awkward and silent around one another. You sigh, sitting in your car and bracing yourself before you walk through your front door. A month ago, coming home from work was comforting, but now it just felt drawn out and agonizing. Both of you were hiding secrets, and you both simmered in guilt because of it. But it wasn’t any of his fault; it was all yours.

You, who couldn’t get over that damn bastard that left you all those years ago.

Taehyung had always been so kind to you, and you who came out of such a torturous relationship appreciated that more than anything. Yet the thought of him finding out about Hoseok – about everything you let Hoseok do to you was mortifying. Would he, who treats you with so much care, think of you the same after he’s known the truth? It’s why you could never tell him.

You’re not sure if there had been any new letters, since the police was sorting through your mail before it came back to you. But deep down inside, in a secret place, you wanted to see what Hoseok had to say. If he was still reaching out to you, if he was still watching you. With one last breathe, you open the car door and step down, ready to trudge back into your room and forget these thoughts.

Yet suddenly, when you were a few feet from your front door, you hear someone call out your name.

It was a lady, short bobbed hair - someone you knew you’ve seen before. She held a microphone in her hand and there was a man with a camera chasing her. There were many others with similar mics and cams rushing towards you with an eager look in their hungry eyes.

Your heart drops once you realize who they were. Reporters.

A whole group of them.

“Ms. ___, how long have you been receiving these letters now?”

“Is it true that this Watcher is from a previous affair you had behind your husband’s back?”

“Is he just some stalker?”

“How does he know your name? How do you feel about him knowing your name?”

“Are you and your husband sleeping in separate rooms?”

You started to speed towards your door as they all surrounded you, bombarding you with personal questions. Most of them kept saying your name over and over while shoving their devices in your face. So many thoughts ran across your mind but at the moment you were in no position to think calmly. Holding your breath, you managed to make it to the front door and took out your key. There was a slight struggle between you and the lock which they all saw, but still kept hounding on you.

Another panic attack was coming up, you could feel it. It seems like the police has been nothing but incompetent and now your private situation was to become a media debacle. You tried hard to concentrate on opening the door amidst the frenzy. Finally, you were able to make it safely inside and slam the door shut behind, with wild pants leaving your lips.

Your husband heard the noise and rushed from the kitchen to where you stood with a stupid look on his face.

“__-”

“Why are there reporters?”

“What?”

“WHY ARE THERE REPORTERS IN MY DRIVEWAY ASKING ME ABOUT THE FUCKING LETTERS?”

“I-I-I don’t-”

“Who did you tell?” You sneer

“I…I didn’t…just the police I promise!” He genuinely seemed shocked, to which you groaned. His expression became fearful, “You don’t think…that the police…”

“Well someone had to leak it!” Falling onto your knees, you place your head in your hands.

You thought you could come home, that once you came home this headache would end, but it was the loudest when you were in here. All you wanted was to fucking breathe – not hide in your house behind closed curtains, afraid and embarrassed to death with this loud pounding in your brain.

“___...” Taehyung steps close to you, and it seemed like he wanted to take you in his arms.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, making him flinch. “…don’t touch me…”

You were yelling but it was not out of anger. This was all your fault – everything was your fault and you felt nothing but disgust for yourself. Taehyung shouldn’t touch you or he’d become dirty too. For a moment you thought about telling him everything until your eyes caught something behind him.

All the noise outside only subsided once you zeroed in on an envelope slightly sticking out of the antique dresser drawer in your entrance hallway.

“How did that get there?” You slowly lift your hand to point towards it.

Taehyung follows your finger to the antique drawer, and you see the shock form on his face. All the letters were supposed to arrive in the mail which is filtered by the police so how did that get in here?

Was that man…

Was Hoseok in your house?

With a gulp, you stand up and walk closer to the drawer. You look over at Taehyung once you were standing in front of it, and he seemed defeated. Both by this cursed house and the mysterious man watching over it. Closing your eyes, you open the drawer and retrieve the envelope. Falling to the floor once you see that it’s blank again, with a single letter inside.

“I’ll watch you forever.”

Sincerely, The Watcher.

“Honey, the truck’s almost packed.”

“Yeah, just a minute.” You sing-song, staring at the mug you were about to place into the moving box. A strained smile stretches across your face as you think back to three months ago when you were unpacking all your little gadgets and trinkets, ready to settle into this house you once called home. That was a dream and like most dreams, it didn’t last too long. This place was now just a cause of your despair, it made you miserable.

After many sleepless night and restless days, you had decided to move out and try a start a new life somewhere else. Hopefully a place that could put you to ease - one that Hoseok could never reach. Taehyung wanted to move further north, which made you happy because you loved the cold.

Wait…you loved the cold? That’s not right, is it?

Also, it’s not like Hoseok could actually follow you. Because he…wait…how was it that he left you again? You know he left you – you keep repeating it to yourself, but you don’t remember him ever breaking up with you. He never really ‘physically’ broke up with you, did he?

There it was yet again. A loud obscurity corrupting your brain.

When suddenly, a realization comes over you.

Your head whirls towards the box you hovered over. You place the mug on the floor and begin to scrummage through the old box, searching for something specific. Glass protection. Once you feel the crinkly skin of paper, you take it out and smooth it over. The pounding in your head was back, and it was the strongest it has ever been.

Just as you thought, the paper had the familiar ink scribbles of an odd poem. It was a letter. Signed by The Watcher.

How could this be?

This paper was inside the box – you had used it for packing way before you ever stepped foot into this house. Yet for some reason, you can’t recall getting a letter from The Watcher before you moved in here. For a minute nothing made sense to you. It just felt like your conscious was off floating somewhere.

And then you looked up at the painted wall.

“I didn’t know you liked green at all.”

That’s because you don’t. No, of course you don’t, you like blue.

The one who likes green is-

A loud gasp leaves you as your behind makes contact with the floor. Every single thing comes crashing down at once, all the dots start to connect.

Hoseok likes green. Hoseok likes the cold.

Hoseok is…Hoseok is….

He’s dead.

He took his own life 6 years ago… he left you behind. It wasn’t him that’s been writing those letters-

“It was me.”

You forgot. No, you made yourself forget. Because there was no other way for you to cope. Instead of facing the truth, you repressed the memory of his death and then you began to haunt yourself using his image. Hoseok was a domineering force in your life and after possessing every inch of you till the point that there wasn’t a you without him, your mind was unable to comprehend his sudden departure. Tears began to roll down your face as you started to remember it all. Every moment you became ‘him’ and wrote those letters to yourself. You’ve done so for six whole years.

The reason why you’ve never evoked this before just now was the same reason as to why your trauma never became a problem for you until you moved into this house. It was because you just got married. Your mind had become fragile since his death, so shortly after writing and ‘mailing’ yourself these letters for comfort, you would read them and forget with ease, thanks to your isolation. But now that Taehyung was here – now that you were living with him, he became a witness to those letters and therefore gave them an ‘existence.’

He brought Hoseok back to ‘life’ in your brain.

It all made sense now. The headaches and the unbearable pain. You always knew there was something off but could never remember why. All those moments where you were scared of Hoseok, but never afraid of him showing up. Every time you pondered on the consequences of his being, rather than worry about him as a person at all. Only now, you’ve finally put the missing puzzle pieces together. Hoseok wasn’t watching you anymore…he couldn’t.

It was you, The Watcher.

You were the one keeping the monster alive. And you were the only one who could conclusively end him.

“___?” You hear the small, scared voice of your husband from the back. It seems like he heard your cries.

With a quick exhale, you turn around to face him. Looking at him straight in the eyes without any fear for the very first time. Your Tae, who deserved the truth no matter the cost.

“Taehyung…I have something I need to tell you.”

#bts #yandere bts #hoseok #yandere hoseok #hoseok angst #taehyung angst #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #jung hoseok

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citydreamgrls · 3 years

Text

yule ball

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 3,629

a/n: the growing love I’m getting on all my weasley fanfics is amazing, I cannot thank everyone enough so here’s a yule ball one shot instead hope u enjoy !! :))

warnings: mentions of alcohol (?)

George had decided he wanted to go to the yule ball with her the second they announced it, unable to miss the excitement light up in her eyes as the girls around her squealed.

With the fear that someone else could beat him to it, he raced to catch her, Fred mumbling something about how they had a class with her first thing as he left. But he just ignored him, weaving through hoards of people filing out of the great hall.

“Woah steady,” Y/n had laughed, seeing the redhead running towards her in the hallway like a madman. “Who’s died?”

“You wanna go to the ball with me?” He asked, eyes wide and waiting, but still she giggled at him and nodded.

She had presumed he’d asked her because it was an easy choice, they were all friends for a long time, so it would make sense for him that she’d say yes. On the other hand, there was a part of her that was excited to be his date to the ball. As much as she loved Fred equally, something about his brother’s gaze made her heart warm just a little and the idea of spending more time alone with him made her blush to herself.

“He has to have a thing for you,” Angelina pressed, having thought the same thing for years on end. This was just adding fuel to her argument. The twins were messing about across the classroom, unbothered by the dark haired teacher sending them daggers.

“We’re going as friends,” Y/n laughed, trying to finish her potion before Snape came round to check them. Her friend was no help as usual, just flicking through the textbook and gossiping about her day.

“Did he say that?” She asked. “Well, no bu-” “No buts, it’s a date y/n.” “Stop it. He sees me as a friend, that’s all.” She scoffed, finally completing the task and sighing with relief as Snape got nearer.

Deep down she hoped Angelina was right, that her talk of his glances and lingering smiles when they were together was true. Y/n wanted more than anything to not make a fool of herself though, which had held back her feelings all these years in fear of rejection.

That evening she sat with the twins at dinner, as she had done since the first night she arrived at Hogwarts. Fred was doing his best to turn his water into wine, with no luck and George was grilling her about the ball as she tried to eat.

“No I haven’t picked a dress George, I only found out today.” She scoffed, slapping Fred’s hand away from her plate as he tried to steal another roll. “Stop it,”

“Well I just heard some of Ginny’s friends talking about it,”

“They’re probably just over-excited,”

“Aren’t you?” “I’m looking forward to it, but it’s not my wedding day. I have more time to plan.” George nearly choked on his food at the mention of weddings, hoping his half-wit brother hadn’t mentioned anything. But Fred was too busy eating to care about their conversation, so it’s possible he had actually managed to keep his mouth shut this time.

As the week passed slowly, most people flew into the frenzy of finding a date for the ball, or picking out a dress last minute. But y/n was grateful that she had organized it all earlier on, as Angelina’s constant need for an opinion was becoming more and more distracting.

“What about this one?” She pushed the magazine into the sleeping girl’s face.

“I’m not awake,” Y/n grumbled.

“You are now, so look!”

“It’s very nice.”

Angelina groaned and fell back onto her own bed.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“They’re all very good choices, you’ll look great regardless. And I'm sure Fred will think the same.” It was nice to not be on the receiving end of the teasing as Angelina had been asked to the ball by the remaining twin, it gave y/n all the ammunition to joke around with her friend.

“Yeah but your dress is gorgeous, everyone will be looking at you.” She huffed, making the other girl snort herself awake with amusement.

“My dress is black, that’s it.”

“Yeah well it looks really good on you, and I’m sure George would think the same.” The girl groaned, knowing better than to let her guards down with her best friend around.

“Go to bed already!”

“I need to choose one y/n,”

Y/n got up out of bed, grabbing a blanket and heading for the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping in the common room,” She glared and huffed off, her friend still calling after her.

“But the dress!” It called for a big eye roll as she reached the bottom of the stairs, spotting one of the twins with her back to her near the fire. He turned round after hearing Angelina’s voice booming.

George laughed at the sight of her wrapped in a blanket, a scowl plastered on her face.

“Can’t sleep?” He teased.

“Don’t. I’m very sensitive.”

“Oh don’t I know it, remember when Fred and I tried to prank you with that faulty alarm clock.”

“I almost cut both your heads off.” She laughed, only now able to see the funny side of it, and sat beside the boy as he finished writing a letter.

“Good thing you didn’t, or else you’d have no date for the ball.” He smiled at her like he always had done, but paired with those words it felt so much more different.

She couldn’t hide her own smile if she wanted to, turning away a bit as she did.

“Angelina won’t shut up about it.” Y/n pulled the blanket over herself as George let her lay down on him, staring into the fire as it burned brightly.

“I’m sure she’s just over-excited.” He teased her.

“I got my dress by the way, so you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“What’s it like?”

“You’ll find out at the ball nosey.” He nudged her shoulder, making her laugh ever so slightly. It made his heart swell, he loved being the one to make her smile.

They stayed like that as y/n began to drift off, George not wanting to move her, so he just stroked her hair lightly and let the fire burn out into the night.

When they woke up, it was morning and neither of them had moved from the common room sofa. Fred was shaking his brother awake with a yawn.

“Get her up, it’s late.” He grumbled and the boy just nodded, shaking y/n until she rose quietly.

A few days later, when y/n was coming back from the bathrooms with her hair freshly washed but still wet, she heard the true commotion of the Gryffindor girls preparing for the ball the next day. It was a flurry of face masks, nail varnish and teeth whitening strips.

“It came!!” Angelina screamed in joy, bursting into the dorm with a package almost as big as her. She had been worrying about whether or not her dress would arrive before the ball, after spending days trying to decide which one was perfect, but it had done so just in time.

She had barely had a chance to hang out with the twins lately, being too busy studying for her classes and helping Angelina sort out everything. Not having time to sit down for a meal when her homework had begun to pile up, so she sacrificed that time to make sure all her essays were completed in time.

Angelina had gathered a whole group of girls into their dorm to hang out, so y/n excused herself to the common room to paint her nails, not wanting to gas them all out with the fumes. To her relief it was empty, giving her some time to relax. It had struck her how nervous she actually felt about the ball now that it was close, she worried whether she could go the whole night with George before her feelings got the best of her.

She sighed and pulled a foot up to the sofa, reaching down to gently swipe the colour across her nails. The heat of the ever-burning fire helped to dry them off after each coat.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice from behind her teased.

Y/n turned around, smiling when she saw Fred and George coming from the hallways.

“There’s a slumber party going on up there, I’m staying well away!” She sighed, going back to her nails.

The boys took a seat nearby, still in their uniform. She squinted at them both for a second, only George cracking a small smile as she observed them.

“What have you been up to?” The girl accused.

“Nothing at all,” Fred blatantly lied.

“Tell me now.”

“We set off stink bombs in the Ravenclaw bathrooms,” George scoffed, unable to keep their classic prank a secret.

“You’re weak.” Fred complained, slumping further into the armchair.

“You two are like kids”

They stayed with her for a while, Fred quickly getting bored and going off to get changed. But George was a little longer, not wanting her to be on her own all night. He stayed silent as not to distract her, instead he just watched her concentrate. Maybe he had seen it the other night, maybe it had slipped his mind then, but he realised how much he appreciated her face.

How it lit up so much when she was happy, how it glowed in the sunlight. George also adored her without makeup on, not that he’d ever tell his brother that, but she was truly a natural beauty at its best. Wet hair, pyjamas and no makeup on. Yet he was suddenly realising how incredibly lucky he was that she even agreed to go to the ball with him.

“You okay?” Y/n asked, not looking up but now noticing his silence. Something he never did.

“Uh yeah fine,” He laughed it off. “I’m going up to bed.” She looked up, surprised but still sporting a smile as he stood up.

“Sleep well.” He nodded in response and fixed his hair slightly. “Oh and George.” He turned, now behind her on the sofa. She twisted around just a bit, not wanting to smudge her work. “Come here.” She grinned and he leant down, hesitantly.

The girl reached a hand up and ruffled his hair, a laugh spilling past her lips perfectly. George almost blushed like a little boy as she did it, quickly laughing it off and hurrying up to bed before y/n could notice just how flustered she made him.

If y/n had thought the previous night had been manic, then the night of the yule ball was an apocalypse. She’d heard every girl’s problems circulate through her dorm as she tried to do her makeup, a new one arising with every passing minute. She didn’t mind too much, not having to fix them she focused on herself and getting ready in time.

George was sitting in the common room, with a lot of the other Gryffindor boys who were waiting for their dates, fixing each other's robes and checking their hair in the few mirrors. He wasn’t focusing much, just watching his feet as people around him talked about something stupid. He was nervous now, just doing nothing. The footsteps were light, and he hadn’t noticed them until Fred nudged him.

“Look,” He whispered to his brother, nodding to the archway beneath the dorm room steps.

Y/n stood there, surprised to see so many faces staring back at her. All the boys in the room were shocked at her change of appearance, used to her being in the school’s uniform or just comfy clothes.

Now she had her hair perfectly curled past her shoulders, and that black dress fitted her perfectly. George thanked god silently in that moment that she had kept it a secret from him, because it was incredible.

She laughed lightly as her date stood up amongst the small crowd, quickly going over to take her hand. The noise resumed, conversation finally returning but the looks not stopping until they left the common room. Y/n’s heels sounded as she passed by them all, hand in hand with George who couldn’t have felt luckier in that moment.

“You look amazing by the way,” He beamed as they walked through the castle together towards the great hall, where already most of the school was dancing.

They danced for hours, the boy spinning her round over and over just to see that smile across her face when he did. Not that she could stop smiling, being with George made it so easy to forget about everything else in the world. She never wanted it to end.

“I like being with you y/n,” The tall boy had whispered to her while they danced slowly amongst other couples, she had rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed. Her throat froze up as she tried to reply calmly.

“I’m glad you asked me,” She answered, after a painstaking few seconds. Letting the boy release the breath he’d held since he’d uttered those words.

They danced in silence, a mutual understanding of their feelings spreading between the two. Fred and Angelina smiled over at them, both of them now knowing the truth as they saw their friends finally doing what had been hinted at over the years.

Once the dance was over, neith y/n nor George wanted to part ways. So the redhead snuck her out of the great hall, out of the castle and down to the black lake where they could spend just a little more time alone. It was late now, and the girl hoped that everyone would be too tired to come looking for them, maybe then she could stay with the Weasley boy all night.

Her dress was short and the night was cold, especially by the lulling water.

“Take this,” George took his dress robes off and wrapped them around the girl, his hands slowing as her face shone in the moonlight. She blushed at his gaze, making him laugh lightly. They sat by the water, the boy with his arms close around her as she still shivered only slightly. “We can go back if you’re too cold?” He offered, not sure why he was still whispering, but it calmed her.

“No, it’s fine.” Y/n reassured him. “I don’t want to go back yet,”

“Me neither.”

Hours passed as if they were fleeting seconds, ticking by without their knowledge until the sun began to rise and they laughed together. It peeked over the surrounding mountains, hitting them both with a blanket of warmth. She smiled up at George, her eyes glimmering perfectly. No matter how hard he tried, the boy couldn’t help but fall in love with her every time their eyes met.

She made him so brilliantly nervous, so much so that he longed for that moment she would smile or laugh because of him, and he’d forget how to breathe. That feeling in theory would scare George, but in practice it was the best thing he had ever felt.

Until y/n took that jump and reached up for him, her hands going to his face gently. That feeling of her undivided attention made him want to run into the lake with glee, as the girl's gentle lips hit his hard. He could feel that built up tension in her kiss, that she too had been wanting this as badly as himself.

George would later tell his brother that he could’ve died happy in that kiss, he would have let the girl stab him in the back if it meant she would press her lips to his just one last time. Which of course made Fred tease him endlessly, but he was in a daze over her.

But in the moment he took his chance, with the knowledge that it could be his only one, he kissed her with all the passion his body had. His arms wrapping tight around her waist as she ran her hands through his long hair, making him fight back a desperate whimper. The sweet taste of her felt like a drug upon George’s tongue as he held her closer by the second.

A cough from behind startled the pair, causing them to pull away, but the boy wouldn’t let go of y/n. Scared that she wouldn’t come back.

“Thought I’d find you sluts here,” Fred laughed, obviously drunk from whatever he’d been hiding in his robes all night. He squinted at the sun as he stumbled down the hill towards his brother and friend.

Y/n stood, her hand quickly slipping into George’s as she too didn’t want to let go just yet. His heart leaping bounds as she squeezed tight.

“Have you two been here all night?” Fred slurred, wobbling into his brother’s side. George propped him up and they walked up the hill towards the castle.

“Uh yeah sort of… have you been looking for us all night?” Y/n laughed as they reached the courtyard, letting the twins have a much needed rest on the stone wall.

“Angelina went off to bed so I went to find Dean and Lee for some drinks. The last thing I remember is Mcgonagall waking me up outside her classroom.”

“You slept outside transfigurations?” George scoffed, slightly out of breath.

“Must have,”

It seemed that more people had started waking up now, as Angelina appeared from the castle, running across the courtyard to see her friend.

“Darling!” Fred cried out, almost falling over his own feet. The girl just laughed and ignored him, George quickly telling y/n he’d see her later before dragging his brother away.

“So… you obviously never came back last night.” Angelina grinned, seeing her friend watch the redheaded boy she’d been with leave. She was still in her dress and heels with George’s robe over her shoulders.

“I’ll tell you about it once I’ve slept,”

“I bet you haven’t gotten any sleep you naughty thing!” “Lina! It wasn’t like that.” Y/n laughed, taking her best friend’s arm and heading up to their dorm.

After sleeping most of the day, she then found Angelina waiting excitedly on her bed for the girl to tell her every detail of the night. Once she was satisfied with the story the girl went downstairs, leaving y/n to wash up and wake up properly.

It was a sunday, and people were either still hungover like she had been or having to do last minute homework in the library. Luckily she’d prepared well and had the whole day to do as she pleased.

“Fred’s out like a light,” George laughed, making the girl look up from her book. She’d come down to the common room to sit by the fire, still cold from spending the night in a short dress and the boy’s thin robes, which she had yet to give back to him.

He came and sat beside her, smiling as she pushed her book away and gave him her full attention once again. The boy put an arm around her, letting her snuggle into his side as he had done all those nights ago.

“About this morning,” George started, feeling the girl in his arms tense a little “I’m sorry I didn’t make the first move.” Y/n went loose again, smiling up at him and shaking her head.

“I don’t care about that, I’m just glad you didn’t shove me away.” She joked.

“Are you kidding? I’ve had the biggest thing for you, for what feels like forever now?”

“Really?” She squinted, watching his face for any falters.

“Oh ask Fred, if he ever wakes up from his coma, I’ve told him more than I can trust him with. All of it to do with you.”

The girl blushed again, just urging him to hold her closer.

“I’m glad that you kissed me y/n, I wish I had done it sooner but really… it was all perfect.”

“Thank you for taking me to the ball, and being my date, and for feeling the same way about me.”

The two kissed once again, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow as it crackled lightly. Everything around them faded away as both George and y/n wandered whether it was just them left in the world. At least that’s what it felt like.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Fred came sloping down the stairs wrapped in a thick blanket. He had been calling for his brother for about ten minutes now, with no response. That was because the slightly older twin had put a silencing spell on the room, not wanting the sweaty creature he had once known as family to ruin any moment he could spare with y/n.

“I think i’m gonna vomit.” Fred announced from the bottom of the steps. His face pale and gaunt. George didn’t look over before he spoke.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” He laughed, presuming the twin was just poking fun. Y/n’s gasp at the sight before her, however, led him to believe differently.

“Oh he’s gonna puke alright.” She grimaced, getting up and rushing off before she witnessed anything more. “I’ll see you at dinner George!” She called back making him smile, even as she was escaping the grim sight of Fred she still wanted to see him later.

He would have remained blissfully ignorant in his thoughts of y/n, if it wasn’t for the sound of belching beside him that ripped him away from that happy moment.

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Claus

You should know that I wrote this whole thing just for the bad pick-up line Mac uses. And then I got hit with major baby fever while writing the end and....you’ll see. Merry Christmas, y’all! ❤

Established MacRiley AU

*****

Riley’s only warning to Mac’s arrival was the slam of the front door before he yelled, “I’ve got the rings!” His boots clunked on the hardwood floor as he walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Let me get dressed and then we can go—”

Riley met Mac’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. He stood in the doorway, slack-jawed, taking in the full effect of her costume. Smiling to herself, Riley finished applying her mascara, arching her back and sticking her ass out for his benefit.

Mac cleared his throat. “Wow. You look incredible.”

She twirled to give him the full effect. The stretchy, ribbed material of her off-white sweater dress clung to her body, stopping just below her knees and leaving nothing to the imagination. Her favorite black, high-heeled boots gave the outfit just a bit of edge. But the real showstopper was her coat—crimson velvet trimmed with fake fur, swirling gold and silver embroidery, elegant bell sleeves. It even had pockets.

“This is my favorite part.” Clasping her hands behind her back, Riley swayed back and forth, watching the bottom of the knee-length coat swish like a bell.

“It’s stunning,” Mac said, still a little stunned himself. He finally closed the gap between them. “You’re the hottest Mrs. Claus in LA.”

“Literally,” Riley joked. “This outfit is toasty, and in case you didn’t realize, it’s definitely not cold outside.” According to her phone, the high was supposed to be 74 degrees.

Mac rubbed her arms. “In all seriousness though, you look beautiful.”

Even after all this time, Riley still blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips as she pulled him down for a quick kiss.

She sat on the bed, unashamedly checking her boyfriend out while he changed into his own Santa costume to match hers. He fished around in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a pair of rings. “Matty said we, and I quote, have to return these to the Phoenix tomorrow, so no using them to build a homing beacon or something.”

“Got it,” Riley said dryly. “No homing beacon.” She reached for her ring, but Mac seemed to have other ideas. He handed her his ring instead—a white gold band with a thin, but ornate border.

Mac spoke in a deep, announcer-like voice. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus, you may go first.”

Riley held his left hand in hers, playing along. “Do you, Santa Claus, take me to be your wife?” She tried to be serious, but her lips curled into a smile without her consent.

“I do.” Riley slid the ring on. Mac continued, “Do you, Mrs. Claus, take me to be your husband?”

Riley made a show of thinking it over first. “I do.” He slid the ring—an engagement ring and wedding band fused together—onto her finger. She’d worn it before. Like Mac’s, it was white gold, but the tiny diamonds set into the bands made it glitter in the light. The engagement ring part had a princess cut diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds, making the whole thing walk the fine line between opulent and gaudy.

She looked up, and Mac’s soft smile made her want to melt in a puddle. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced, lacing their fingers together.

“Okay.” Riley wrapped her arms around his neck. “You do that.”

*****

They drove Riley’s Jeep to the hospital, since someone forgot to go to the gas station on his way home, and they were already late. They’d gotten a little distracted after their fake wedding.

Mac rested his hand on Riley’s thigh while she drove. She leaned away from him, resting her left elbow on the door and holding the top of the steering wheel with her right. When Mac didn’t take the hint and started caressing her thigh instead, Riley batted his hand away.

“Oh no,” she scolded. “We are not doing this right now.” Mac pouted in the passenger seat.

They arrived at the hospital, hauling two massive bags of presents with them. The hospital administrator met them in the lobby to escort Riley and Mac to the children’s wing, thanking them and the think tank profusely for the entire duration of the walk. She and Mac exchanged the same sly look they always did when someone referred to the Phoenix as a think tank.

Meeting the kids went by in a blur. Altogether too many young, bright faces swarmed the waiting room, clamoring to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus. With each kid she met, Riley was in awe of how they were all so positive and happy and full of laughter, even though many of them were so sick and would be spending Christmas in the hospital.

The kids gravitated to Mac like moths to a flame. He sat and talked to each one, asking how they were doing and what they wanted for Christmas. They asked him ridiculous questions, like what snacks the elves like best and who his favorite reindeer was. In a classic Mac moment, he explained to a wide-eyed group of ten-year-olds that male reindeer lose their antlers every winter, so his reindeer are actually all females.

Every time Mac walked past—which Riley suspected was far more times than necessary—he squeezed her arm or grazed a hand down her back, and Riley couldn’t help the smile curling her lips each time he did it.

After a while, Riley gathered the kids and read a picture book version of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Pausing to show her young, captivated audience the pictures, she flicked her gaze to Mac. He stood in the back of the room with his arms crossed in a very un-Santa-like manner, chatting softly with one of the pediatricians. The rainbow lights of the Christmas tree behind him cast him in a warm, pink glow.

The kid closest to her tugged on her coat, and Riley turned her attention to the girl. She was probably ten or so, with intense, dark eyes that probably never missed a thing. Including Riley’s wandering attention, apparently. “Are you checking out Santa?” she questioned.

Caught. Riley cleared her throat. “Um—” Giggles erupted throughout her audience. “So what if I am? He’s very handsome.”

The girl scrunched up her face. “Gross!” Riley joined in on the second wave of giggles before returning to the story.

Later, after the chaos of opening presents, the adults rounded up all the kids and settled in to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The hospital administrator set it up so the movie projected on an empty wall. Mac pulled up a pair of chairs behind the projector and motioned for Riley to sit. Lacing their fingers together, Mac leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for doing this with me.” His expression was raw and unguarded.

Riley squeezed his hand twice in response. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

They’d barely made it ten minutes into the movie when the shyest kid—a six-year-old boy wearing Spider-Man pajama pants who looked like a tiny version of Bozer—crawled into Riley’s lap. The boy didn’t say a word; he simply nuzzled his face into Riley’s shoulder and wrapped his tiny arms around her waist. Riley let go of Mac’s hand to pull the boy into her chest, where he fell asleep for the remainder of the movie.

Afterward, Riley carried the boy back to his room while Mac started to say goodbye to the other kids. They’d been there more than half the day, and for many of the kids, it was time for blood tests or scans or chemo. Or maybe just a nap.

Riley hugged the last kid goodbye with a bittersweet smile on her face. The little boy in her arms was so young, four or five at the most. Behind him, his mom mouthed, Thank you.

When the boy finally let go, Riley looked him square in the eye. "You be good, okay?" He giggled, nodding furiously before returning to his mom.

The boy and his mom walked away, leaving Riley and Mac alone in the waiting room. Riley stared after them. That had to be so hard, watching your kid have seizure after seizure and then spending days in the hospital, waiting for answers the doctors didn't have.

"Riles." Mac's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "You okay?"

She blinked. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that kid."

"I know," Mac sighed, rubbing his face. "He asked me if I could stop his seizures for Christmas."

Riley's heart clenched. "What did you say?"

"I told him I'd try my best."

Riley swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Without thinking, she drifted into Mac's embrace, hands finding purchase on his chest and resting her cheek on his shoulder. His arms circled her, pulling her tightly against him.

She couldn't string the right words together to describe how she was feeling. Sorrow, for the kid whose childhood was now destined to be filled with doctors and hospital trips. Empathy, for the single mom trying her best to remain positive for her kid's sake. Admiration, for the way Mac smiled reassuringly at the little boy despite the tears welling in his eyes. Riley settled for, "I love you." She kissed Mac's cheek.

Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, he said, "I love you too."

They stayed like that for a long time, only parting when Riley said, "Let's clean up and go home."

Remnants of wrapping paper and plastic packaging littered the floor—all that was left from the bag of presents they'd brought. Well, that and the glitter. The ungodly amount of glitter that was, to Riley's horror, everywhere.

She picked up a wad of half-crumpled wrapping paper, sending a flurry of gold glitter airborne. Most of it landed on her clothes. Great. She'd be finding those damn gold flecks for months.

Mac chuckled behind her. She whirled on him. "It's not funny!" she said with mock offence, sticking her tongue out at him.

But he wasn't looking at her face. His eyes tracked her every movement, lingering on the places where her off-white sweater dress hugged her curves beneath her long, red coat.

Riley made a show of brushing the glitter off her dress, starting from her knees and working upward, drawing Mac’s attention with her movement. When Mac's gaze finally reached her eyes, she winked before resuming not-so-innocently picking up wrapping paper. Riley kept her back to him, waiting for Mac to make the next move.

Hands locked on her waist. Mac tugged her closer, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. "I'd put myself on the naughty list for you."

Smirking, she replied, "Oh really." Riley glanced over her shoulder and had barely even realized Mac's face was still right there when his lips landed on hers, and he spun her to face him fully. The pile of wrapping paper she was holding fell to the ground at their feet, covering their boots in more glitter.

The kiss wasn't very good. Riley couldn't stop smiling, no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together enough to kiss him back instead of bursting out laughing. I'd put myself on the naughty list for you. He said that as if he were on the nice list in the first place. They broke way too many laws on a weekly basis for that to be true. Not to mention, Mac's non-consensual cell phone breaking alone was enough to put him on the naughty list for life.

"Are you just going to keep grinning like an idiot, or are you actually going to kiss me back?" he teased.

It took all of her concentration to pull off even the most chaste kiss. A little too eagerly for being in a hospital waiting room, Mac sucked on her lower lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, his hands sliding under her coat and caressing her sides.

Riley had just gotten it together enough to slip her own tongue in without getting a mouthful of teeth or fake beard when she heard a faint giggle. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the cutest little girl peeking around a Christmas tree.

“Santa, we have an audience,” she warned.

Mac pulled away, blushing faintly, but his hands lingered on Riley’s stomach for an extra second. He gestured for the little girl to come closer. Sheepishly, she rolled out from behind the tree. Tinsel covered every available inch of her wheelchair, and the wheels lit up when she rolled in a way that reminded Riley of the light-up sneakers that were popular when she was a teenager. Not that she'd actually owned a pair, of course.

Mac squatted in front of the girl, whose wild blonde curls were equally unruly as Riley's own hair. "Were you spying on us?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug.

Mac twisted to look at Riley. I like her. "What do you think, Mrs. Claus?" he asked. "Do spies get put on the naughty list?"

Yes. She winked. "I think this one can stay on the nice list. She managed to sneak up on Santa, after all. Very impressive."

The kid beamed. She had no idea.

"Yes," Mac said slowly, "very impressive." He turned back to the girl. "So, what do you want for Christmas?"

The girl listed a whole bunch of presents, claiming she wanted to give Santa options. Mac listened intently, nodding at all the right points.

Something warm bloomed in Riley's chest as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. To say Mac was good with kids would be an understatement. When a kid spoke to him, he always gave them his full, undivided attention and took every word very seriously. When a kid was being serious, Mac was serious, and when a kid was acting silly, Mac would be twice as silly. And as a result, he could crack even the shyest and grumpiest of kids, and, more importantly, they would trust him.

A thought popped into Riley's head. I want to have his babies. As if her body was reiterating what it already knew and her brain had just figured out, her hands unconsciously drifted to her abdomen.

The same spot Mac's hands hands had lingered a minute ago, she realized with a start. Did...did he want kids with her too?

Riley wanted kids—she wanted kids with Mac—but she also knew that neither of them were ready to give up their job. They couldn’t keep doing what they did with a kid in the world. After growing up with absentee parents, they’d never risk leaving their kid to grow up without one or both parents.

But when the time finally comes, when she and Mac are ready to trade in getting shot at and making stuff explode for stability and mundane normalcy, she won’t be able to wait any longer to start a family with him.

She waited until they were in the Jeep before broaching the subject of kids. Tentatively, she began, "What were you thinking about back there when you put your hands on my stomach?" The look on his face then said he was definitely thinking about something, but Riley didn't want to assume what.

Mac dodged her question. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did it."

Riley knew that was a white lie, but she didn't call him on it. He'd answer honestly in his own time. Since it was too big a subject to outright ask him, Riley took a more subtle route instead. “Do you see yourself having kids?”

His eyes widened in response. “You know I want kids.”

That wasn’t what she meant. Wanting them and actively reshaping your life in order to have them were completely different things. “Yeah, but do you see yourself settling down, getting a safe, normal job, and raising kids?” They’d vaguely talked about this before, long ago, but Riley suddenly needed to ask him again.

Mac was silent for a long time, staring out the front window. “Yeah, I do,” he finally said. “With the right person.” He glanced over at her, eyes softening.

Me too, Riley wanted to say, but she choked on the words. It took her a couple tries, and the words came out strangled, but she was pretty sure Mac understood. Neither of them needed to say it directly in order for the other to understand: I want to have kids with you.

Riley spent the rest of the drive fantasizing about the kid-filled Christmases in her future. She glanced down at the ring on her finger. First step, she thought. Get a real ring.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #christmas fic #established macriley au #macgyver fanfiction

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gh0stwriting · 4 years

Note

Hcs for bby boi Thomas, Michael, Jason, and wall child proposing to their s/o, but instead of an actual ring, For Brahms he uses a funyun like the man child he is please?

(wall child has me fucking rolling omg 😂 also yall really be knowing my type at this point and ill gladly write for these boys no matter how many asks i get for them)

THOMAS HEWITT

he tried to propose to you once with a severed finger that had a huge ring on it, but we don't talk about that. (Hoyt sold it when he found it)

the second time he tried to propose he kind of just handed you a metal washer with no explanation. you asked him what it was for and he showed you the matching one, a silver washer bent all kinds of ways to fit his finger and you realized what he was trying to say.

at first you were hesitant, you weren't sure if he was mentally developed enough to understand marriage. but nonetheless you slipped the washer onto your finger and he made a sort of giggling snort sound before carrying you into the house to show off his new fiancé.

Hoyt was pissed to say the least. He kept going on about how “the saw is family boy. you ain't leavin’ it behind.” and Thomas’ mood went from over the moon to looking like a kicked puppy in seconds.

you stood up to Hoyt for maybe the first time ever, telling him that if this is what Thomas really wanted, that he couldn't physically stop him, family or not. that seemed to strike a nerve though and Hoyt looked close to snapping at you. Thomas stepped between you though, recieving a blow to the shoulder which was surely meant for your face. Thomas was fine, but Hoyt sure as hell wasn't.

MICHAEL MYERS

(this is lowkey OOC but i feel like he might do this if he fully trusts and loves the person)

he's not wearing a wedding ring, no way. it’d probably fall off and he’d lose it and he just doesn't really see the point. marriage is really just a few thousand dollars and some papers anyways.

though he does want to show the extent of his love for you, and the fact that he wants to spend as long as he's able with you, so he leaves for quite a while. at first you're worried something happened, but then realized it's just Michael, he does this a lot, it's how he copes with emotions.

When he does come back however, he has many things with him, the most noticeable being a bouquet of flowers that he probably took off of a grave. then he pulls out a cheap looking BFF necklace, no doubt stolen as well and drops it into your hands.

the last thing he does takes you by surprise as its a day you never thought you'd live to see, he shows his devotion to you by reluctantly removing his mask, you being the only person besides Laurie to see his face as it is now; shaggy brown hair hanging over parts of his face, his blinded eye a milky blue color, the other cold but somehow vibrant. a litany of scars crossing over each other covering large parts of his neck and chest.

if this doesn't prove his love, nothing will. but somehow he mistook your look of shock and awe as fear and disgust and quickly started to replace his mask, your hand grabbing his wrist, stopping him. “michael, i-thank you for trusting me. if this is a proposal, the answer has always been yes.” you say with tears welling up in your eyes. you hug him and the second you let go, he rushes off to sulk somewhere, you overloaded his brain with emotions.

JASON VOORHEES

in his eyes, marriage is bad. His parents were married but got divorced when he was born and has hated the concept ever since. you came into his life and he found himself warming up to the subject but still wasn't completely comfortable with it.

but you trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his, and he wanted to make sure you never forget that. He wasn't aware of what normal proposal etiquette was but decided that whatever he did would be worth something.

he woke you up in the middle of the night to him dropping a few things on the bed and then tapping you to get your attention. You roll over and notice the weirdest object first, which seems to be some sort of skull. Maybe a coyote? It looked thoroughly cleaned at least. The only other item was his jacket, blood stains, cuts and all.

You confirmed with him that these things were for you before putting on his jacket. You went to examine the skull after, flipping it over to notice a carving in the underside of the jawbone, unsure if its a heart or an infinity symbol you look up at him, to which he points to your chest, signifying that it is, indeed, a heart.

See, he never proposed per se, but the commitment is there. Him giving you his jacket was a huge act of trust as he's worn it for years, and unlike Michael he’d never take off his mask if he even could.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

It was the day after a grocery delivery and you two were still sorting through the assortment of meals and snacks in the many boxes. As you two were putting away the last of the food he found something he’d never tried before, but he quickly put the package inside his shirt, much like a child would so you didn’t find out. Not like you could hear the crinkling of the bag over the music you had playing.

You turned around to ask him what he wanted for dinner when you saw the object poking out of the bottom of his shirt, raising your eyebrows in a silent question. To which he held the hem of his shirt and started to walk out of the room.

You repeatedly called his name and tried to get him to put the thing away, but he refused. You tried to grab his arm to stop him, but again he refused and ran to one of the openings in the walls, effectively stopping your pursuit as you didn't fully understand the paths yet.

With a roll of your eyes and a huff you went back to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, not expecting to see him again until he was either sick from whatever he managed to sneak or until you forced him to leave the walls for dinner.

But right as you were about to plate the food and call for your man-child of a boyfriend you heard his childlike voice call your name, making you jump and drop the hot food all over the floor. You turned around, prepared to scold him when you saw him on one knee with a funyun in his hand. “(y/n). Marry me?” was his simple request, using his regular voice so you knew he was serious. Of course you said yes, and scolded him later.

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Continues

Prologue

Summary: Jensen and Y/n take the plunge into their forever.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 5.3K+

Warnings: Language,

Author’s Note: Well, without further adieu, here she is! I’ve been so nervous to post this series because I wanted to make sure it lives up to all your expectations. Your feedback is gold, so please let me know what you think! xoxo Alex (Bold texts are Jensen, italicized are reader)

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The sunlight from the grand windows on the west wall of the hall was quickly being replaced by the soft glow of the lights above and the candles flickering on the table. Indistinct chatter filled the small space that the couple had reserved for their rehearsal dinner. The group’s bellies were full and the drinks were still flowing.

“You’re looking a bit tired there,” Jensen’s hand landed on his fiancée’s thigh, squeezing gently to get her to look at him.

“Mmm, I am, but I’m not ready to go,” she hummed, her eyes heavy with the events of the day.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s gonna be weird, you know, sleeping away from you. I just got used to you being home lately,” the woman shrugged, placing her hand on top of his. She traced a pattern with her finger over his knuckles, her gaze concentrated on her task. Their friends and family continued to chat excitedly around them as the two slipped away into their own world without ever leaving the table.

“I know. I’m not used to having a whole bed to myself, or someone not stealing my covers in the night,” Y/n gasped low, looking up at Jensen to find him smirking at her, her favorite dimples on display on the corners of his lips. The woman scowled at him and his ability to be so freaking cute as a grown man.

“You know,” a mischievous smile grew on her face as she turned his hand over and linked their fingers together. “We aren’t married yet, there is absolutely nothing stopping me from, I don’t know, just not showing up tomorrow.”

Jensen hummed, “Happy wife, happy life.” receiving the exact reaction out his fiancée that he had hoped for; a sharp smack to his shoulder.

“Ugh, you know how much I hate that saying.” Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at the way she rolled her eyes. His fiancée joined in on the laughter, only for it to be broken by a wide yawn.

“Alright, that’s enough for you, honey. You need to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Y/n frowned at his declaration but she knew there was no use in fighting him. She wasn’t lying when she said it would be weird to not have him in bed with her tonight. Her one hope was exhausting her body to the point of passing out the minute her head hit the pillow. So far, it was working, seeing as she wasn’t even sure that she could stand from her chair and make it up to her room.

Y/n blinked slowly as Jensen stood from his chair, reaching out to help her to her feet. “Alright, I think it’s time I put this one to bed if I want her to get out of up tomorrow.”

“Ah, such a kidder,” Y/n mocked as the crowd laughed and bid the couple goodnight. Jensen slipped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side as he took her to the elevator. The entrepreneur leaned into him as they rode up to her floor, her eyes fluttering closed as she basked in his scent while she still could. The steady drum of his heart lulled her into a place she so desperately wanted to be, but the shudder of the cart had her eyes flashing open too soon.

“Alright, here we go,” Y/n handed over her keycard to Jensen and he pushed open the door. He let go of his grip on her and urged her in.

“You coming in?” She turned once through the threshold, looking back at him still in the hall.

“Nice try,” He smiled, the action softening his features. “One night, babe. We can make it through, then it’s you and me forever.”

Her tongue rolled out over her lips as she leaned against the door. “Aw, that was an adorable thing to say, you know that?”

“As long as you don’t tell Jared, then we are safe.”

“Ahhh, I’ve heard the things he’s said to Gen so he really has no place to talk,” Y/n quirked an eyebrow, eliciting a similar response from the man standing outside her door.

“Wait—”

“Goodnight Ackles,” her voice trailed off in a soft melody as she closed the door, his muttered ‘son of a bitch’ the last thing she heard before he was gone.

She made quick work of her nightly routine before settling into the plush comforter of her hotel bed. Her body sank into the cool sheets, the exhaustion winning over her body easily.

The only thing was it didn’t last for her. Y/n soon found herself tossing and turning under the plush covers. The bed was too large by herself, and every time her hand landed on an empty bed instead of her fiancé, she was jolted awake. She let out a huff as she stared up at the dark ceiling. A small sliver of light appeared suddenly and she turned over to grab her phone.

Hey baby, I hope you aren’t awake like I am, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow.

Y/n smiled at the screen. Even after being together for almost two years, she kept finding more and more ways they were alike. What were the odds that both of them were lying awake in the middle of the night thinking of each other at the same time?

You’re out of luck. This bed is too big without you.

She shot him back a quick text before locking her phone and holding it against her chest. His reply took no time at all.

I know how you feel, believe me. Get some sleep, I’ll see you at the altar.

Y/n had to chuckle to herself.

The only thing coming to my mind now is stupidly cheesy, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I’ll be the one in white.

Hahaha, you’re right, that is cheesy. But I still love you.

You better.

Y/n put her phone back on the bedside table. Somehow, just talking to him and knowing he was up too made her feel better about sleeping alone. Maybe she should feel bad about smiling at him tossing and turning along without her, but right now she couldn’t care less because all it did was show her that she was making the right choice.

Y/n was out again within minutes.

****

When they say your wedding day goes by in a flash, they truly aren’t kidding. Y/n woke up more refreshed than she expected when her alarm went off in the morning. She was also far less anxious than she expected as she went about her usual morning routine. Coffee and yogurt were sent up to her room with a note from Jensen telling her he knew she would forget to eat unless he got her something, which had made her chuckle because he was right.

Her mother was there to pick her up and take her to the venue at noon. The older woman was quiet on the relatively short drive to the manor just outside Austin. Y/n knew it was only a matter of time until her mother was sobbing, so she was thankful for this time to relax and enjoy the sunshine.

When they finally arrived at The Grand Lady, there were few cars in the parking lot, most of them belong to her bridal party. The guys lucked out with being able to go out for lunch seeing as they didn’t need hours in a hair and makeup chair, a fact which she and Jensen disagreed on. She had insisted that she could do her own makeup and save some money, but he would not hear of her quote, working, unquote on her wedding day, so she went along with him and hired people to make her shine.

Genevieve, Mackenzie, and her high school friends Stella, Delilah, and Grace were already in the bridal suite when Y/n and her mother arrived. The champagne bottle from the mimosa bar was popped before she even had a chance to set her bag down. The young entrepreneur had to remind herself to take the drinks slowly, seeing as she was getting married later that evening, not that her bridesmaids held that same regard.

Before she knew it, it was nearing time to get into her dress. The photographer had already taken it from the bag earlier to photograph. Y/n stood staring up at the delicate material that glinted in the sunlight coming in the window. This was truly it. It was her wedding day, the day that she had given up on seeing a long time ago. If she thought about it too much, she was sure to ruin all the work that her crew had done on her face.

“Y/n/n,” Gen called her from across the room. Y/n spun back to look at the ladies enjoying themselves. “I’ve been tasked with handing over something special to the bride.”

Cheers came from the other women in the room, all eager to find out what exactly Jensen had decided to gift her with. Y/n watched as Gen pulled a decent-sized package out of the closet. It was wrapped in shining silver wrapping paper with a white bow wrapped around it. Her curiosity was piqued, seeing as the pair had not discussed a gift exchange, not that it had stopped her from purchasing a bespoke watch from a little shop in Detroit and having a message stitched into the leather strap. It was an easy choice seeing as her soon-to-be husband was obsessed with watches. The hard part was finding one he didn’t already own.

“This thing is huge,” she noted before quickly adding, “No one comment.”

All the girls stifled their laughs, watching her as she tore into the paper without care. She tossed the paper to the side, taking in the black and white sound waves embossed on the white background. There was black script in the lower-left corner that read ‘in a world we could call our own’.

“What’s the song?” Y/n didn’t recognize the lyric, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t heard the song before.

“On the back,” Stella called from her seat across the room. Y/n flipped the frame over in her hands, noticing the small square taped to the back. Setting the frame on the chair next to her, she broke the seal on the paper envelope. Inside was a simple CD, but on the front was a short message in Jensen’s familiar script that read ‘and it all came down to you, can’t wait to see you at the altar - Jensen.’

“But I don’t—” Her words were hushed as Gen handed over a portable CD player with headphones attached. Y/n turned the gray plastic over in her hand, knowing it had to be Jensen’s idea for her to listen to the disk in this way. Frankly, she was shocked that he didn’t find a way to put in on an eight-track and have Gen hand over a Walkman.

Y/n placed the disk in the player and put the headphones on before pressing play. The soft melody caught her attention immediately, her head bobbing gently along until Jensen’s voice filled her ears.

Listened to yesterday

Long before the way it has become

And it all came down to you

I don't really know the way

Played out stranger than it seemed

But what went down came true

Like an all day dream

It seemed saving her makeup was now just a pipe dream. She could feel the tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes. Gen was quick to bring her a tissue and Y/n tried her best to blot up the wetness without ruining everything.

Everybody was looking at her as the song came to an end and she pulled the headphones off her head. “He uh, he wrote me a song,” Y/n explained to her waiting friends. The room fell into collective awe.

“Okay, okay! Enough with my cheesy brother. You need to get in your dress like now and fix your makeup.” Mackenzie was laughing as she spoke, but Y/n caught the hint of water in her eyes as well. She was right, her brother was more than cheesy. It was something that she used to turn her nose up at, but somehow, he found a way to make it work that never seemed to fail.

“Right,” Y/n agreed, standing up from her seat and heading behind the partition to get into her dress. Her mother and Gen helped her into the heavy material and worked up the buttons along her back. She noticed her mother was tearing up again, much as she had on the day Y/n had said ‘yes to the dress.’

“Mom, come on now, Dad is gonna be in here any minute and I can’t have both of you in tears. I’ve already cried enough as it is.” Truth be told, she had been barely keeping it together since she received Jensen’s gift, and her family was not helping. She just had to keep it together until she was at the altar. Just half an hour longer.

****

Jensen finished fastening the watch around his wrist before turning it over and inspecting it once again. His bride had chosen well. It was unlike any other he had in his collection, but it suited him well, and of course, it matched his suit to a ‘T.’ He double-checked that the hands on the face were where they needed to be, the realization of the time hitting him in the gut.

“Hey, man. You good?” Jared’s voice broke him from his reverie. He tugged down the sleeves of his suit, fidgeting inside the snug outfit.

“Uh, I’m not sure how to answer that.” A nervous chuckle forced its way up his throat. Jared nodded at his friend.

“Been there, buddy.” Jared clapped his large hand on Jensen’s shoulder, squeezing his fingertips into the navy material. “But before I give you wise words of encouragement, I have to do my brotherly duty.”

“Duty?” Jensen murmured to himself as Jared cleared his throat.

“If you ever hurt my sister again, I will not be as forgiving. You’re here today because I trust you with her life and her heart. Don’t make me regret that.” Jared again squeezed Jensen’s shoulder for emphasis.

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re funny, Jare.” But Jared’s expression had remained unchanged. “Oh, you’re serious… Dude, you’ve already punched me once. Trust me, I get the picture.”

“Good, now that that’s settled, all you need to do is focus on Y/n. The rest of it will fall into place. You guys are crazy about each other, forget about all the rest.” Jared dropped his grip on his friend and straightened his boutonniere.

“Thank you. I do love her, more than anything.” The groom smiled to himself as he watched the hands on the clock tick down.

“Oh, and remember to take a second for just the two of you later. Go and experience things from afar.”

Jensen nodded to himself, repeating Jared’s line back to himself. “Just the two of us.”

“Alright, Jay. Shake it off, it’s time to go see your bride.”

****

Gen was trying her best to keep Odette occupied as they waited to walk down the aisle. The group of bridesmaids, the bride and her father all were huddled in the corner of the wrap-around porch, waiting for the music to begin playing.

Y/n had one arm already wrapped around her father’s, her bouquet in the other. Her lower lip was worried in her teeth as the music started from the band behind the altar. A jolt beside her had her snapping her head up to see her father smiling down at her.

“How are you doing over there?” He asked as her bridesmaids began to disappear one by one.

“I’ll be okay. Deep breaths, right?”

“Deep breaths. Come on, someone is waiting for you.” Her dad tightened his grip on her as they began moving. The old wood of the manor creaked as they made their way across it and down the steps. Y/n refused to look up until her feet were on the fabric aisle put together by the wedding planners. When she did finally look up, her eyes cast over her friends and family standing to watch her, looking for the one pair of green eyes that could ground her.

Jensen had to bite his tongue when his bride came around the corner, the lace she adorned more elegant than he had expected. Her hair fell in waves down her back and the light veil covered her face just enough to hide her blush from him, but it was when she looked up and lock eyes with him that everything else fell away. It was just like Jared had said, all that mattered at that moment was her and Jensen. Like that night back in Vancouver, when she smiled at him from her place in her father’s arms, his heart skipped a beat. It was that smile that did him in still to this day.

Y/n watched as Jensen’s face broke out into the widest grin she’d ever seen. He clasped his hands together as he lost himself in her. His reaction had her feeling more light than she had ever felt. This was the moment people talk about twenty years down the road when they recount their wedding day. That ‘first look’ feeling was one she was going to remember for the rest of her life.

“Gerald,” Jensen held out his hand to Y/n’s father, shaking it with a smile before Gerald turned back to his daughter and handed her over to her groom, but not before stealing a kiss to her cheek.

Jensen slipped her arm under his and pulled her close to his side. “Wow, Y/n. Just… wow,” he whispered to her as their officiant began the ceremony.

“You’re one to talk, handsome. That blue suit is killer,” she husked, faking a whistle below her breath. She paused for a second to glare at Jared clearing his throat when the crowd was asked if anyone objected to their marriage. She couldn’t be too mad at him though, considering the chuckles he got from the crowd. Jared was just being Jared.

“So, in their decision to make my life a little easier, Jensen and Y/n have decided to write their own vows, which they will share with you now.” Their officiant waved her hand to them, the couple turning to now face each other. Y/n handed her bouquet off to her matron of honor, Gen, who exchanged it for her written vows, before turning back and taking Jensen’s free hand in her own.

“Y/n, I don’t know if it’s stupid or cliche to start off with this, but I love you. I do, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being. I had all but given up on my chance to find someone and have a family, and then you came crashing into my life. It all came down to you, my all-day dream come true.”

“Y/n/n, you are a strong, beautiful, and bullheaded woman. You frustrate me, you challenge me and you make me a better man. I promise to love you forever, to carry you through the bad times and laugh with you in the good times. I promise to keep you safe in my arms no matter what life throws our way and to cherish every moment we have together. I promise forever.”

Jensen shoved his vows into his pocket as he finished, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight as he smiled down at her. For a moment, she let herself get lost in them until their officiant cleared her throat. The crowd chuckled as Y/n mumbled to herself to get a grip.

“I struggled a lot to put my feelings down into words. This damned piece of paper stared at me for weeks just mocking my brain for its lack of focus. But I soon realized it wasn’t because I couldn’t find the words, it was because there are no words. Jay, you are indescribable. You are everything I didn’t know that I needed before I met you. You always know how to make me laugh, what words to say when I don’t feel beautiful, and how to pick me up from the ground when I’ve fallen to my knees.”

“I vow to you to always be there when you need to speak and to share the silence when words aren’t needed. I vow to make sure you always smile from all my smart ass comments and to make sure you know how handsome you are. Most importantly, I vow to love you more and more with every passing day.”

Y/n was barely keeping it together as the two of them exchanged their rings and ‘I do’s’. She had fully expected the tears to be present ever since the pair had discussed writing their vows, but she never expected him to literally take her heart in his hands and squeeze it. Her heart had never been so full than at this moment.

“I think that about does it then, eh? By the power invested in me by the state of Texas and in front of God and all your loved ones, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jensen,” The crowd laughed as their officiant tilted her head towards Y/n, raising her brow. The couple joined in as Jensen lifted her veil over her head and pulled her to his chest, her hands snaking around his waist and her fingers clutching onto his jacket. Their lips met in the middle, a grin on both their faces. After everything, they were finally here, right where they both wanted to be: with each other.

“Family and friends, I am delighted to present to you for the first time, as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Jensen Ackles!”

Jensen pulled away from his wife before pecking her nose one last time. He took her hand in his own as Gen handed her back her bouquet. The pair of them ran back down the aisle as the band played “You Make My Dreams Come True” and their families cheered. As they reached the porch around the manor once again, the event coordinator of the hall guided them back inside to the study where the boys had gotten ready for the ceremony.

The room was mostly cleared of the groomsmen’s items when they entered. For now, it was their place to have a second alone before they needed to begin taking photographs. Y/n set her bouquet down on one of the tables, her other hand still in Jensen’s. He tugged her into his side again, smiling down at her, his lips turned up on one side.

“Hi, wife.”

“Hi, husband,” Y/n parroted his sentiment back to him, a chuckle on her tongue. “Are you gonna be disgustingly cheesy now?”

“It’s my wedding day, I think I’m entitled,” he nodded.

“Hmm, well good. I love it.”

“I knew it!” Jensen bit his lip as he caressed his fingers along her jaw. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes examining the expanse of her face.

“Jay,” Jensen raised his brow at her, signaling her to continue. “I love you. Thank you for marrying me.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He promised, lowering his lips to her own in a quick caress.

****

It didn’t take long for the photographs to be finished, though it was boring work. Y/n assumed she probably shouldn’t feel that way, but her face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much. In the midst of it all, they’d signed their marriage license, so she guessed that made it all worth it.

The day was flying by quicker than either of them expected. When people told her to pause and take in everything, she’d thought she’d prepared herself, but before she knew what was happening, they were seated at the sweetheart table across from the stage as Jared took the microphone for their before dinner toasts.

Feedback reverberated across the makeshift stage and about the yard that was set up for their reception. Jared winced before clearing his throat.

“Good evening, everybody, I’m Jared for all of you who don’t know. That beautiful woman over there is my baby sister and the handsome troll sitting next to her just happens to be my best friend, my brother from another mother. The two of them have come a long way since their first meeting, a day not unlike today. When Gen and I got hitched, I think they exchanged a total of five words that day. They were ships passing in the night then. It wasn’t until Y/n/n came to work with us on set that a series of events was set in motion that none of us expected. I won’t lie and say I was too happy when I first found out about their relationship, sorry Jensen,” Jared paused as the room chuckled, though outside of their immediate families, no one knew what he was talking about. “I know it took me a while to come around to the idea, but now that I’ve been able to watch the two of you grow together, and laugh together, and love each other, I realize I was being selfish. Y/n, there is no other man that I would trust more with your life and with your heart. I know that he’s always gonna be there to treat you right and pick you up when you’re down. I know this because I will find him if he doesn’t.” Jared waved off more laughs before continuing. “Alright, but in all honesty, I couldn’t be happier for the two of you and I can’t wait to watch you grow old together. I love you guys. To the Ackles!”

Jared held up the champagne flute into the air before the room took a drink. Gen followed Jared as matron of honor and Josh brought up the rear as best man. All three of them were skilled at pulling out laughs and tears. Dinner was served just after and once the plates were finally cleared, the sun was nearly fully set below the horizon.

The manor worked on bringing out the dessert table, a wide array of miniature pies, snickerdoodles, banana bread, pumpkin and sugar donuts, scones, a coffee bar, and lastly the wedding favors for their guests, a build-your-own candy apple bar. It was the perfect fall scene for their mid-November wedding.

Y/n and Jensen made their way through the crowd, hugging family and friends and thanking them for joining them on their special day. A good crowd had formed on the dance floor, and it seemed that everyone was enjoying themselves.

Miriam, Y/n’s great aunt on her father’s side, had pulled her into a long-winded conversation at her table. Y/n was perched in a seat across from her aunt, trying to stay invested in the conversation. To be honest, the bride wasn’t even sure what she was talking about anymore.

“Hey, Miriam.” Jensen’s voice broke her out of the little trance she had slipped into. He had a wide smile on his face as he knelt beside her aunt. “I know you ladies are having girl talk, but I was wondering if I could steal my wife for a minute?”

“Oh!” Miriam exclaimed, a delighted smile on her face. Y/n watched, a grin on her face as she watched her husband charm her away from that table. “Of course! Silly me. She’s yours now, to do anything with you please.”

“Okay, Aunt Miriam,” Y/n stood and went to kiss her aunt on the cheek. Jensen took her hand and began to guide her away.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Her aunt’s exclamation had a blush creeping up on her neck, and Y/n had to cover her eyes with her hand. The whole time Jensen was just laughing beside her.

Y/n was distracted by the small cheers from the people who heard her aunt that she didn’t notice her husband sneak a champagne bottle and a glass from a waiter on their way up to the house. She simply let him guide her up on the porch and over to a dimly lit corner that gave them a view of the entirety of their reception.

“What are we doing?” She asked him as he handed her the flute.

“We are taking a minute to ourselves, just to step back and soak up all that’s happened today,” Jensen explained as he filled the glass.

“Ah,” Y/n let out a breath as she took a sip from the glass. She handed it over to her husband who copied her action. “Isn’t that what our first dance was for?”

“Eh, everyone had their eyes on us then. This way, it’s just the two of us. We get to be on the outside looking in.” Jensen moved behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. His wife leaned into his embrace, enjoying the heat from his body as the night began to cool.

The couple shared half a bottle of champagne as they watched their guests enjoy themselves. Most of the crowd was huddled on the dance floor, shaking away their worries for the time being. Those that were left were smuggling treats from the dessert table.

It was an intriguing glimpse at a wedding from someone else’s perspective, and the couple was more than happy to just watch their loved ones enjoy themselves. After all, that’s what all a wedding was, a party, and people were supposed to have fun at parties; get rowdy and maybe a little drunk. The kids were carefree, shaking their butts to the melody that helped facilitate all the fun.

Jensen glanced down at his watch to check the time before kissing the underside of her jaw. “We have to go get changed now,” he whispered to her. Y/n hummed in response, both of them not wanting to break the bubble that they had put themselves in on the porch, but alas, they had a plane to catch, and therefore needed to get out of their nice clothes.

The honeymoon suite that came with the rental of the manor was going to be used by Jared and Gen that night. Y/n and Jensen planned to leave her dress and his suit for them to take home. It worked best for them that they whisked away on their honeymoon right away. Overnight flights to Europe worked best when it came to kicking jet lag in the ass.

So that was what they did. Jensen changed into jeans and a white tee and Y/n into leggings and a white tee. Out of all the stupid couple things people did on their wedding day, Y/n had opted for matching ‘going away’ outfits.

The couple triple checked that they had everything they needed as Jared found his way to them. He helped Jensen pack the car with their belongings and before they knew it, they were being seen off by their loved ones, a whirlwind of sparklers lighting their path to the car. The couple hugged their parents goodbye before slipping into the black sedan.

As the car whizzed down the dirt path towards the airport, the crowd that was left meandered back to where the bartender was calling ‘last call.’ On the outskirts of the property, a figure stepped back into the tree line, the shadows hiding the stranger from view. The man dropped the butt of his cigarette into the pile building on the ground, crushing it into the leaves of the forest with the toe of his shoe before disappearing into the night.

Part 1: The Conception

Forevers: @polina-93 @22sarah08 @callmekda @hobby27 @tranquility-or-chaos @dawnie1988 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @akshi8278 @superfanficnatural @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @winchest09 @katehuntington @flamencodiva @janicho88 @anathewierdo @ellewritesfix05 @mrsjenniferwinchester @jensengirl83 @lyarr24 @smol-and-grumpy

Continues: @traceyaudette @death-unbecomes-you @rebelemilu @colbyskoalas @ashleyrose0117 @zpandaqueen @stoneyggirl @parinarain @onethirstyunicorn @smoothdogsgirl @harryhook-lover @deanmonandnegansbitch @spnfamily-j2

My Forever tags as well as for this series are open. Just shoot me an ask to be added. If your url is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag you

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x plus sized reader #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles smut

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thatgirlsnotrightinthebrain · 3 years

Note

Feedee asks:

40,45

Anon, this is going to be a very long answer. I have tried answering this ask for you two times prior, and both times I made the mistake of doing it in my phone browser where my fingers have brushed my screen just so so that the page refreshed and deleted the entirety of my amazing answer I have learned from my mistakes, and I am writing my response in a note to copy/paste when I’m done.

40. Cutest feederism fantasy?

I like to think that I’m pretty easy to please. When it comes down to it, all I want is someone who loves me despite my weight, someone who tells me I’m pretty on a regular basis, and if they want to occasionally coax me into eating a family size package of Oreos, I wouldn’t complain. I’m not sure if the following is my “cutest” feederism fantasy, or even if I would want anything like it to happen in real life, but it is a fantasy I had when originally answering this question. Maybe with this being the third time I’m typing it out, it will stick.

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After a month or two of dating, when I start to know whether I like him or not, the guy I’m seeing invites me over to his place for the day to just hang out on his bed or sofa- watching Tv, movies, playing video games. Relaxed. Easy. When I arrive, he has an array of snacks ready for the day. He lays out a huge bowl of plain Ruffles between us. Since it’s still relatively early in our relationship, I graze, intent on only eating one serving of the chips. I don’t want to go crazy. He glances over at me every so often, between scenes of whatever is on the screen in front of us, and sees that I’m enjoying the chips, but that I only took a little bit. “You can have some more you know. I don’t really like those anyway... I prefer the sour cream and onion Lays, but I know you like Ruffles. Besides, you said you didn’t eat before coming over. Please have some more.” I contemplate. If I eat the rest of these chips in this bowl, I won’t have to eat again until later. So I finish the bowl, and the next snack comes out - chocolate chip mini muffins. I take one and he looks out the corner of his eye. “I really should have put these out first, huh?” He chuckles. “They’re more in line with breakfast. I know they’re your favorite, I couldn’t find any mixed packs with corn muffins in them too, so eat up! It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” So I end up eating all 12 mini muffins. This pattern of him not liking any of these snacks he bought (all my problematic faves) and knowing that I’m hungry, convincing me it’s okay to eat continues. I steadily eat my way through a family size bag of Crunchy Cheetos, a package of Double Dark Chocolate Milanos, a box of cheese-flavored Ritz Bits, a box of Entemann’s Chocolate covered donuts. Eventually he orders some actual food - some bacon cheeseburgers and a carnival sized bucket of fries (he knows they’re my absolute favorite actual non-snack food) and a two liter of Coca-Cola. Everything is so delicious, I just keep eating. Eventually he lays down on his side next to me, stuffed, with my hands cradling my belly. He presents dessert - Chocolate Chip Cookies, a family-sized package of Oreos, and a tall glass of milk. He knows they’re my favorite sweets, that I won’t be able to resist them. After he gently dips each cookie in the glass of milk, he brings cookie after cookie to my mouth while he caresses my tummy, kisses me all over, tells me I’m pretty, that I’m such a good eater. I’m so full, but it just tastes so good, he’s so handsome I can’t say no to that face, I don’t want to. I eat cookie after cookie until they’re all gone. He sees the guilty look on my face. “It’s alright. It’s not like you eat like this all the time. It’s a one time thing... You were hungry, so you ate. It’s okay to indulge and enjoy food every once in a while. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” The longer we go out, the more frequent days like this become - Once every few months becomes once a month, becomes once a week, becomes three times a week, becomes everyday once we move in together.

Two years later, when he proposes, I have ballooned. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been. The outfit I wore on our first date has not fit in a long while. Since I don’t want to look like a blimp in my white dress for the wedding, I decide to lose weight. He doesn’t argue, he respects my wishes. I try eating salads, but I cover them in cheese and fried chicken. When I decide to exercise, I’m pouring sweat and am out of breath in seconds. I can’t even lift my weight to do one push up on my knees. He assures me I’m beautiful the way I am and I don’t need to lose weight. “We can eat healthier and you’ll slim down.” He knows full well I’m too accustomed to eating junk, that I’ll just try and sneak the junk when he’s not around. And he’s right. Drive throughs are a must for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on weekdays when I work. I grab junk when shopping for healthy groceries on the weekend and eat it all in the car so he’s none the wiser. Except he knows and says nothing. He lets me indulge.

By the time we get married, I’m absolutely huge and I waddle down the aisle, footsteps heavy. There’s a rumor going around among our guests that I needed to reorder my dress three days ago two sizes larger than the one I put in to be altered a month ago. (It’s true.) I look like an enormous cupcake. The guests all whisper about how I blew up and became a beached whale behind my back, but they are nothing but kind to my face. My husband thought ahead - he knows I won’t eat much at the wedding because I feel guilty about my size, so he orders two cakes - one for our 200 guests, and one the same size for our wedding night. Since I’m far too fat to be lifted through the doorway, I waddle to the bedroom where he unzips my dress and I wiggle out of it, all of me continuing to jiggle after it’s off. He makes sure I lay down comfortably on the bed, bedsprings groaning under my weight. He proceeds to cut the second wedding cake into neat slices. Like that first day he invited me to his place, he lays on his side next to me, nothing but admiration visible on his face as he feeds slice after slice of cake into my round moon face. He lovingly rubs my belly and caresses me with kisses all over my body. “You’re absolutely stunning, Mrs. ([insert his last name here.] I love you.” When things get frisky, the bed frame collapses under (mostly) my weight. “It’s alright gorgeous. We’ll get a new one tomorrow. I intend to help you be comfortable with food, your body, and to help you indulge for the rest of forever.”

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45. Favorite chubby pet name?

Honestly, I don’t know if I would like being called any of them. I may be okay with “Piggy” since my parents used to call me one when they thought I ate too much. Maybe “Fatty” or “Fatass” but only in the context of teasing me about how chubby I am and making it clear how much you like it.

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flowerslut · 3 years

Photo

BONUS DAY: Quarantine Rated: T for language. Words: 9,064

A/N: My favorite prompt, “suddenly human” was somehow NOT chosen for Jalice week. So I took some liberties here by combining a shitload of prompts together. Brace yourselves.

WHUMPTOBER CROSSOVER—No. 13: OXYGEN MASK & No. 21: INFECTION

Alice and Jasper face immortality together.

I’LL JUST LAY HERE WITH YOU

Twenty-nine days ago they were celebrating.

Birthdays weren’t something they acknowledged often. After Bella had been with them for a decade, their newest vampire had firmly put her foot down. She’d barely tolerated them as a human, but as an immortal being she’d loathed the parties.

Thankfully, there was still Renesmee and her milestones to keep track of. Of course, she hadn’t changed much since her eighth birthday, but apparently even human-vampire hybrids weren’t immune to the desire for a Sweet Sixteen.

Jasper had never seen Alice so elated to have someone so willing to plan a celebration with her. And she and Rosalie had once spent three years planning one of Rose and Emmett’s more elaborate weddings.

It started with a vision.

Turning the knob on the stove, Jasper cut the heat, ignoring the way his throat burned at the aroma that was wafting through the kitchen. It had been embarrassing, having to listen to Carlisle and Bella give him step by step instructions on how to light the gas stove over the phone, but if Alice had witnessed him struggle in a passing vision, she neglected to mention it to him.

He checked his phone then, knowing that no messages awaited him, but still hoping for a notification nonetheless. Someone would be dropping off more supplies today, and he needed to know where exactly to go in order to receive them.

He couldn’t risk interacting with any of his family directly. Not until they figured out what was going on.

It started with a vision.

Jasper reached forward, grabbing the canister from the boiling water, and began to wipe it dry. He knew it was warm enough due to smell alone. He hadn’t once used the food thermometer they’d stuck in their last delivery. While Alice’s condition had worsened, it hadn’t gotten so bad that she’d be at risk of being burnt.

He eyed a bag on the kitchen table, and at the assortment of crazy straws poking against the plastic, and rolled his eyes as he exited the room. Leave it to Emmett to try to find something to joke about with the situation.

He’d been pissed at the bonus items during that particular delivery—surely Edward and Rosalie hadn’t known Emmett was sneaking some extras into the package—but it had made Alice crack a real, genuine smile.

And those were so hard to come by now.

It started with a vision.

Twenty nine days ago they’d been celebrating Renesmee’s birthday. That included balloons and streamers and cake and human food and humans and an assortment of emotion that, by the party’s conclusion, had given Jasper whiplash. The headache he had that day didn’t ebb until late that night. Alice had been too preoccupied with clean-up to notice.

And Jasper had been too preoccupied with his headache to notice when Alice’s emotions caused the climate of the house to take a nosedive.

Walking through room after room Jasper eventually reached the stairs and began to slowly climb, focusing hard on the low buzz of the equipment running upstairs. With every step his misery intensified until he was struggling to keep the emotion at bay. Whether it was a good thing or not, Alice was too out of it most days to be able to tell.

Still, he didn’t want to slip up and accidentally physically share his current emotions with her.

“Jazz?” He heard her voice call when he was halfway up the stairs. And when her panic struck him he cleared the rest of the staircase in an instant.

“I’m right here,” he spoke, the canister already resting on the nightstand as he reached out for her, hyperaware of all the wires as he maneuvered her into an embrace. “Just wanted to get you something to drink.” Pulling back he focused intently on her face. Her eyes hadn’t been golden in days, despite the regular meals he supplied her with. Instead, her eyes were slowly darkening, a brown amber color taking over.

Her sigh of relief sounded more like a rasp, and when her face scrunched up in pain, Jasper felt his entire being ache. Reaching forward he readjusted the oxygen tube on her face, resting his hand firmly against her cheek as he watched her squeeze her eyes tight and focus on taking a few long, even breaths.

She felt just slightly warmer than she had the day before. The temporal thermometer that lay within the nightstand was suddenly at the forefront of his mind. Another one of the tools Carlisle had armed him with in their first supply drop off. Jasper had refused to grab the device until someone (Rosalie) explicitly and unkindly asked him what her temperature was that day.

He didn’t want to think about how she was warming every day.

“Let’s sit you up,” Jasper spoke quietly as he moved, pulling her fragile body into a sitting position against the headboard, tucking the blankets snuggly around her as she blinked herself into awareness.

“How long was I out?” She rasped again, wincing as she shifted. Lifting a hand she scratched at her ear. The hair had grown infinitesimally over the past several weeks, but it was one of Alice’s biggest complaints. After living a hundred years with her hair the exact same, the instant it began to grow she’d panicked.

And Jasper had added another thing to the list of symptoms she was experiencing.

“Only a couple of hours,” he moved back toward the night stand, retrieving the canister. “This is the last of it,” he commented as she accepted the stainless steel canister with her bare hands. Barely a second later she was wincing, the container falling to the blankets that were lying across her lap.

Jasper had grabbed it and returned it to the table in an instant. “Alice!”

“I’m fine,” Alice hissed, holding her shaking hands to her chest “It’s not hot, I swear. Seriously,” then, she showed him her palms. They didn’t appear to look any different than usual, but still, Jasper was mortified. Maybe he should’ve been using the culinary thermometer after all… “Jasper. It’s fine,” she assured him between hurried breaths. “I’m not burnt or anything. It just really hurts to grip things today.”

“I’m sorry,” he still apologized quietly, knowing how much she hated hearing the words from him. “I didn’t know.”

“Another symptom for Carlisle,” she half-smiled, and Jasper felt his heart clench at the sight. Those smiles never reached her eyes.

Twenty-nine days ago Alice had been putting stringed lights back into storage containers when the first vision struck. Jasper had been distracted, up in his study, re-reading one of his many comfort books to try and curb the pain in his skull.

Jasper never felt Alice’s initial shock. What he felt was Edward’s powerful fear, and acute mortification.

By the time Jasper was in the living room, Alice was screaming.

Picking the canister back up, Jasper moved to sit back on the bed besides Alice. But when she saw what he was about to do she lifted up a hand, placing it against his arm. “Jazz, no. It’s fine. Give me a few minutes and I can do it myself.”

“I can help,” he insisted, his words quiet as he prepared to hold his breath and twist the canister open.

The human blood was a new addition to her diet. One that Carlisle had suggested after her body had rejected animal blood for the second time. She’d been wholly unable to hunt since the beginning, but she’d still been able to drink from whatever animal Jasper could grab that day.

When her teeth began to, quite literally, lose their edge, their family had been forced to improvise. Jasper didn’t know how they’d attained the initial bags of animal blood, but he was thankful for their efforts. He’d ruined the carpet in the den attempting to exsanguinate a deer, and had only salvaged less than a pint for her. After that, Carlisle had figured something out.

The first time she’d been sick—the animal blood violently expelling itself from her tiny body from the way it came, and ruining the couch in his study—was the first night she slept. Jasper called Carlisle, hysterical and screaming, thinking that whatever was happening had finally killed her.

She’d woken up less than ten minutes later, disoriented but alive. That had been two weeks ago, and Jasper hadn’t left her side for more than ten minutes since, even for a supply pickup.

“You said it’s the last of it,” Alice spoke, her frown deepening when Jasper fully screwed the lid off the bottle, “does that mean it’s a supply day?”

He nodded as he pressed the edge of the container to her mouth and tipped it back, trying hard to look away as she gulped down the blood. His thirst had been killing him the past few days, but he knew that he’d rather starve than deprive Alice of even one drop of sustenance.

“Her body is trying to replenish itself,” Carlisle theorized to him just the day before over the phone, “try and pay attention to what blood type she favors. It might become useful information.”

Her eyes hadn’t changed to red the way he’d expected them to—the way he’d hoped—but instead, every day, they darkened slightly, more orange-ish brown than anything.

It was an almost-human color.

Twenty-nine days ago they’d been celebrating. And then Jasper was in the living room and Alice was shrieking, demanding that everyone get out and that no one come near her and that they get out now and leave.

“Alice,” Jasper had flickered to her side, terrified at the emotions coming from her. But she’d pushed him away so hard he put a dent in the wall, the wood and plaster crumbling beneath his back.

“No!” She’d sobbed, “Stay away! Edward! Get them out! Explain later! Go, now!”

But even Edward, who knew what she was thinking and who had seen what she’d seen, couldn’t bring his feet to move. “Alice, hold on a second.”

Jasper felt Alice’s emotions blank and then come back full-force; it was the tell-tale sign of another vision stealing her attention. And when Edward’s terror trumped Alice’s, Jasper found himself staring helplessly at the redhead.

“Go,” the boy turned toward the family and barked the orders, “everyone get out, now.”

“What is it?” Jasper demanded, his frustration mounting. He trusted Alice with his life, but he’d never felt a heartbreaking fear like this from her before. “What’s going on?”

“Jasper,” Edward yelled as Esme and Bella—who had come to see what the commotion was about—ran off with Renesmee. Emmett and Carlisle were on a hunt and wouldn’t be back for a few hours. “I’ll explain later, we have to go.”

But when Jasper tried to approach Alice again—he’d leave as long as she was by his side—she screamed at him, backing away like a frightened animal.

“NO! Don’t come near me!”

“Jasper! Stop! Let’s go!”

“I’m not leaving until someone tells me what’s going on!” His heart broke as Alice looked at him with fear in her eyes. But as an empath, he knew she wasn’t afraid of him as much as she was afraid at what she’d seen.

“Jazz, please, please, please don’t come near me,” Alice begged as he slowly approached anyways. And the closer he got to Alice the farther Edward inched toward the back doors, his terror permeating the room.

“Alice, please…”

“You have to go before it’s too late.”

“Jasper, stand back!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Jasper spoke directly to Alice, barely an arms-length away now. “Whatever is going on, I’m not leaving you here.” Whether the Volturi were coming for her, or whether some freak natural disaster was set to swallow their neighborhood whole, he didn’t care. He’d rather die than leave Alice to face whatever it was that she and Edward were so terrified of currently.

“I can’t let you,” she shook her head firmly, her expression full of devastation as she backed up against the far wall. “Jasper, please, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Sick?”

And when thick, silver liquid began to stream down Alice’s face, venom pooling in her eyes, Jasper’s entire world shifted.

By the time Jasper reached forward, wiping the venom from her face and confirming that yes, this was real, and no, this was not good, Edward had vanished, running after their family into the dead of night.

“No,” Alice sobbed, shaking her head as Jasper gathered her up in his arms, “No, not you, too. I don’t want you to die, too.”

“Please hunt today,” Alice spoke after Jasper recapped the now-empty canister. “Please. When you go to get the next shipment. I can’t stand to see you like this.” Reaching out she rested her hand against his cheek, her thumb brushing the bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes as she gazed at him with love and concern.

Jasper shook his head. “Carlisle is sending some more animal blood with the next one, that way I don’t have to leave the house.”

“That’s not going to be enough to sustain you,” Alice frowned, pulling her hand back into her lap. Jasper didn’t miss the way she was lightly massaging her palm. Even the slight affections she showed him pained her now.

“I’ll make it work.”

“How are you supposed to take care of me if you can’t take care of yourself?” The words were gentle, but they struck Jasper like a physical blow.

“I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

Alice sighed, and then there was a pause. “I can’t see them.”

He stared at her blankly, waiting for her too elaborate. “Who?”

“Anyone. I can’t see Carlisle or Esme. Or Bella or,” her voice cracked, “or anyone. I’m even struggling to see you now.”

Jasper nodded calmly, not wanting any of his reactions to worry her further. He would have a moment to himself soon enough. “And your dreams?”

“They’re getting a little less fuzzy. But Jazz,” and her fear in that moment was very real, “if I can’t pull visions up the way I used to, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

And truthfully, he didn’t know what they were going to do either.

They didn’t know what was eating away at Alice or what sickness she was afflicted with. They don’t know what caused it or how it had struck her. The only thing they knew—and only because of Alice’s first few visions—was that there was a chance it was contagious, and it would very likely kill her.

He’d kissed her through her tears after the third day, when she finally confessed that she very likely had sentenced him to death just with her proximity alone.

But Jasper would walk through the fires of hell day in and day out if it meant he wouldn’t be leaving Alice to face this sickness alone. Whether he lived or died he didn’t care. And if Alice did die… well… he could only hope it was as contagious as they feared…

Leaning forward he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Alice tilted her head up, lifting a hand to hold his face still so she could plant her own kiss firmly on his lips.

“I love you,” he spoke softly against her lips before kissing her again, “and even if the visions go, you’ll still have me.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, and when Jasper focused back on her expression, he realized her eyes were closed tight again. Setting the empty canister on the bed-side table, Jasper was careful as he climbed into the bed to lie alongside her. He didn’t want to unplug a single wire.

The electrocardiogram wasn’t registering anything—as it shouldn’t; Alice’s heart had been still for a century now—but Carlisle wanted her hooked up to the device regardless.

“Just in case,” the other man had said over the phone as Jasper had sorted through that delivery. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but if she continues to display more symptoms like this, she may be human before the new year.”

Jasper pushed the memory from his mind as he pulled Alice close, allowing her to snuggle closely, still wrapped tightly in layers of blankets. Even with the thermostat on 80, Alice shivered day in and out.

The wetness that dampened the collar of his shirt made his heart ache.

They remained like that, lying next to one another as Alice’s oxygen concentrator hummed. Jasper hated how he just knew she was warmer. Not as warm as humans were, but even through the layers separating them he could feel the warmth of her body.

She wasn’t indestructible anymore, and Jasper didn’t know how to handle that. Even with her body pressed tight against his, he worried. What if one day he kissed her and hurt her? Or if he squeezed her hand to comfort her and broke her fingers?

He could finally feel some measure of empathy for Edward while he’d been dating Bella all those years ago. The fear of hurting her was prominent in his every move.

Her cardiovascular system was still in limbo, and even as her body warmed and her cheeks slowly filled with color after every meal, her heart was still not beating. Against all odds though, her lungs were operating normally. No longer could Alice simply sit, not thinking about how her lungs didn’t require oxygen unless she needed to speak.

The day that symptom presented itself, she’d gasped for hours, uncomfortable and panicking. Jasper had been on the phone with Carlisle, desperate for guidance, and in hours they’d delivered the necessary equipment.

Hooking up the machine and wrapping the oxygen tube around his wife’s delicate face had made Jasper feel insane. As if this wasn’t real, and he was hallucinating this.

It had felt like the beginning of the end.

Eventually, he pressed a kiss to her head and left the room with the promise to return quickly.

He answered his buzzing phone as he flitted down the stairs.

“I’m on my way.” He spoke without looking to see who it was.

“Carlisle wants you to bring the empty oxygen canisters.”

It was Edward. Jasper shook his head at the request. “I have no way of cleaning them. And even if I do sanitize them I don’t want to risk it.”

Whatever it was that was warming Alice and that he potentially carried, Jasper didn’t want it transferring to any of his family.

“Just bring them. We can leave them to sit for a couple of weeks and then one of us will bring them back.” Edward commented.

Jasper sighed, already half-way out the front door, before turning back to the kitchen. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled impatiently into the phone. The tanks were unnecessary now that Alice was on a concentrator. Jasper thought it was a stupid risk but he’d been low on patience for days now and wasn’t about to argue now.

Grabbing a single empty tank he turned back and was out the door in an instant.

“Where are you?” Jasper spoke into the receiver.

“At the end of the driveway.”

Jasper paused at that, his feet grinding to a halt in the grass. He was suddenly reminded of the last time he’d met up one of them at the end of the driveway, two and a half weeks prior. “You better be alone.” It was dangerous enough for him to interact with any of his family members even at a distance, but whenever they showed up in groups it ignited his anger.

As far as Carlisle was aware, everyone else was either asymptomatic or simply wasn’t sick like Alice. But Jasper wasn’t about to be the one that passed… this on to their family.

“I am,” Edward snapped back, as if Jasper’s words, and not just his ability, could inspire a quick jump to irritation. “I couldn’t exactly carry everything in this shipment. Forgive me for bringing a car.”

Jasper hung up the phone then and made off quickly toward the end of their long driveway. It was a quick run, but Jasper was looking forward to getting this exchange over with. Edward was already wasting precious seconds by requesting an old oxygen tank. He wasn’t about to waste anymore time arguing with the younger vampire.

He saw the car before he saw Edward. It was a deep green color with a matte finish. Jasper could tell just by looking at it that this must’ve been the pet project Rosalie had taken up after they’d left for their Baltimore house back further east.

“She needs anything to focus on that’s not this,” Emmett’s words, like always, lacked proper tact, but while Jasper had glared at his brother over the FaceTime call, Alice had nodded understandably.

A car like this would surely stick out like a sore thumb in Martinsburg.

When the car door opened, Edward’s voice rang out. “She’s already moved on to another one. This one is going in storage after this drop off.”

Jasper didn’t nod, but he did watch carefully as his brother began to quietly empty the contents of the trunk of the car onto the pavement. A few large crates, and some smaller paper bags. When Jasper inhaled deeply, he furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Food?”

Edward closed the trunk and turned back toward Jasper, his expression grim. “Carlisle thinks it might help.”

“Help how?” It didn’t even matter that Jasper didn’t know the first damn thing about making and preparing human food. And it was irrelevant that oftentimes just the smell of human food left Jasper in a foul mood. What mattered was that having to feed his wife human food felt like another insane task he’d been given, and he didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to just nod and go along with it all.

“I’m sure you can guess.” Even though they were standing quite far apart—at least ten meters—Jasper could clearly see the frustrated furrow of Edward’s brow. Jasper knew he hadn’t been the most pleasant person to interact with over the past month—it was one of the reasons Rosalie elected to tinker in her garage instead of sit on calls or volunteer for supply drop-offs, and it was why Esme had done one, and only one.

But Jasper wasn’t looking to snap at anyone today. He simply wanted to get what he needed (although today’s delivery would take a couple of trips) and go back home to his ailing wife.

“Are her visions still wavering?”

Jasper forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. Looking away from Edward, he instead stared at the grocery bags piled beside the crates. “They’re nearly gone. She can only see me while awake, and others when she sleeps.”

Edward nodded, and Jasper hated how he knew the boy was digging through his thoughts, collecting images of Alice’s deteriorating, weakening body, and hearing the very real doubts Jasper had currently. Jasper gestured to the tank he was holding. “What do you want me to do with this? I’m not giving it to you.”

“Just toss it over there,” he gestured vaguely to a patch of bushes beside the driveway. “I or Emmett or whoever will pick it up in a couple of weeks.”

Jasper tossed the heavy item to the side without a second glance, his eyes still trained on the supplies. “Is there…?”

“Human and animal blood, yes.” Edward tapped the crate in the front with a foot.

Jasper nodded, swallowing the venom that pooled in his mouth, knowing that he’d be able to drink soon. When surprise and curiosity pulsated off of the boy, Jasper finally met his eyes. “What?”

“You seem fine.” Edward observed with half of a shrug. “I mean, physically. There’s a chance this actually isn’t contagious—”

“Stop,” Now. Jasper would turn and go straight back to the house without another word if Edward kept it up. With his fury just hiding beneath the surface, Jasper thought pointedly. Alice knew her visions would fail. Alice knew you guys would want to come help. But as long as we have those few, early visions of hers we need to be careful. I can handle things over here. When Carlisle finishes analyzing her venom and finds actual fucking answers, let me know. Until they, stay put. I’m fine, and I’m handling things. “Don’t you dare put yourselves in danger. Not until we figure this out.”

The two stared at each other for a few long seconds before Jasper felt himself start to get antsy. He’d only been away from the house for barely more than five minutes, but the more time passed the more afraid he was that Alice would fall asleep and wake again, scared and disoriented, with him nowhere in sight.

“I’ll go,” Edward finally nodded toward the house as he walked back toward the driver’s side and opened the door. “Please text Carlisle her temperature when you get back. And yesterday’s summary, too. Please, Jasper. We’re doing our best.”

And with that, he climbed into the car, started the quiet engine, and pulled off. Jasper waited until the car pulled around a bend in the distance, a thick patch of trees obscuring the vehicle from sight before he ran forward and grabbed the first crate, and in seconds he was rushing back toward the house.

He was still several hundred meters from the house when the sound of hacking reached his ears. Jasper nearly dropped the crate to the ground as he rushed through the front door and flickered up the stairs and into Alice’s bedroom, only to find her crumbled in a heap on the floor, wheezing and coughing.

“Hey, hey,” he swept her up into his arms quickly, wondering why on Earth she’d decided to pluck all the electrodes off and find herself a spot on the floor, far from her oxygen. But before he could ask what she was doing, he felt the dampness that covered her thin flannel pajamas and his heart broke.

Her gasping came from her attempts at crying without her oxygen tube. Jasper maneuvered her back onto the bed—being aware to avoid the wet spot in the center of the bedding—and placed the tube around her head, shushing her.

Two hours, one bath, and a change of bedding later, Alice was fast asleep in the bed, her hand limply clinging to Jasper’s as he typed a long text with one hand.

Things are worse, he began the text. I don’t know what to do.

It started with a vision.

On day thirty-two, Alice ate her first human meal she could ever recall. It wasn’t much; a thin soup that he’d unpacked and warmed from the last shipment. She sipped it slowly, getting some of it down her front. It was hard, she admitted quietly to Jasper, to use a spoon when all she had ever known was biting down on flesh and sucking down blood with force.

She’d managed to eat a single cracker before breaking down in tears, broken up over the very fact that it didn’t taste entirely repulsive to her anymore.

On day thirty-four, Jasper picked up another shipment. Emmett was in a somber mood as he dropped the small delivery off. Groceries for Alice, mainly.

“Tell me you have any news at all.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow at that, watching from a distance as his adopted brother shuffled and frowned. Sadness never suited Emmett, who was one of the brightest personalities Jasper had ever known; the guy had radiated positivity ever since the former-solder had known him.

“I don’t.”

Emmett shrugged at that, and Jasper hated how the taller man’s mood dampened further at those words. “Well, they always say no news is good news.”

Jasper met his sad golden gaze with a severe one of his own. “If I had good news we wouldn’t be doing this, Emmett.”

On day thirty-five, while Jasper read aloud to her, Alice accidentally scratched herself. Much like her hair, her nails were also beginning to grow at a snail’s pace. Along with that, they were more brittle than she was used to. While reaching over and adjusting the zipper to Jasper’s jacket she’d broken a nail, chipping the edge slightly. Then, she’d reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her head, scratching the now-delicate skin on her face.

It didn’t bleed, but Jasper could still smell the blood, resting idly beneath the surface.

On day thirty-seven they finally sat down and acknowledged what was happening. Jasper refused to say the word ‘human’ but Alice spoke it with a sad resignation, knowing that her body was somehow de-petrifying. “I don’t know if I’ll survive,” she whispered to him as he held her closely, tracing soothing shapes against her back. “In some visions it all ends here, in this bed. In others I can see myself all warm and pink, but the visions don’t go much farther than that, no matter what I do.

“I’m almost positive that I die, Jazz.” She whispered into the silent room. It remained silent for a while after that conversation, until Alice quietly informed Jasper that she needed to use the restroom, and he carried her out of the room, his mind still miles away.

On day forty-one, Alice’s temperature spiked. She slept seventeen hours that day, shivering for most of it, and crying out occasionally, with visions now only plaguing her in her sleep. Jasper held the thermometer against her head and when it registered 96.1 he threw the device, smashing it to pieces against the far wall of the bedroom. Alice didn’t budge.

On day forty-two, Alice woke up, her memory foggy. “Mom?” She called out, sitting up disoriented before Jasper could plant himself in her line of sight. When she flinched at the sight of him, gasping loudly, her shock smacked Jasper across the face. It took several long seconds for her to calm herself, recognition registering to Jasper before it showed on her face. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, hand against her chest as she struggled to regulate her breathing. “I’m sorry Jasper.”

On day forty-three Alice kissed him, harder than she’d kissed him in over a month. It was when her hands found the first button on his shirt that he stopped her, her name only a warning on his lips.

“Please,” she whispered as she kissed her way down his neck, her hands finding a different button as she pressed herself against him, “Jasper, please. I don’t know when we’ll ever be able to again.”

On day forty-three Alice and Jasper spent the entire day in bed. They’d pause in their lovemaking periodically for Alice to use the restroom, or eat a meal, or take a nap, and then resume in between. Jasper was used to handling her with care, but now it truly felt like his wife was made of glass. He was as careful as he dared, knowing that the second he hurt her in his passion would be the end of their physical relationship as far as either of them knew it.

It was early in the morning when Alice kissed him firmly and pulled away with a wince. “I think I need to stop,” and something akin to perspiration was beginning to gather on her forehead, her growing hair sticking to it firmly, “I’m… aching.”

And then, that was that.

On day forty-five she woke up with wide-eyes and was immediately unresponsive. Jasper spent several horrifically long minutes talking to her, checking her vitals, gently massaging and tapping her shoulders and limbs, trying to get her to come back to him, to speak, to do anything other than lie there, stare, and breathe.

He was seconds away from giving up and sending another hysterical phone call Carlisle’s way when she blinked twice and lifted her hand up, blindly reaching toward him.

“Alice, Alice, oh thank God,” Jasper pressed her warm hand against his cheek, inhaling slowly in order to collect himself and prevent his ability from affecting her. “It’s okay, it’s…”

But when Alice forced her eyes to look at him—warm, dark brown eyes—Jasper froze as he felt her wipe wetness from his cheeks.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered as he jerked back, his hands wiping the venom from his face with a panic.

For two days, Jasper’s gift was hard to control. Meaning that now, to his complete and utter dismay, Alice was just as miserable as he was.

It wasn’t that he cared about being a vampire. Sure, the power it supplied him with to protect Alice and his family was something he wouldn’t trade for anything, and with Alice slowly reverting back into a human he felt comforted that at the very least he could keep her safe.

But how was he supposed to protect her from all the dangers that were out there when he, too, would be human in time?

Forty-seven days after their family ran and they barricaded themselves in the house, confined to their West Virginia property, Alice broke.

“I wanted you to run,” she sobbed with all her might, yanking wires and throwing anything she could get her hands on across the room. “I wanted you to go with them. I didn’t want you to die, too. It’s my fault this is happening, it’s all my fault.”

She wouldn’t let Jasper anywhere near her that day. Even when she slept, her emotions were a turbulent storm, making it difficult for Jasper to even sit at her bedside while she tossed and turned and shivered.

On day forty-eight Alice spent the day apologizing profusely. For everything and anything under the sun. Jasper simply shook his head, kissed away her tears, and held her close. All while assuring her that she had nothing to apologize for.

It wasn’t her fault they were dying, after all.

On day fifty-eight, Jasper had a sobering phone call with Carlisle and Edward.

“I reached out to Aro,” and Carlisle didn’t even pause in his sentence when Jasper hissed ferociously, “to see if he could provide any help, or any answers.”

“If anyone wants Alice alive as much as we do, it’s Aro, Jasper. Stop,” Edward spoke up loudly. And although the boy couldn’t hear Jasper’s thoughts he had decades of knowledge of his inner-thought process to know precisely where this conversation was heading. “It wasn’t anything we wanted to do, with Alice as weak as she is—”

“She said so herself,” Carlisle chimed in, not giving Jasper time to verbalize a response, “she doesn’t think she’ll make it out of this. And with you sick, too, we aren’t left with many other options.”

“The Volturi have far more resources than we could ever dream of having,” Edward spoke. “If this is something that’s ever been documented before, they’ll be able to find it.”

“But as far as Aro is aware, he’s never heard of anything like this happening before. Especially something that can be contracted by other vampires, too. We’re all in the dark here.”

Jasper refused to update them on his own state that day. It was bad enough that Alice had gone behind his back—quite literally—and texted Carlisle that Jasper’s first symptoms had begun to materialize the other day, but he didn’t want anyone’s attention on him. Alice was the priority. Alice would always be the priority, and Jasper refused to give any information to his family on his own state entirely.

But still, he knew that Alice was very likely texting Esme right now while he listened to Edward and Carlisle prattle on about their research and findings, and about how ultimately, they’d come up with no solutions.

If Alice died, Jasper knew he wouldn’t have to wait for this sickness to kill him in order to join her.

And with this thought it was as if Edward was truly there, in person. “Jasper. Hang in there. We’re going to figure something out,” the boy insisted after a length of silence had fallen across the line. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

On day sixty, she fell asleep and didn’t wake up.

Jasper sat by her bedside and waited. After the first day, he called Carlisle, only for Esme to pick up the phone and ask him what was wrong. The sound of her voice, so caring and full of love, caused him to finally break down. He found himself crying venomous tears for nearly an hour as he listened to her soothing words.

“The best thing you can do is stay with her,” she said eventually. “Talk to her maybe. If its anything like our transformations, she can likely hear you. Tell her you love her, and stay close.”

So that’s what he did. For the entirety of that second day, when he wasn’t on the phone with a member of their family, he sat at her bedside and talked. About her. About their relationship. About how devastated he was that this illness had struck her. He reminisced out loud about their first meeting, his many regrets, and about how even though now human blood had been introduced back into his diet (his body had begun to reject animal blood days ago) it felt completely and utterly ridiculous that it was what had driven him to madness time and time again.

He talked about how much he loved her. About how she was everything to him. The reason for his attempts at interacting with the public, the reason he abstained from human blood in the first place, and the reason he consistently pushed through his thirst. She was the reason he’d stopped hating his appearance, scars still prominent on every inch of his skin. She was the reason he’d given peace a chance, and the reason he now had a family to call his own.

She’d given him everything beyond what he could have ever hoped for in this cursed afterlife of his, and he told her such as she lay there, the only movement coming from her chest slowly and steadily rising and falling. He talked more that day than he’d spoken in a long, long time.

“I suppose all that ‘playing human’ should’ve helped us out better for this, huh?” He spoke out loud into an empty room sometime after midnight on the second day. “You’d think it would’ve prepared us for something crazy like this, instead of sending us to the brink of hopelessness.”

On the third day, Alice’s temperature skyrocketed, registering a fever that Jasper could do nothing to break. He cycled through damp rags, always keeping a cool, fresh one pressed against the burning skin of her forehead, being careful not to bump any of the wires, old and new.

Carlisle had to talk him through the insertion of the IV the night before. Now that her body required human food and water, Carlisle explained that it was vital in keeping her healthy and alive. Still, it had felt alien to poke at her skinny, fragile arm, looking around for a vein that hadn’t pumped blood in over a hundred years.

Eventually he placed it somewhere Carlisle—who’d been video called to assist—approved, but even still, Alice did not budge.

On the third day, Jasper climbed into bed with her and carefully pulled her close to him. His own temperature wasn’t as cool as it once was, but he hoped that even in her unconscious state it would help to soothe her somewhat. He closed his eyes and focused hard on her slow, even breaths, combined with the low buzz of her oxygen concentrator.

And in minutes Jasper was asleep for the first time since the nineteenth century.

He woke up with a start, mind immediately aware of Alice’s prone form beside him as he moved himself up and out of the bed. His entire body was shaking as his mind caught up with what was happening. His entire head felt foggy but despite not having slept in well over a century he knew that something had woken him up.

It started with a vision.

On day sixty-three Alice’s heart began to beat.

It was a slow, steady rhythm. With one hand Jasper quickly dialed Carlisle and with another he reached out, resting his fingers against her wrist as he counted the beats. Feeling a pulse flutter beneath his fingers didn’t help to combat the dizziness Jasper was still fighting, but he knew that he had to pay close attention. Alice’s life—Alice with her beating heart and blood-filled cheeks and her fragile skin and bones—now hung in the balance.

“It’s beating,” he spoke in lieu of a greeting, “her heart. It just started back up. About,” he focused for a few seconds, “seventeen beats per minute. She still isn’t awake, but she… there’s a pulse.”

“Oh my—hold on; Grandpa!” A familiar voice yelled in the background of the call, and Jasper’s dizziness increased as he realized Renesmee had answered Carlisle’s phone. “Mom! Aunt Rosie! Where’s Grandpa! It’s an emergency! Uncle Jasper says—”

“What’s going on?” Rosalie was on the phone immediately, and Jasper had to close his eyes and rest his head against the side of the bed as he focused, forcing himself to concentrate on counting Alice’s heart beats. “Jasper?”

“Her heart is beating, Rose,” he spoke miserably. “Not fast. And she’s not awake.”

“Ness is getting Carlisle now,” Jasper could hear how it felt like suddenly Rosalie was moving around quickly. “What’s her respiratory rate?”

Jasper looked up then, eyeing the silent machines with confusion. Horror fell over him when he realized that not only were they silent, not even registering Alice’s slow pulse, but they were completely shut off. It wasn’t something he’d noticed before he fell asleep. He’d been too preoccupied with fussing over her unconsciousness and babbling on about nothing to notice.

There was no way he’d unplugged anything, on accident or even on purpose. In fact, the last time he’d recalled the bright numbers and words being lit on either of the machines was—

“I hate that beeping,” Alice had commented the day before she’d lost consciousness, “it’s so disturbing. Can’t we set it up to only alarm when things are working, instead of when they’re not?”

In an instant he’d rounded the bed and lifted the chords attached to the machines, finding them unplugged from the wall. In seconds they were plugged back in and Jasper was quickly examining Alice, ensuring that everything was hooked up properly.

At the sound of Rosalie still demanding things through the phone that he’d abandoned on the bed, Jasper reached out and pressed the speaker button. “She unplugged everything. I just—give me a minute.”

And the instant the machines began to register her vitals, the alarms began to blare.

“Her blood pressure isn’t going to register normally, but you have to pay attention to her heart and respiratory rates. If she’s human now you can’t let either of them drop down below what they are now. Do you hear me Jasper? Jasper!”

“I hear you,” he spoke miserably as he watched Alice’s chest rise and fall.

“The instant they begin to dip you say something. Now, whatever you do now you’re not going to get off this phone, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, feeling the sting of tears begin to pull to the surface, “I won’t.”

Then, there was shuffling in the background and Carlisle was on the line. “I heard the news. Just stay on the line Jasper. Is your thirst manageable?”

“I’m not going to fucking hurt her,” he snapped, his nerves wound up so tightly that he couldn’t even hold the words back before they were being spat. “Forget me, Carlisle, how do I keep her alive?”

“Keep her heart beating, and if anything at all changes, you say something. Now, go over her vitals for me please.”

The next hour felt like the longest period of time Jasper could recall in his entire existence. He swore that the minutes ticked by like hours. He didn’t touch the phone once. It sat just where he left it on the edge of the bed, and sat at Alice’s side, listening and watching her with an unstoppable focus. Of course he registered the sound of his family talking, even if he wasn’t registering their words half of the time. Knowing that they were connected was enough to calm him to the point where he could apply his single-minded concentration fully to Alice.

He would do damn near everything he could to keep her alive, her visions be damned.

At some point he acknowledged that her IV bag had been empty for a few hours, which prompted a nearly-ten minute long argument in which Rosalie was demanding—and Carlisle was pleading—for him to leave Alice for a few seconds and go into the next room and retrieve a new one. Eventually he gave in, but only after Rosalie yelled, “Don’t be fucking stupid, get it so she doesn’t die and throw your tantrum later.”

(No matter how angry it made him, deep down he knew she was right.)

“Alice,” he whispered to her as he reached out and caressed her warm face, “how did this happen?” But the only signs of life from her were the slight rise-and-fall of her chest and the beeping of the electrocardiograph. And that was exactly what they were now: signs of life.

Jasper himself had been ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that was beginning to plague him whenever he went more than a few seconds without taking a breath. After his first symptoms had appeared he had started forcing himself to breathe normally, timing his breaths along with Alice’s without her noticing. Practicing for the day when his respiratory system would start acting like a human’s again.

He couldn’t even waste time thinking about what it meant to be human again. He couldn’t care about his warming body or the fact that he was weakening more and more every day. The only thing that mattered was that Alice made it out of this alive. Everything else was an afterthought. It was all for her.

Jasper didn’t realize his phone had died until Alice’s started ringing. He almost ignored it until he realized it was Carlisle’s number, and when he looked toward his own phone, and the blank, empty screen, he felt foolish as he reached forward and plucked Alice’s phone from her side.

He quickly muttered an apology and an explanation before placing the phone back down on the bed, speaker activated so he could go back to ignoring that device, too. A part of him knew that he should’ve grabbed one of the chargers that was just barely out of arm’s reach, but he didn’t dare move too far from Alice’s side.

He held her hand firmly in his, and waited.

“How is she?” Carlisle asked the question the second that the tempo of one of her monitors changed.

“Twenty beats per minute. Her breathing is…”

There was a beat of silence where Jasper stared from Alice’s prone body to the face of the screens on the machines hooked up to her. Something wasn’t right.

And then Alice’s respiratory rate took a nose-dive, alarms started blaring, and all hell broke loose.

There was a flurry of panic on the other side of the phone while Jasper stood fully, hovering helplessly over Alice’s body. This was it, he knew instantly even without ever seeing the vision himself. This was what Alice had foreseen. Her body, pink and fragile and human, slowly deteriorating in this very bed in this very room.

Alice had been wrong. She hadn’t cursed Jasper to his own fate by transferring whatever illness was de-petrifying their stone bodies. The curse itself lay in the fact that Jasper had been foreseen to watch the deterioration and death of the woman he loved more than anything else in the universe.

She had only ever apologized to him for getting him sick, as if that was something that was her fault. As if that were worse than this.

Rosalie’s voice broke through the yelling on the other side.

“Jasper! Listen to me! Keep her breathing.”

He’d watched and read every piece of instruction material Carlisle and Edward had sent his way, so he knew exactly what to do. But performing rescue breathing and watching it be done were two entirely different things. Having to force air into Alice’s lungs was the most agonizing thing he’d done in months.

Please don’t die, please don’t die, he thought the phrase over and over again as he focused on counting through each breath, being careful to only give her lungs the air they needed and not a bit more. It was after about a minute when he pulled back and actually looked at her, when he began to panic. The color that had been so steadily restored to her face was slowly fading away.

“She’s turning blue,” he shouted at the phone before gently tilting her head back again, plugging her nose, and giving a few more slow breaths, “Carlisle!”

There was chaos across the line and for a moment Jasper was afraid that the call had dropped as silence hung in the air. Then, what sounded like someone picking up a fallen phone. “We’re almost there, just hold on,” Esme’s voice spoke quickly.

That’s when the noises behind her began to make sense. The low pur of a car’s engine, the tell-tale sound of a vehicle speeding down the road. Jasper didn’t know how he’d missed the signs.

“No,” he pleaded desperately when he realized what that meant. “You’ll die.”

“No we won’t, sweetheart.” The smile in her voice nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Focus on Alice. It’ll all be okay.”

But for several long agonizing minutes he forced air into Alice’s weak lungs, and the alarms still blared. And when her already-weak pulse began to drop, he was beginning to think he’d failed. That he wouldn’t be able to do it. That Alice would be dead and it was all because he couldn’t protect her and—

The noise of glass shattering registered with his senses just as he was mid-breath, his mouth placed around Alice’s as he futilely attempted to bring her back. Hands were on his shoulders and when he was pulled away firmly he could only look up and shudder with relief over the sight of Carlisle and Rosalie working over Alice’s tiny, fragile body.

“I’ve got you man,” it was Emmett, “it’s going to be okay now.”

Jasper shook his head as he stumbled. But Emmett’s arms wrapped were around him from behind and he was pulling the blond backward far enough to give Carlisle and Rosalie space.

“You can’t,” Jasper protested weakly, feeling the tears that he’d been keeping at bay finally begin to spill over, “Alice didn’t want you to come.”

Emmett gave him a good shake, still not releasing him. “Well, too damn bad. Come on.”

Jasper didn’t have the strength to fight him as he was dragged from the room. He was sure that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to. Each day he’d grown weaker and weaker as more and more symptoms presented themselves. But when Emmett tried to force him down the stairs Jasper dug his feet into the carpet as hard as he could. (The fact that it didn’t force the wood to buckle beneath his feet was enough evidence of his own illness.)

“I can’t be far, please, Em.”

The sound of tires screeching to a stop outside of the house bought both of their attention toward the foyer, and when Esme burst through the front door, flickering up the stairs before stopping in front of the men, Jasper felt his knees begin to shake.

They’d surely all die now, too. Carlisle and Rosalie, who were hard at work trying to hook Alice up to whatever new device they’d jumped out of the car to sprint to the house. And Emmett and Esme, who were looking at him as if he were the one made of glass, and the one that was seconds away from shattering.

He wasn’t the one who needed putting back together.

“You’ll die,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion as Esme reached up and placed her hands on his face, her own expression absolutely broken at the sight of him. “You’re all going to get sick now, too.”

When Esme smiled up at him, he felt his knees buckle. Thankfully, Emmett’s arms still trapping him like a cage kept him standing. “Alice made her choice in trying to keep us safe. Now, we’re making our choice. We aren’t going to leave you two to suffer alone anymore.”

“Carlisle and Rose are going to do whatever they can, man.” Emmett tightened his grip, perhaps sensing that he was the only thing keeping Jasper from hitting the floor.

A loud noise caused their heads to turn back toward Alice’s room and suddenly, there was calm. The only noises now were from the machines that were beeping calmly. And just under all of it, they could all hear the noise of a heartbeat, steady and strong.

“It’s going to be okay,” Esme whispered again when Jasper’s tears started anew. Slowly, Emmett released his grip, lowering Jasper to the ground where Esme wrapped her arms around him. “She’ll be alright. We’ve got you now. It’s alright.”

And the sound of that steady heartbeat was all Jasper could focus on as he buried his face against Esme’s shoulder and cried.

It started with a vision. And now they were past it, and Alice was still alive.

Eventually they helped him walk back into the bedroom, and when he climbed into bed beside Alice—his warm, pink, human wife—they simply let him.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before grabbing her hand in his and closing his eyes. There would be time to discuss things with his family later, and to acknowledge the weight of what had happened tonight and what had been done. But for now, he laid beside Alice, and Jasper slept.

#jaliceweek20 #Alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fanfiction #jalice fanfiction #the twilight saga #this is my FAVORITE from this week even if it is what? almost two weeks later??#who cares my parents came to town and now the US it attempting to remove a fascist from office #my priorities have been SCATTERED lads

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thecassadilla · 3 years

Text

Perfection

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 2,175/AO3

Summary: After months of anticipation and preparation, Anna and Kristoff welcome their baby.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone!! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 6 - Purple! This fic is a loose follow up to my day 2 fic, Thankful, and my day 3 fic, Preparations. It can also be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy!!!

Also, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read my fics this week! I’m so thankful for all of the support I received and I really enjoyed reading/looking at what everyone else contributed!

There were two things that became evident early on in their relationship and carried over through the years; the first, was that one of Anna’s favorite colors was purple. She liked all colors, really, but purple was special to her and many of her clothes consisted of purple fabric in various shades, ranging from lilac to violet. And of course, Kristoff was happy to oblige when she requested purple elements in their bedroom - specifically, a plum comforter set and matching valances.

The second was that she had a minor online shopping addiction. It shouldn’t have been surprising to him when a package arrived at their house in her name despite the fact that he didn’t know what the contents of the package were. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy and it was getting more and more difficult for her to get around, so her habit picked up as she ordered baby and postpartum supplies. She spent most of her days lounging on the couch with her swollen feet and ankles elevated on the ottoman in front of her, and her wedding ring hanging from a delicate, silver chain around her neck, as her fingers had swelled up as well.

“Anna, you got a package,” Kristoff said, as he entered the living room.

“Ooh, gimme!” she exclaimed, extending her arms and flexing and extending her fingers a few times.

He handed her the box and she eagerly began tearing at the tape. “What’d you order?”

“You’ll see,” she answered in a sing-song voice.

He sat down next to her and watched as she jutted her tongue out, struggling to rip open the box. “You want some help?”

“I’ve got it.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her stubbornness. She finally managed to pull out the contents of the box, ripped the plastic off the first garment, and held it up for him to see; it was a light purple robe. “That’s pretty.”

“It’s for after the baby is born,” she explained. “So I can be comfortable in the hospital but still look put together when we take pictures and people stop by to visit. It’ll be good for nursing, too, because it crosses over in the front.”

“Good idea.”

“And then, I got matching swaddles and hats for the baby. Grey if it’s a boy, and white with purple flowers if it’s a girl.” She held up the plastic packages so he could get a look at them. “I’m debating only bringing the grey one, though, because I’m sure it’s a boy.”

“You won’t be sure until the baby’s out.”

“I know, but I have the strongest gut feeling that it’s a boy. I can’t explain it, it’s like there’s a voice in my head screaming ‘boy!’”

“A couple of months ago you were sure it was a girl,” he reminded her. “You should bring both.”

“I will,” she agreed. “Do you have a gut feeling?”

“Not really. I flip-flop everyday. Today I’ve been imagining a girl, but the past few days I’ve been thinking that it’s a boy.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” she remarked. She tore the plastic off of the last two packages before handing one of the blankets to him. “Here, feel how soft it is.”

He rubbed it between his hands. “That’s really soft, what type of material is it?”

“I can’t remember.” She took her feet off the ottoman and scooted to the edge of the couch, preparing to push herself up.

“Woah, what are you doing?”

“I have to wash all of this stuff so it’s ready for when we go to the hospital.”

“I’m more than capable of doing a load of laundry. Give ‘em to me.”

She narrowed her eyes, but obliged, handing him the blankets and her robe before crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned back into the cushions. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.”

“You’re extremely pregnant and swollen. You’re supposed to be keeping your legs elevated.”

“I’ll never go into labor if you won’t let me move around.”

“We already went for our walk today,” he reminded her. “Doctors’ orders were to elevate your feet, drink more water, and avoid being outdoors for long periods of time now that it’s hot out.”

“You know, I love that you’re really attentive and that you care so much, but sometimes I wish you were a teeny bit less attentive so I could get away with more.”

He chuckled. “You’ve gotten away with plenty. Besides, you only have four weeks left, maybe less.”

“Or more. God, what am I gonna do if this kid decides not to come out?”

“The good news is that the baby has to come out, sooner or later.”

“My doctor won’t induce me until I’m a week past due and I don’t know if I can last that long. This baby has got to be so squished in here.”

“I’m sure the baby is nice and comfy. Just a little bit longer.”

“But I’m already so big,” she moaned, throwing her head back. “If I get past forty weeks, you’ll have to stick a ‘wide load’ sticker on my a*s and take me to the hospital in a forklift.”

“You always did have a flair for the dramatics,” he smirked. “I know that you feel uncomfortable, but you look great and a forklift is completely unnecessary.”

“I’m ready to be done being pregnant.”

“Soon,” he promised. “You’re in the home stretch.”

“Tell him to come out,” she begged. “He listens to you.”

“Baby will come out when baby is ready to come out. There’s nothing that I can say or do that will change that.”

“Well, there is one thing you can do…”

He smiled knowingly and stood up. “I think that’s my cue to go start this load of laundry.”

“You got me into it, and you can get me out of it!” she called after him, and when he ignored her, she blathered on. “Oh, come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that! You know as well as I do that the baby isn’t going to come out until he’s ready regardless of what we do.”

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“It’s a girl!” the doctor yelled before placing the tiny, screaming newborn on Anna’s chest.

“Oh my god, it’s a girl,” she breathed, tears cascading down her cheeks. She shakily touched the baby for the first time as the nurses worked on cleaning her off, and squeezed Kristoff’s hand with her free hand as she murmured, “She’s so beautiful.”

“You did amazing, honey,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “She’s perfect.”

“And she’s so tiny,” she blubbered. “I’m already so in love with her.”

Just a little while later, they had settled into the peace and quiet of the recovery room. They hadn’t had any guests yet, and were spending quality time as a family of three.

“I’m so glad I brought the floral swaddle,” Anna commented, staring down at the perfect, little baby in her arms. The newborn was looking up at her through squinted, dark blue eyes. “I was so convinced she was a boy.”

“She needs a name,” Kristoff remarked.

“I know, but it has to be perfect,” she said, running her fingers over the baby’s wispy, blonde hair.

“Did you have something in mind?”

“I made a list of names on my phone a while back, but I don’t know if any of them will suit her.”

“Let me see,” he said, and she handed him her phone. He found the list relatively easily, and began reading off names to her. “How about Violet?”

She shook her head. “No, she’s not a Violet.”

“Emma?”

“No, it sounds too much like my sister’s name.”

The process continued as he made his way through the list, until a name close to the bottom caught his eye. “Here’s one that I really like - Grace.”

“Grace,” she echoed, with a small nod. “I think that’s her name.”

“You think?” he chuckled.

“You have to look at her and see if she’s a Grace.” She shifted in the bed and held her out for him.

He took the baby in his arms and smiled down at her; in his opinion, she was the spitting image of Anna, minus the hair color and freckles. “She’s a Grace.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.”

“And we can call her Gracie,” Anna said, pushing her lower lip out into a pout. “I love it.”

“Me too. Do you want her back now?”

“I’ve been hogging her this entire time and you’ve been so patient, it’s your turn now.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a small smile. He’d had the opportunity to hold her earlier in the day and he’d taken it, but he didn’t want to deprive Anna of any time with her. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and admired their perfect baby.

“I can’t believe she was so tiny and I was so huge,” she laughed. “Only seven pounds and two ounces.”

“You were all baby, though. She had nowhere to go but outwards, I guess.”

“I told you she was squished in there. She must be so happy that she can stretch out now.”

“You must be happy that she came early, huh? Only a week early, but still.”

“Happy is not the right word - thrilled is more like it. I was worried that she wouldn’t be born until the second week of June. I don’t know if I would’ve survived an extra week or two.”

“You’re very strong,” he commended her. “Stronger than you think. If you had to endure another two weeks, you would’ve.”

“You’re right, but I would’ve complained a lot,” she giggled.

“That’s okay, I can’t imagine that growing a human is comfortable.”

“It was so worth it, though. We got the world’s most beautiful baby out of it.”

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A few days later, when they were settled in at home, the doorbell rang. Kristoff had gone to answer it, while Anna glanced down at the infant in her arms, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that she was still content. It’d been a rough couple of days for all of them; Anna and Kristoff were both equally lacking sleep, with dark circles appearing under their eyes, and she was desperate for a shower, certain she smelled like spit-up. None of that mattered, though, because the baby was happy and of course, adorable as ever in a purple cotton jumpsuit.

“Who was that?” Anna asked when Kristoff appeared in the living room.

“It was just a delivery,” he assured her.

“Oh, I thought it was Elsa. She’s supposed to be on her way,” she said before furrowing her eyebrows. “Did I order something and forget about it? Is the mommy brain already getting to me?”

“No, it was something I ordered.”

“Oh, okay.” She shifted Grace from the crook of her arm and rested the baby’s face against the burp cloth on the uppermost part of her chest, by her shoulder, and gently patted her back.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Sure.”

He produced a small purple box tied with a white ribbon and handed it to her. “Good, because it’s for you.”

She could feel the tears forming in her eyes at the sight of it. “You got me a present?”

He nodded. “Mmhmm.”

She placed her opposite hand on Grace’s back, and jiggled the ribbon with her free hand to get it undone. When it finally came away from the box, she popped the top off and inside was a rectangular, silver pendant with Grace’s name engraved on it, in addition to a tiny emerald, her birthstone. “This is so beautiful.”

“It’s a push present,” he explained.

“Isn’t the baby enough of a present?”

“Yeah, well, you had to carry her around inside of you for nine months and then push her out, so I think you deserve a little something extra. And now that your ring fits on your finger again, you can put it on your necklace.”

“You’re the sweetest,” she sniffled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Please come closer so I can kiss you.” He obliged, scooting down a few inches and pressing a soft, warm kiss to her lips. “Thank you for my present, Kristoff. And thank you for the adorable baby.”

“I can’t take the credit on that one,” he laughed. “You did all of the hard work.”

“All of the hard work was worth it to have her here, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She re-positioned the newborn, once again cradling her in her arms. “Would you mind unclasping my necklace and putting the pendant on? I’d love to wear it now.”

“Of course,” he said, and she leaned forward slightly, careful not to disturb the baby. He unclasped the necklace, slid the pendant on, and then draped it back over her neck. “There.”

She placed her free hand over the smooth metal. “It’s perfect.”

#kristannaweek2020 #kristanna week 2020 #kristanna #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

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