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cowboyb1ues · 3 years

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Happy birthday

I’m turning twenty today so to cope with the existential crisis I wrote this. It’s really just another self indulgent piece to make myself feel better lol.

A small fic about Mason going above and beyond to celebrate his girlfriend’s birthday.

Mason Mount x fem!reader (2.5k)

My masterlist :)

The sound of the creaking floorboards was what slowly pulled you from your sleep, eyes blurry and bones heavy. The early morning sun was breaking in through the curtains and was painting the bed in golden rays, the white bedding almost shimmering in the light.

You turned your head and moved your hand up so you could rest it on your boyfriend’s chest but your eyebrows furrowed when your hand fell to land against the barren mattress instead. When you opened your eyes properly you noticed how his side of the bed was empty, bed sheets messy after his departure and his phone was missing from his bedside table where it would normally be charging.

You sat up and stretched your arms in a stretch as you let out a small yawn. You reached over to the side to grab your phone but didn’t get the chance to tap the screen before the bedroom door opened slowly and Mason entered.

His eyes were focussed on the wooden tray he was carrying in his hands and his sock covered feet were taking slow steps towards the bed.

You remained sitting on the bed but kept silent so you didn’t startle him and his deep concentration. You could feel the smile tugging on the corners of your lips at how sweet he looked carrying the tray that seemed to be decked out with all the breakfast food you could ever imagine.

When he got closer to the bed he finally glanced up and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you sitting up beneath the covers. His heart melted at the sight of your sleep flushed cheeks, messy hair and one of his old training shirts falling loosely over your shoulders.

“You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” he said from where he stood at the bottom of the bed.

You giggled softly while taking in his soft morning look. His hair was fluffy and messy, eyes still a little bleary and he was wearing one of his old Nike hoodies and a pair of joggers along with an old pair of socks.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and moved to lean back against the headboard when he moved around to your side of the bed.

He placed the tray on the bedside table before taking a seat on the soft mattress. “You should be” he said, placing a hand near your hip so he could lean further into you from his position, “I had a grand plan of waking you up with a birthday song and everything.”

You shook your head at his antics and lifted one of your hands to softly hold his freshly shaven cheek. “Maybe it’s for the best,” you teased him and jumped slightly when he pinched the bare skin of your hip where the shirt had ridden up slightly.

“I’ll have you know that I’m infamous for my amazing singing abilities,” he said and leaned in closer to you so that your noses were almost touching.

“Sure honey,” you bumped your nose against his and caressed his soft cheek with your thumb.

“Happy birthday my love,” he mumbled before leaning in to give you your first kiss of the day. The hand he wasn’t using to keep himself upright landed on the back of your head to keep you in place for your birthday celebration.

You finally pulled back when you felt his tongue prod at your bottom lip, his hand still holding you close to him.

“Hey,” he dragged the word out when you denied him another kiss by turning so his lips landed on your warm cheek. “I’m trying to give you your present here.”

You pressed a small kiss to his chin before mumbling, “not with morning breath you’re not.”

He rolled his honey eyes before removing himself from where he had practically glued himself to your front. He gave your bare thigh a gentle clap before he turned and carefully grabbed the full tray. He placed it carefully on your lap and you looked down at it in disbelief.

You’re not sure how long he’s been awake but based on the stack of food you guessed it's been awhile. There was a stack of pancakes, toast, three different kinds of eggs, two croissants and some fruit. There was a cup of tea on the side and another cup with what looked like orange juice in it.

You glanced up at him to see him throw you a sheepish smile before he carefully crawled over to his side of the bed so he could sit next to you.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you mumbled softly before carefully turning to kiss his cheek.

He closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips against his skin and the way your nose bumped his cheekbone. When you pulled away it was his turn to press a kiss to your temple, his nose burying itself in your hair as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo that still lingered from the night before.

“I know,” he said and shuffled closer to you so that he could throw his arm over your shoulders. “But it’s not everyday it’s your girlfriend’s birthday.”

You leaned your head against his shoulders while lifting a piece of fruit up to his lips. He opened his mouth and pressed a small kips to the tips of your fingers when you pulled away in silent thanks.

“You have to eat this with me though,” you mumbled as you tore off a small piece of the croissant, “I’ll never be able to finish all of this by myself.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he hummed when you lifted a small piece of the cake up to his mouth once more.

“Is it orange juice?” you questioned as you lifted the cup with the mysterious drink up to your lips.

You took a small sip before he could answer and raised your eyebrows in surprise when you tasted the bubbles.

“I tried to make a mimosa,” he explained and raked a hand over his hair making it stick up in every direction, the sight making you smile softly, “but I couldn’t find the champagne flutes.”

You hummed at his explanation and sat the cup back on the tray before using the fork that he had placed on there to cut off a piece of the pancake stack.

You stayed in bed for God knows how long, just sharing gentle words and soft glances. The mountain of food was disappearing little by little in between syrup and champagne sweet kisses.

When both of you couldn’t eat anymore he took the tray from your lap and instructed you to remain in bed while he took it down to the kitchen. You used the chance to finally check your phone and smiled to yourself at the sweet birthday wishes from your friends and family, as well as a couple of messages from Mason’s parents and siblings.

You were in the midst of replying to Mason’s mum when he entered the room again, this time with a couple of presents in his arms.

“Before you can yell at me,” he started as he saw you open your mouth to say something, “they are not all from me. My parents got you something and wanted you to have it today and not on Saturday.”

You sighed in defeat and slumped back against the headboard as he clambered on top of the bed before dropping the presents on top of the duvet.

You looked from the pile to Mason, shaking your head because you explicitly told him to not get you anything extravagant or expensive, let alone a mountain of presents. But it seemed that he had worked himself around that.

“This one is from Summer,” he said as picked out a cylinder-shaped present from the bundle.

You took it from his hands and carefully unwrapped it, smiling to yourself at the amount of tape Jaz no doubt had used so the wrapping would stay in place. When you finally peeled the wrapping away you smiled softly to yourself at the drawing Summer had made. There were two adult stick figures drawn and a small one in the middle. You felt Mason shift around so that he could see the drawing as well and you looked up to see a smile similar to the one on your lips painted on his mouth.

You looked back down at the drawing and traced your fingers over the writing Jaz had added. ‘Happiest birthday to the World’s Best Auntie! All the love, Summer xx’ You traced the stick figures with your eyes and laughed a bit at the one that was supposed the be Mason; a mess of brown on top of the head and decked out in a blue outfit that was no doubt supposed to be the Chelsea uniform. Summer had made sure that you were wearing her favourite dress of yours in the picture, but your hair was almost as messy as Mason’s.

“This is going on the fridge,” you said and handed him the drawing so that he could put it on his bedside table.

“She fucked up my hair,” he laughed softly while looking at the drawing himself before turning to put it down.

“I think I like it better like that to be honest,” you shrugged teasingly and yelped slightly when he dragged you over to him so you were sat between his spread legs.

“Shut up,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck where he buried his face and gently bit your skin.

With his face still buried he picked out another present and handed it to you, “this is from my mum and dad.”

You sighed softly before opening it, “why didn’t you tell them that they didn’t need to get me anything?”

“You know they wouldn’t listen,” he said as he looked on from over your shoulder as you unwrapped the present, “they’re just as bad as me.”

You smiled softly to yourself when you saw the small square jewelry box and opened it to find a gold necklace with a small pearl pendant.

“Wow,” you mumbled softly to yourself and lifted the box so you could get a closer look.

“It’s the right one, right?” Mason asked softly and you felt his smile against your skin when you nodded your head softly. “They asked what you would like and I wasn’t sure if it was this one or the other one you showed me.”

You turned your head softly to where his head was resting on your left shoulder and lifted your left hand to cup his cheek. You pressed a multitude of small kisses to his cheek. He bent his neck and pressed a small kiss to your shoulder before turning his head so he could give you the softest of kisses.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips and knocked your nose against his before kissing him again, “so much.”

He simply hummed and tried to pry his way into your mouth, and tightened the grip he had on your waist when you allowed his tongue to dance slowly with yours.

“I love you more,” he said when you slowly pulled away from him.

“I love you most,” you teased him before you turned back to the necklace in your hand. You were sure you heard him mumbling a soft ‘not possible’ into your hair when you pulled the gold chain out of its confinement.

He took it carefully out of your hands and draped your hair over one of your shoulders so he could put it on you. You laughed softly as you heard him swear softly as he struggled with the small clasp. “Fucking finally,” he sighed when the necklace fell into place.

“Thank you,” you lifted his hand up and pressed a kiss against his knuckles before he picked out another gift from the dwindling bundle.

“This one is from me,” he mumbled shyly into your ear as you slowly unwrapped his present.

You smiled to yourself when you saw it was one of the books that you had told him about a good while back. You closed your eyes in adoration for the fact that he had somehow remembered your spiel about that specific book.

“Open it,” he said softly and you furrowed your eyebrows slightly as you opened the cover and was met with the usual blank first page. But instead you saw a scribble in Mason’s familiar messy handwriting: ‘Happy birthday sweetheart, I love you to the moon and back and I can’t wait for you to read this to me before bed, as well as the many other books we will read for the rest of our lives. I’m yours, always. Mason xx’

You could feel your tears building up in your eyes as you read over the heartfelt note once more. It was only when you brushed over the words with your finger that you felt something on the page behind it. You turned the page to see a photobooth picture the two of you had taken some time ago.

You pulled it out and scanned over the four pictures that he had laminated so nothing would happen to it. You had taken the pictures at a friend’s party a while back and you smiled at your flushed cheeks and slightly red eyes from the alcohol. The one that stood out the most was the one at the bottom; Mason had his hands on your cheeks and was in the midst of kissing you, but the grin on your face was too big so it just ended up being a kiss of clashing teeth and breathless laughter.

“You said the other day that you were missing a proper bookmark,” he mumbled and pulled you out of your reveries. “So I hope you like it.”

Your heart swelled in your chest from his uncertain voice and you were quick to place the bookmark back in the book before dropping the book back onto the bed before scampering around in his arms.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck so you could pull him flushed against you. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and started to softly rock you from side to side. You smiled at the action and raked your hand through the hair at the back of his neck and scratched softly at his skin with your nails.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I love you,” he mumbled softly against you and you were sure a tear or two escaped from your eyes at his declaration.

You bent your head slightly so you could kiss just beside his ear as you squeezed him tight against your chest. “I think I may have an inkling,” you whispered to him, “cause I think I might love you just as much.”

He simply shook his head before his lips searched for yours and hummed when he tasted the lingering taste of fruit and champagne on your lips.

“Happy birthday baby,” he whispered before pulling you back in, determined to never let you go.

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calpops · 3 years

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forgotten | c.h.

Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.

aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)

1.8k words

my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

* * *

Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Text

Okay

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst (with a happy ending); General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Part I and II! This almost had an alternate ending, (it's still sitting in my WIPS) but I couldn't do them like that 😅 it starts off angsty, but the happy ending is there 😊 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test... or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and whispers, “I cannot believe I’m about to do this.”

She grabs her stuff and begins walking to a less busy part of the gates area. Ethan is too stunned to move for a moment. She looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Right!” and speedwalks after her.

She stands with her suitcase in front of her, arms crossed, waiting for him to start speaking.

He runs his hand through his hair, clears his throat, and locks eyes with her.

“There are no excuses for my actions, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know that’s an out people utilize, but in this case, it’s true. You know about my mother abandoning my father and I when I was a child, but what I have not shared is that her leaving absolutely destroyed my father. He waited and waited for her return, all the while putting on a brave face for me, and continuing to love her."

He notices that her arms have fallen back to her sides.

"What he did not know was that I could hear him crying at night, that I would catch him wistfully looking at her pictures, and overhear him leaving her voicemails begging her to come home. Watching him fall apart, while I couldn’t do anything, broke my heart and I promised myself I would never let myself be in the same position. ”

Her eyes have slightly softened now too and it’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

“My father says that he and my mother had a great relationship in the beginning. Then a few years down the road, it started to change. He told me that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes it just isn’t enough, because if it was, she wouldn’t have left. Therefore, to ensure that I wouldn’t be left heartbroken again, I closed myself off to anyone and everyone.”

He can feel the tears gathering slowly in his eyes and he tentatively reaches for her hands.

“Until I met you. You have been so incredibly patient, supportive, and understanding with me; I see and feel it everyday. Despite that, I am still afraid. Afraid that one day, you will lose your patience with me or that you will see what my mother, the one person who was supposed to love me most in the world, saw, and leave as well and I’ll be left shattered, begging you to come back to me.”

She begins to try and say something, but Ethan continues.

“I know you are not my mother and that I am not my father. But the images of him in the first few months after she left are ingrained and still haunt me.”

He’s gripping her hands tightly now and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“I do not want to make the same mistakes as my parents: that is what I meant. You, and we, are not a mistake. I know we can, will, do better. I completely misspoke the other night and even Jenner has been acutely avoiding me since then.”

She laughs lightly and it gives Ethan the strength to blink away his tears.

“I am so incredibly sorry for my words and for hurting you. I will spend however long and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

He rests his forehead against hers and whispers, "There are not enough words for me to convey my gratitude in having you in my life. You deserve better and I will do my utmost to be better. Forgive me, baby.”

She serenely scans his face and his heart begins to pound so loudly, that he wonders if she can hear it too.

She brings one hand to wrap around the back of his neck and her eyes flutter closed. She gives a small nod and whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She pulls back far enough to look in his cerulean eyes and nods again. He breaks out into a large grin and sweeps her up into his arms, spinning her around. She laughs in surprise and Ethan thinks it's the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

He sets her back down and kisses her tenderly, languidly. He pulls away with great effort and takes her plane ticket.

“Now that you won’t be needing this anymore, how about we go back to my place?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, as he’s already moving to collect her things. She tugs on his hand and he looks up. When their eyes connect, she places one hand on his cheek.

“I know this is difficult for you. So thank you. For your apology, for opening up to me… for trying.”

He leans into her touch and places a sweet kiss to her palm.

“For you, I am always willing to try.”

She beams at him as he places a soft kiss to her temple and they walk out of the airport, hand in hand.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #choices open heart #open heart #open heart ethan #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey open heart #open heart fic

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junicai · 4 years

Text

lights out.

| summary | In New York, the City that Never Sleeps, Aria can’t sleep. So, her roommate comes up with a skeptical idea, and ropes Mark into it as well.

| word count | 3.7k

| warnings | one (1) curse word

| era | circa. April 2019

92. "Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English."

New York City.

Forever illuminated in light, forever alive and bustling down below the skyrises that towered above the people that wandered through the streets no matter what time was displayed on the clocks. The city was teeming with energy, bubbling beneath the surface as it waited for a chance to explode.

Traffic backlogged street to street, wandering souls pattering around the block in search of nothing, aimlessly strolling past the busy business-goers, those that carried briefcases with carefully filed notes and papers, and those that had dragged themselves out of their beds for the graveyard shift in the neon-lighted coffeehouse.

24-hour Coffee! The best coffee you’ll find in the Big Apple!

The noise outside the window was muffled through the thick glass but the busy sounds of the city still filtered through, gently falling in to the otherwise silent hotel room.

Aria rolled over onto her side, pressing her head into the soft pillow. The red LED lights of the alarm clock sitting on the locker beside her bed was boring the colour into her retinas, and no good could come from simply watching the minutes tick by.

The blankets were soft, if not a little cold on her skin, and she pulled her legs into her chest to rub at the exposed skin lightly. Donghyuck had insisted on leaving the air conditioning on as they slept, the boy living up to his name Fullsun as he ran hot near-constantly, but that left Aria to shiver slightly despite the mountain of blankets she had buried herself beneath.

Rolling back over to the cool side of the pillowcase, Aria let her eyes fall on Donghyuck’s back.

The boy wasn’t asleep - she could hear the low sounds coming from the airpods in his ears as he watched something on his phone - but he looked comfortable enough that she was reluctant to disturb him.

It had been a long day, and tomorrow was their only real designated day in this area before they were scheduled to be flown out to their next concert.

Aria loved touring, but it was hard to keep going sometimes. She assumed that Donghyuck thought the same, and that’s why instead of insisting that the pair of them watched something on his laptop, or played a game, he was letting her sleep in peace.

He had watched Aria push herself past what they both had thought her limits had been that day - watched as she stumbled through the final songs of their set with blurry eyes and a shaking frame. He’d moved to wrap an arm around her waist as soon as they had broken formation, and she’d given him a shaky smile for his efforts.

Donghyuck had guided a rapidly blinking Aria through their ending ments and off the stage, catching her as she slipped down the last two steps. He’d practically carried her into the car, waving off an insisting Yuta, who was adamant that he could help despite still favoring the ankle he had rolled two nights ago.

They were all running a little worse-for-wear, but, by god the crowds made up for it.

He had known that NCT 127 had an international fanbase, had known that they were popular overseas for years. But there was nothing like seeing a crowd of five thousand, even eight thousand people from a country that didn’t speak their language, singing their songs and screaming their fanchants at the top of their lungs.

It settled into his bones, pushed him past his old boundaries to create new ones, made him want to keep going and keep singing, keep dancing, keep performing until his knees went from beneath him and he fell to the ground with a thud.

Donghyuck knew Aria felt the same, and that’s why he took it upon himself to pull her away when she needed him to.

Despite their broadly opposite personalities - truly the sun and the moon when it came down to it - they were similar in so many ways. Scarily so.

Scary, in so far as the fact that Donghyuck knew when Aria couldn’t take it anymore, knew when she was stumbling and falling not because she was tired but because she’d hurt her back again and was unwilling to talk about it. Scary, in the fact that he knew when she wasn’t telling them something, choosing to bite her lip instead of letting whatever worry that was bouncing around in her head fall onto their shoulders to help carry the weight.

Donghyuck wanted to help her carry those things. Even if that meant carrying her as well.

The two of them had slipped into the hotel room at nine minutes past ten, showering briefly in the small bathroom they had adjoined to the left wall and slid into the two beds with a quiet goodnight. It had been silent since Aria had leant down to turn off the centre light, only the light peeking through the curtains from the street and the light of Donghyuck’s phone screen to illuminate the dark room left.

He had thought she had fallen asleep soon after - given the bleary squinted look she had given him in the van home as she told her to not fall asleep just yet, that they’d be home soon and then she could sleep - so you could imagine his surprise as he flipped over in the bed, letting the phone fall face down and was met with the image of Aria starfished over her single bed, staring open-eyed at the ceiling.

“Ari?” Donghyuck cleared his throat. “Ari? Why’re you awake still?”

Aria’s head flopped to the side to look at Donghyuck in the opposite bed, blinking once at him before closing her eyes and groaning. “Can’t sleep.”

He hummed, lifting up the corner of his blanket with a hand as the other pushed his phone onto the bedside locker to make sure it didn’t fall off the bed.

Without a word, Aria slid out from underneath her own blankets - pulling one from the top layer - and padded across the room to slide into Donghyuck’s embrace, fluffing the extra blanket on top of them both.

Donghyuck sniffed a laugh at her, but said nothing as he dropped his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him and snuggled his head into where her shoulder meets her neck.

Aria giggled lightly at his hair tickling her skin, moving her head away from the strands until the hand around her waist squeezed once.

“It tickles,” She whispered.

“But m’comfy like this,” He responded, shoving his head further in if possible and throwing a leg over hers.

“Just-” Aria moved some of his hair away from her face. “Better.”

“Better?”

“Its not in my face anymore.”

Donghyuck lifted his head from her shoulder to peer up at her face. “Why couldn’t you sleep? You were sleepy in the van.”

Aria huffed. “No I wasn’t.”

“You hit your head against the window when you dozed off.”

“I-”

“Twice.”

She sighed through her nose. “If it bruises I’m going to be upset. My face is my only selling point right now.”

A silence permeated the room, and Donghyuck sat up.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked again.

Aria flipped to lay on her stomach, shoving her head into the pillow. “I dunno. Think I have some excess energy to burn off or something.”

“You were literally dead on your feet three hours ago,” Donghyuck said.

“I know that. I just, feel like I need to go on a walk or something. Just to move or do something that isn’t lying in a bed in the middle of New York.” Aria muffled out into the fabric, kicking her legs slightly.

Donghyuck caught a wayward ankle before it could hit him in the face. “Hey, kicking your best friend was not on that list!”

“It could be.”

Scowling, he fell back beside her, scooching closer. The pair laid together for a moment, listening to the sound of traffic from outside.

“You want to go for a walk?” Donghyuck was the one to break the silence, looking down at Aria.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.”

Aria lifted her head to blink up at him. “It’s like,” she broke off to turn her head towards the clock, blinking rapidly to bring the LED numbers into view, “Half one in the morning, I don’t think the hotel gym is open.”

“I don’t mean the gym. I mean out there.” Donghyuck pointed to the window.

This time it was Aria who sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “Hyuck, what?”

“You want to go for a walk? Let’s go for a walk. Who’s gonna stop us?”

“Our managers? The fact that its nearly two in the morning? The fact that Taeyong will kill us?” She said, bewildered.

Donghyuck sat up to face her properly. “They won’t know! We could be quick - promise. You can’t tell me you don’t want to see the city properly.”

Aria spluttered. “We have seen the city! We took that bus tour around when we first arrived!”

He scoffed. “I meant properly, Ari. Like a local. How the city is meant to be.”

“We could get murdered.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let that happen.”

Aria swallowed. “What happens if we get caught on the way out?”

“Simple: Lie.” Donghyuck leant back on his hands like this wasn’t the worst plan he had ever come up with in his nineteen years of life.

It wasn’t often that Aria went along with his ideas - nine times out of ten, she was usually the one talking him out of them. It was only when she’d run out of patience, or the will to give the effort to barter logic out with him that she’d give in. Or in cases like this.

“Fine.”

Donghyuck let out a whoop, reaching over to the locker to snag his phone off the top of it and flicking the screen unlocked. Aria in turn proceeded to roll off the bed and onto the carpet, looking for the pair of leggings she had worn through the airport to cover her legs so she didn’t go wandering around the city in a pair of sleep shorts.

Finding the black coloured material hanging on the back of the chair, she could hear Donghyuck texting someone behind her.

“Who’s that?” She asked, not bothering to turn around as she moved into the bathroom and partially shut the door to allow her both privacy and the ability to continue her conversation with him.

“Mark - Thought we should tell someone where we’re gone, right?”

Aria stopped. “Does he want to come?”

“Given the angry texts I’ve just received about quote, missing out on stuff like this now that he’s not in Dream: I’d say a solid yes.”

Aria nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “Is Jungwoo coming as well then?”

Mark was rooming with Jungwoo this time around, the members alternating on a rotational basis.

Donghyuck shook his head. “No, he says that Jungwoo is too tired. He’ll keep a lookout for Taeyong for us though, which is good.”

“Huh, that’s nice of him.” Aria re-emerged from the bathroom, leggings pulled up over her hips and a large hoodie swamping her frame. With her thin wire glasses, she looked cosy and extremely comfortable.

Donghyuck himself was still wearing a pair of sweatpants, and pulled one of his hoodies on over his t-shirt before rummaging in the pile of shoes to find something comfortable.

Without looking back, he tossed out Aria’s runners, who caught them with a thanks before sitting down on the ground to do up the laces.

He succeeded in finding his own pair of shoes, pulling them in just before two light knocks sounded against their door. Aria pulled it open to reveal a bleary-eyed but excited Mark, a padded jacket pulled over his jumper.

"You are insane." Was the first thing out of his mouth.

"You're welcome to leave?" Sniffed Aria.

Mark frowned. "I never said I wasn't."

Opening the door wider, she revealed Donghyuck who had just stood up from the edge of the bed, brushing down his pants. He looked up to meet Mark's eyes and grinned.

"Let's go!" He cheered, moving to walk out into the hallway but being stopped by Aria catching the neck of his jumper and tugging him back.

Looking at her quizzically, he raised an eyebrow.

"You need a coat? It's nearly two in the morning it's going to be cold outside."

Aria herself had pulled on a jacket once Mark had arrived, but Donghyuck was still only clad in a threadbare hoodie that wouldn't protect him from the cold outside.

Reaching back over the bed, he pulled out his cost from beneath a chair and slid his arms into it wordlessly. He turned to Aria and spread his arms out into a display. "Happy?"

"It's better."

"Guys do you think we could not do this in the hallway? I really don't want to get caught by someone right now." Mark's voice came from just inside the doorway.

"Right, right," Aria agreed, shoving Donghyuck out the door and snatching the keycard off the table just before they left.

She slipped the keycard into her inside pocket of her jacket, zipping it closed before patting the padded material lightly. “Safe and sound.”

Mark, closed the door behind them. The beep sounded as the mechanism locked itself, and the trio were left standing alone in the empty hallway.

Donghyuck stretched his arms above his head, wincing slightly as his shoulder clicked. “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

Aria paused. “Hyuck, you don’t speak English.”

“I’m deaf and you don’t speak English.”

“And what do I do? You planning on leaving me for dead?” Mark asked, arms crossed.

Donghyuck only pat him on the shoulder, moving to rest his weight onto his elbow. “You, are fast. You’ll be fine.”

“You, are a terrible influence.”

“A proud one.”

Aria put a hand on one of their shoulders each, pushing the two boys forward down the hallway insistently. “Let’s not have this argument where we can be found in incriminating circumstances, okay boys?”

Donghyuck snorted. “Aria we’re not going to go to jail for sneaking out.”

“Doyoung might put Aria on house arrest,” Mark countered.

“Then let’s not wait around for him to find her!”

With that, the trio made their way down the hallway, choosing to take the stairs down to the ground floor instead of the elevator - hoping to avoid as many people as possible. Aria had slipped three black facemasks into her pocket before they had left the room, knowing that if they were to be spotted they’d need something to help them blend in.

The front doors of the hotel slid open with a quiet beep, and she was blasted with a cold front of air. She could feel her nose twitch slightly at the breeze, and knew that she’d be returning with a rosy tinge to her skin if they stayed out longer than a few minutes.

But instead of letting that bother her, Aria chose to focus on the identical wide grins Donghyuck and Mark sported, both boys looking around in wonder at the lights that surrounded them on the pavement.

“Shall we?” Aria extended her arms playfully, giggling lightly as they both linked their arms into hers.

Beginning their walk down the pavement, she could only look around in wonder. New York truly lived up to it’s name - dozens of people were milling about even at this time, all clad in various thicknesses of coats, and Aria felt herself relax minutely at the knowledge that the trio didn’t stick out against the colorful lights like a sore thumb.

Each street had something new, and her eyes grew wider with every sign they passed as they walked.

“Mark look!” Aria pointed towards a small bookstore on the corner of the block, dropping his arm to run towards the window. “Doesn’t that look like the notebook you wanted to get in Atlanta?”

A small, green leather-bound notebook had piqued Mark’s interest in the city earlier that month, but by the time he had had the time to get to the bookstore, the notebook had been sold.

The notebook that Aria pointed out was near identical - perhaps a little bit thicker, but close enough to the original that Mark was already planning on how he was going to get back to this street tomorrow when all the shops were opened back up.

“Do you think we could come back here tomorrow to get it for you?” Aria looked away from the window, eyes shining hopefully.

Mark reached out to tug Aria underneath his arm, pulling her into his side. “I’m sure we can figure something out, Ari.”

She clapped her hands lightly to celebrate, before Donghyuck was taking them both by the hand and dragging them both back down the street which they had walked up.

“Now, while you’ve both been looking for fancy notebooks, I’ve been doing some important area recon, and have discovered that,” He trailed off, continuing walking with a firm grip on their wrists.

“Ta-da!” Donghyuck came to a stop, releasing their wrists before making jazz hands beside his face.

Behind him, was a small food cart with an attendee that looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

“Pretzels?” Mark asked with a tilted head.

“Pretzels.” Donghyuck nodded emphatically.

Aria tugged lightly on the younger boy’s sleeve. “Hyuck, I don’t think any of us brought money with us-”

Donghyuck hummed, cutting her off. “Got you covered, angel.” pulling out his phone and taking several small bills from behind his opaque phone case.

Turning to the attendee with a blinding smile he strolled forward to the cart, opening his mouth to begin speaking.

“Can I.. we..”

Mark stepped up behind him. “Order,” he whispered, facing the pavement so his lips weren’t visible to the man.

“Order.. three.. three,”

“Pretzels,”

“Pretzels please?” Donghyuck finished, looking up at the man curiously.

“Yeah,” Came the deadened response. “That’ll be $9.87.”

Donghyuck fumbled with his hands momentarily, before placing three bills into the awaiting hand and stepping back from the cart, shoving his hands into his pocket.

Aria came up beside him as Mark waited at the front of the cart. “Hyuck, I don’t think I should..”

He turned his head to look at her. “Hm?”

“I don’t think I should, eat that. You know?” She looked down knawing at her lip slightly.

“I think you should.” He said.

“No I really shouldn’t-”

Aria was cut off by Mark approaching them, three warm pretzels in his hand. He handed one to Donghyuck who took it with an affirming hum before ripping into the bread with his teeth, and handed the other to a cautious Aria.

After Mark had taken his first bite, he looked quizzically at Aria who was staring traitorously at the bread in her hand. “Ari?”

She sighed, dropping her shoulders a little. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I should-”

Aria squeaked when both Donghyuck’s and Mark’s glare was turned on her. “Guys I-”

“Pretzel.”

A protest formed on the top of her tongue, but fell flat when Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, ok sorry.” Aria took a bite from the now-cooling snack.

Satisfied, both boys went back to their own snacks, sighing lightly as the trio continued their walk back down the streets they had come. From a different angle, they noticed new things each time, and it was so easy to lose track of the time when they were staring up in wonder at the neon lights.

The atmosphere was broken by a ping from Mark’s phone.

Jungwoo [2:08] uh

Jungwoo [2:08] taeyong hyung started his rounds

Jungwoo [2:08] id recommend getting ur asses back

Jungwoo [2:09] ill stall him

Mark [2:09] how long do we have

Jungwoo [2:09] seven minutes. tops

Mark [2:09] fuck

The trio turned on their heels, pelting down the pavement.

The people they passed looked oddly at them - they must have made a comical sight. Three twenty-year-olds, dressed in padded jackets and facemasks sprinting down the street at two am. They looked like they’d just committed a robbery.

Aria could feel sweat beading at her forehead beneath her headband, pulling it off and tucking it into her pocket. These shoes were not designed for sprinting, and she could feel the rough plastic digging into her ankle already.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get back?” Aria yelled over to the other boys, the blood rushing in her ears.

Mark slipped out his phone from his pocket, pulling it up close to his face and checking the time. “Four minutes? We’ve gone in a big circle.”

“We’re dead.” Donghyuck breathed out harshly, picking up speed.

Silence filled in the wind rushing past their ears, feet pounding against the pavement. Mark barely stopped himself before crashing into a small child clinging sleepily to an older woman’s hand; twisting his body out of the way at the last second before profusely apologizing.

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the front doors of the hotel they were staying at for the next two nights.

Panting, Aria slowed to a walk, pulling at the neck of her sweater to fan herself. She took slow and deep breaths, trying to calm her pulse before they made their way into the lobby.

Starting forward, she was stopped by Donghyuck’s hand on her shoulder and Mark’s sharp intake of breath.

“Oh. Oh god.��

“Mark? You alright?” Aria turned to face the boy, watching his face drain of colour.

He lifted a hand, pointing to the one window on the fifth floor with a light still on. It stood out against the other darkened windows, like a lightstick in a sea of concert-goers. And there, illuminated against the cream-coloured curtains, was Taeyong’s silhouette.

Donghyuck huffed. “Aria, this was a terrible idea!”

129 notes · View notes

dcforts · 3 years

Text

[week 4: selfie together]

1.7k, post-canon, non canon compliant.

Three days to impact (moving out with Cas and a bunch of hunter nerds settling into the bunker to set up the Network), and Dean was still elbow deep in messy drawers, sorting through his stuff in one of the research rooms. He couldn’t believe he had managed to hoard that much crap when he spent there not more than six months every year.

Sam had already taken care of most of it and thrown away a lot of junk when he had moved away with Eileen a year or so ago, so Dean had thought that he would be packed in less than a day with what was left. He was wrong.

He was tackling a bunch of phones and chargers all tangled up together, trying to figure out which ones were still working. Between him and Sam they had probably gone through a hundred or so phones, without counting the burners, their dad’s and those of other hunters, passed on after their deaths.

You had to keep them on, check the messages, write down the contacts – for a long time it was the only way to keep the network going and to make sure that no call for help would ever go unanswered.

Hopefully the Network, with Charlie fancy digital system and stolen tech from the Brits, would make things a lot easier. The bunker would become the hunter HQ that it was always meant to be. And Sam and Dean would still go there from time to time, but it would become more like a workplace than an actual home.

Magazines apparently said you had to keep them separated and all that. So, they were trying.

He wasn’t even halfway done when he found his old phone. It was not too ancient or anything and he used to like it just fine, but for Christmas Claire and the girls had gotten him a new one (“not for work!!” said the note attached to it) so he had just dumped it in here.

It had no SIM card, but there were some police contacts (useful) and the Candy Crush app (not useful). He went on to check the gallery and was surprised to find still some pictures in it.

He snorted, seeing one of the last taken – Sam, drunk on Christmas Day, a paper crown askew on his head, trying to focus enough to play Jenga with someone who was out of the shot. Dean didn’t remember who it was anymore. Sam had the most incredible face on.

Oh, there were pictures from when they went to visit Garth! He had taken them at Frontier Stables in Frederic and Dean and Gertie had possibly been equally excited about riding a horse. There were a bunch of pictures of that day, including one Garth had taken of him where he looked like an absolute dork.

Wow, they must have been at least a year or so older, he had totally forgotten about them. Now, he couldn’t just put the phone down and resume his work. He debated with himself (very briefly) if he could afford a break or not and then flopped down on the floor covered in cardboard boxes to look through the rest of the gallery.

Most of the pictures were cases related, articles and crime scenes, then a bunch of landscapes, an amazing looking burger from that joint in Texas.

There was one with Cas that he had taken one night. Dean’s face was on the foreground, on the left, and he was making a funny face, his index finger to his lips. The red couch was visible behind his shoulders and Cas was by his side, his face turned towards the television screen and lighted by it.

They had been cooped up in Dean’s cave for nearly four hours and all that time Sam was freaking out because he didn’t know where they were and he couldn’t find them. When Dean had checked his phone, he had found fourteen missed calls and a bunch of texts. He had sent him that picture back and written shh it's movie night.

Sam had come bursting through the door two seconds later and bitched at him for fifteen minutes for having his phone on silent and then stayed and watched Back to the Future III with them.

This was before he and Cas even got together – well, officially at least.

It felt like so long ago, back when they were all: fingers brushing, intense gazing, losing track of time when alone together. They were so clueless.

It had sorted itself out though. A couple of weeks after that, Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder and Cas had spent the rest of the night holding him and he had done that every night since.

Dean smiled and scrolled down, back in time.

More photos on the road, book pages, his car against a pretty sunset. Then a group selfie that they sent to Jody for her birthday. Sam and Eileen were still living at the bunker then and Sam was holding the phone, on account of having three feet long arms. They were standing in the kitchen, Eileen right next to him, under his other arm and Dean next to Eileen.

Cas had appeared on the door as they were getting in position so Sam he had told him to hurry up, get in the frame and he had come to stand next to Dean, stiff like a statue. Sam had said, a little closer, so Dean had slung an arm around his neck and pulled him towards him.

Right when Sam had been about to snap it, Cas had grabbed Dean’s hand, that was dangling over his shoulder. So of course, in the picture Dean looked like a total idiot, with his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. He had even stopped breathing a little and Cas next to him had the audacity to look totally oblivious. Dean zoomed in on his face and cackled at himself. God, and what was up with that haircut he had, did he even look at himself in the mirror.

He went on.

A few rows below there was another selfie. It was just him this time and it was terrible, the sunlight making the picture look all wrong, like there was a filter on it. It was a vertical shot that showed just about his face and shoulders.

It had been early in the morning, he was bleary-eyed and there was a little wrinkle in between his eyebrows because he had been in the car waiting for Sam to come back with their coffee for twenty minutes.

Cas had texted him out of the blue, Can you send me a picture of you? and Dean had snapped it and sent it without thinking and then he had written, what do you need it for and Cas had written back, I just miss you. Dean had almost dropped his phone, then put it away and not looked at it until late that night. Yeah, it hadn’t been one of his best moments.

Finally he had managed to pull out the conversation again. He had typed and deleted miss you too and same and same, man about a thousand times and then ended up writing your turn now.

He remembered that Cas had been quick to reply with an even worse shot than the one he had sent. Some blurry picture he had taken under a streetlight, his face wearing an intense expression, as if he needed to focus to tap once on a screen. Still, Dean had looked at it for an hour before he had gone to sleep. What a sap.

Thinking of that photo reminded him of another one. He wondered if? It took a while to find it, but it was there, almost at the end of the gallery, right after a picture of Jody in a ridiculous sun hat from when they all went to the beach for the weekend.

It was there. Their first selfie together. He snorted out loud.

He had been pacing in the map room, cursing at his phone that was stuck with the camera open. He was trying everything and it just wouldn’t close.

Cas had come look over his shoulder while Dean had been furiously tapping, and that was when the screen had frozen and flashed and the result of that was a picture of the two of them from the most unflattering angle, frowning down at the phone. Two half faces, Dean on the right, Cas on the left. Dean thought it was hilarious.

Cas had said, “I think you took a picture,” because he was a great help as usual and Dean had said, “Yeah, no shit Cas,” and eventually had to restart the phone to make it work again.

He couldn’t believe that had happened more than two years ago.

“I’m done with the inventory of the herbs. Are you done in here?” said Cas, poking his head in from the hallway. Dean very obviously wasn’t done, but he was still smiling, so Cas said, “What is it?” and came to crouch beside him to peer at his phone and the infamous selfie, “Why did we take this?”

Dean laughed, “We didn’t. My phone was acting up.”

"And you kept it?"

"Yeah, of course I kept it," Dean said, tilting his phone away, as if Cas would jump him to delete it.

Cas had other priorities. He kissed his temple.

"Okay," he said amused, then, "Do you need help? Charlie is coming over in an hour to set up the - cables."

There were no cables. Cas clearly didn’t know what he was talking about, but Dean had no idea of what Charlie was supposed to do either, so.

"No, just - wait, let's take a picture," he said, grabbing his sleeve before he could get up. Cas settled once again next to him and Dean opened the camera and held his phone up, then got his other arm around Cas’ shoulders.

The light was not great, like anywhere else in the bunker and they looked exhausted after a day's work but still, not a bad sight, if Dean could say so himself.

He focused on Cas on the screen, the little smile on his lips.

He grinned. He was gonna spend the rest of his life with that face, he thought. Jesus.

"Dean?" Cas called, after another moment of nothing.

"Alright, alright," he said and snapped the picture.

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

#deancassummerprompts21 #deancas #deancas ficlet #fwf #as in finale? what finale?#i couldnt decide on what idea to focus on so i kept them all #incredibly on time for once #i just didn't want to edit it too much cause i like it????#yeah i know weird #it was fun #my writing

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walter-boswell428 · 3 years

Text

Mission Recover

The Tower

“Alex?” Eliza Danvers asked, “Anything?”

“We are trying, mom, I swear we are trying?” Alex answered through gritted teeth.

“Alexandra Danvers,” Eliza said quietly, “I’m not upset with you, it’s the situation.”

“I know, mom,” Alex sighed, “we are all working on it.”

“I’m headed up to National City tomorrow, is there anything I can bring?” Eliza asked?

“No, but if I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” Alex relaxed, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” Eliza smiled as well, “give Kelly a hug for me.”

Alex disconnected the call, placing her phone flat on the conference table and layed her head on the cool table top.

>>>

Forty-five minutes later she felt a hand rest on her shoulder and looked up into the weary eyes of Lena Luthor. “Kelly said your mom is coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, she--she’s really worried, and I think she wants to help,” Alex explained, her voice hoarse and heavy with sleep.

“Does she have a place to stay?” Lena asked warmly, taking a seat in Kara’s chair, “I can put her up at my condo.”

Smiling, Alex patted Lena's hand, “she is going to stay at my place, I’m not using it right now.”

“You can’t keep sleeping here,” Lena pouted, “you need to get some real sleep.”

“I believe that would be the pot calling the kettle black, Ms. Luthor,” Kelly Olsen smiled tiredly as she entered the room. “You haven’t been home since you quit Luthor Corp.”

Alex blinked, surprised, “you quit?”

Lena hung her head, “I couldn’t work with him anymore, not after--not after what he did.” Her eyes lifted when she felt Alex squeeze her hand, “I couldn’t go home. Too many bad memories.”

Alex squeezed harder, “I understand. Hey, you want to--you want the key to Kara’s place?”

Lena’s eyes bulged, and she quickly shook her head, “no, no, no…” She turned and quickly walked away, heading towards her lab.

“She still blaming herself?” Alex asked as she looked to Kelly, her tone calm and relaxed. “She’s part of the team, none of us hold her responsible for what her brother did.”

“She’s--she’s complicated, Alex,” Kelly turned and looked at the door, a small frown forming on her face, “and she’s scared that she and Kara are going to be…”

“Broken? Again?” Alex spoke quietly as she laced her fingers into Kelly’s. “We really need to find Kara, before we all fall apart. Especially her girlfriend there.”

“Don’t say that out loud to her, she’s so brittle right now, it won’t take much for her to break, and Kara is her breaking point,” Kelly squeezed Alex’s fingers. “All her fears, hopes and dreams are about Kara.”

>>>

Lena’s Lab

Lena’s fingers flew over the keyboard, checking readings and double checking everything again. “Dammit, Kara!” she swore, “where are you?” Her fist slammed down on the panel.

“Lena?” Nia asked as she opened the door. “Are you okay?”

Lena took a deep breath, and rubbed her hands together before turning to face the young hero. “Sorry Nia, I’m frustrated.”

A nervous laugh escaped the younger woman’s lips, “that could be because you are taking all of this...” The Naltorian swept her arms around, “you are blaming yourself for everything.”

“Kara is lost, because I didn’t outsmart Lex! We are working alone because I am here and the other heroes don’t want to work with me!” Tears started to stream down Lena’s cheeks, “I have never been strong enough. I am here now, because I wasn’t strong enough to save her.”

“Lena, Kara doesn’t blame you. She never did,” Nia whispered.

Lena collapsed to her knees, ‘n-n-not Kara, I failed her, I-I-I failed my mother.” She raised her head and screamed.

Nia rushed to Lena, arms outstretched, wrapping them tightly around the woman, “I’m sorry, I am so sorry. Shhh, it’s okay.” Nia crouched down, taking Lena with her. Nia leaned against the desk, still holding on as Lena cried. In a soft whisper she started to sing, a Naltorian lullaby her mother had taught her.

The exhausted woman in her arms lowered herself slowly, sliding beside Nia and resting her head on her shoulder. “I’m so tired, so tired.”

Nia smiled, slowly weaving her power into the words as she sang. It had the desired effect, and Lena’s eyes slowly started to close, and her breathing eventually evened out. Within a few minutes, she stretched and slid her head down onto Nia’s crossed legs.

A few minutes later, Kelly and Alex entered the lab and found the two women sleeping on the floor.

“I know it looks uncomfortable, but maybe?” Kelly shrugged towards the two women.

Alex nodded, surrendering, and she and Kelly made their way over to the sleeping pair, joining them and dozing off quickly.

>>>

At Luthor Corp

Lex Luthor looked out over the city from his office, smiling as he looked into the sky. His computer beeped and he turned, talking to himself, “the Girl of Steel, waking up again.” He waved his hand and a hologram of the Phantom Zone appeared in space at eye level, a red dot marking the location of Kara Zor-El.

>>>

The Phantom Zone

Kara stirred slowly, moving stiffly as she stood up. She shivered as she approached the cave entrance pulling her cape around her shoulders. It was the first time she had slept without nightmares in several days, and she couldn’t help but think that it was because her father was not around at the moment.

She watched through the hazy, half-dark skies as a figure approached. It was Zor-El and she found herself disappointed that he had once again found his way back to her. She huffed out a deep sigh and turned back into the cave.

As she took a seat against the back wall, she wondered what her friends and family were up to at the moment. ‘How long have I been gone? Have they given up? Have they moved on? Has Lena?’

“I have returned, inah,” Zor-El’s hollow voice called out from the entrance of the cave.

Kara rolled over and rested her head on her arm, pulling the cape tighter around her as she ignored the call, and fell back to sleep.

>>>

The Tower

As blue eyes slid closed, green and brown burst open at the same moment. “We need her DNA!” Lena and Alex yelled at the same time.

Kelly and Nia jumped as the two women screamed at each and stood up, running towards the bank of computers on the wall. Alex was pulling up the schematics for a scanner while Lena was entering in hypothetical information to start modeling the software. She slowed down for a moment then, staring at the screen, then turned to Alex, “where are we going to get Kara’s DNA?”

Alex turned to the whole group, a grin splitting her face, “mom.” Then she turned back to the computer and activated the program she was working on.

>>>

Alex’s Home

The next morning, Alex and Kelly met Eliza at the front door of the apartment. She peeked in and noticed a third person, and smiled brightly as she recognized the small blonde woman. After hugging Alex and Kelly, she stepped through the door and walked directly towards Cat Grant, “didn’t think I would be seeing you today.”

“Well I figured since my ‘source’ for all news involving Kara and Supergirl was going to be in National City, I should make an appearance, especially since no one in Kara’s group, other than you, Eliza, notified me that Kara would be working with me on a special story,” Cat smirked as she looked over Eliza’s shoulder at Alex and Kelly. “Now, would you two like to tell me about the secret you have been hiding all morning. I am assuming it has something to do with your mother’s arrival.”

Alex scanned Eliza’s neck, “mom, where is the necklace that Kara and I got you for mother’s day?”

Eliza looked at her daughter, confusion obvious on her face, and reached into the collar of her shirt, pulling the small gold chain and heart-shaped locket from her neck. “It’s right here, where I always wear it.” Alex’s hands came up, and she stopped as Eliza held up a single finger and unclasped the necklace with practiced ease and placed it in Alex's outstretched palm. “Want to tell me what this is all about?”

On the back, there were raised Kryptonian glyphs, and Alex smiled as she remembered Kara’s fingers fumbling with the gold as she shaped the locket with her hands. She found the small imperfection in the glyph and pressed lightly, causing the back of the heart to pop open with a resounding click. Her smile grew even larger when she saw the braid of hair, four each of hers and Kara’s hair, pulled from each other’s head just before Kara’s first Earth haircut. She reverently removed the hair and inspected the roots, noting that all four of the lighter colored hairs were all intact. “Yes, yes, yes!” she yelled as she slid the hairs back into the locket and yanked out her phone, dialing Lena. She only had to wait less than one ring, “we’ve got four complete hairs, will that work?”

The four women stared at the phone in shock at the sheer scream of joy from the other end.

>>>

Early the next morning, Lena looked at the screen, her vision blurry, and saw what she was looking for. Reaching out, she grasped Alex’s hand, “We did it! Oh my god, Alex! We--we found her!”

Bleary-eyed, Alex looked at the screen, and there they were, the lifesigns they were seeking, one Kryptonian signature. “You did it Lena, you found her, you found her,” Alex ran to the door, screaming into the hallway, “Lena did it, she found her, she found Kara!”

Rushing back into the lab, she grabbed Lena in a backbreaking hug, “you did it, we are going to get her back.”

Lena stiffened, “you are, you’re going to get her back, Alex.”

Alex stopped, and took a step back, taking Lena by the shoulders, “we--we are getting her back, Lena. All of us! Do you understand, ALL OF US!”

Alex watched as something dawned on Lena, she felt the younger woman relax, “We are, we are going to get her back, Alex. All of us--all of us together.”

“That’s the Lena Luthor I know, the woman I admire. The woman Kara lo--cares for,” Alex smiled. “We need to prepare, we need weapons, and a portal.”

“I believe I can help with the portal,” Brainy said as he entered the room, causing the two women to separate. “The top two floors of the tower are set up for interdimensional travel and flight,” Brainy smiled, “something J’onn failed to mention when we all decided to use this location as our headquarters.”

“Up until this point, we had no use for the technology, I apologize for keeping it a secret,” J’onn explained as he and Eliza joined them.

“You really found her, Alex? Lena?” Kelly called out as she and Nia ran into the room.

Alex reached over and grabbed Lena’s hand, “we did!”

Lena smiled, “yes we did.” She started to giggle, and it was suddenly contagious.

All the superfriends were laughing, when Cat Grant peeked in the door, shaking her head at the scene. “Can we go get her now?” the reporter asked, “Now?”

Nia froze for a moment, as blue mist swirled around her. She seemed to be staring into space, but quickly recovered, “we can’t go now, in the morning, we must go in the morning. And we have to be prepared for anything. Kara is in danger from two men, one from our dimension and one is a ghost.” The young hero shuddered, as her vision cleared.

“Alex, you and Lena, need to get some rest. Brainy you too. I’ll take care of the prep work, each of you make a list of what you need, and it will be ready.”

“I’m going too,” Eliza spoke up.

There was a resounding no from the room, except for Cat, who smirked, worried for the group of Superheroes who had just told Supergirl’s mother, no.

“Oh really, and you are all experts on Kryptonian physiology and the mental aspect of what, MY DAUGHTER, is going through?” Eliza snarled, “which one of you thinks you can stop me?”

“Mom? Be reasonable,” Alex swallowed, realizing her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

Eliza walked up to her daughter, “Alexandra Michelle Danvers?”

Alex felt the world slowdown as her mother grasped her wrist, spun Alex around and flipped her daughter onto her back. “Oof,” escaped from Alex’s lips and as she breathlessly rolled back to her stomach, taking Kelly’s hand and standing up as everyone applauded. “I--I guess you are--are going,” she grunted out.

“Yes, I guess she is,” Cat Grant laughed, “I on the other hand will stay behind and wait for this team to recover our girl.”

The team filed out, each heading to his or her own bedroom, still laughing as Alex limped down the hallway. Lena stopped, and headed back to the lab, stopping in front of Eliza, “I haven’t had time to--I didn’t set up--we don’t have sunlamps.”

“Lena,” Eliza said, “I created the sunlamps, I will make sure they are ready by morning, okay?”

Lena nodded, afraid to speak. She swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out. She closed her mouth and stared at the floor, and suddenly found herself gathered into Eliza’s arms. Soft sobbing sounds escaped Lena’s mouth, “it’s my fault, this is all my…”

“Shh, hush, Lena,” Eliza cooed, “it’s not your fault, sweetheart.” She pressed the woman into her chest, holding her gently and letting her cry. “She won’t blame you either, she believes in you Lena, she cares for you.”

“I don’t deserve her, or any of you,” Lena stuttered, settling into Eliza’s arms.

Eliza smiled, “you are absolutely just as hopeless as Kara. She loves you, Lena”

“Eliza?” Lena looked shocked.

“You are her sun, you are her everything Lena, remember that, because she is going to need us, all of us when she comes home,” Eliza said with a smile. “Go, get some sleep so we can go rescue your girl.”

>>>

The Tower

Lena stood outside the door guarding the top two floors of the tower, her hand hovering over the handle, self doubt crushing down on her shoulders. She didn’t hear the approaching steps as the rest of the Superfriends came up the hallway.

“Lena,” Alex smirked, “if you really want to go get Kara, you have to turn the handle.”

Alex watched a small smile find it’s way to Lena’s lips. Watched as Lena’s hand closed around the handle and turned, and listened as steely determination rang through Lena’s words, “let’s go.”

They all took their seats, each seemingly knowing where they should sit. At Lena’s station was a large button, obviously the one that would activate the transdimensional portal. J’onn and Eliza arrived a few minutes later taking their seats at the pilot’s station. Eliza looked over the controls, and pressed the launch button. “I wasn’t aware that you spoke Martian, Eliza?”

“I started practicing last night, I also speak French, German, Japanese and Kryptonese,” Eliza smiled. “Lena, would you be a dear, and activate the portal.”

Alex suddenly looked mortified, and Kelly felt her tense up, “what’s wrong, honey?”

“Mom speaks Kryptonese,” Alex said in a whisper, staring at the back of her mom’s head. “Kara and I used to talk to each other thinking that she and Jeremiah couldn’t understand.”

“Mother knows all, Alexandra,” Eliza said, peeking over her shoulder and winking.

Then the world broke, and the portal opened…

>>>

Luthor Corp

“Mr. Luthor,” the computer’s synthesized voice spoke through the speaker, “a portal has opened over National City. Based on your sister’s studies, the portal appears to be…”

“Shut up! Shut the hell up!” Lex growled. “Prepare my armor!”

Within minutes, Lex was suited up and launching himself towards the portal that Lena had created.

>>>

The Nightmares

Nia (A New Power Rises)

The bridge was dark, everyone was gone. Nia took a shaky breath, shivering in the cold blackness. She took another breath, then another. As her body relaxed, she tried to pull on her power. A blue glow started to emanate from her fingers, casting soft shadows throughout the dark bridge. One of the shadows came to life, walking towards her, wearing the face of her sister Maeve.

“You will fail, Nia Nal,” the shadow hissed, as it slid from shadow to shadow. “You carry the power of our mother with no knowledge of its use. You will fail your family…”

Nia tried to focus, to draw on more of her power, when out of the shadows walked Yvette's attacker, “keep trying Dreamer, you failed Yvette and it took everyone but you to find Supergirl,” the shadow’s words slid from it’s throat. “You fail, again and again…”

Nia started to raise her hands to her ears, when a final shadow appeared. “You aren’t worthy of the power Nia,” the words flowed from the mouth of the creature as its eyes opened and Nia realized she was seeing herself.

She dropped to her knees, a silent scream coming from her opened mouth. She pushed, her light slowly dimming, allowing the shadows closer and closer.

“Nia, Nia,” she heard a soft whisper in her ear, “you have always been a hero, it’s always been inside you…”. She heard the words in the voices of her family, and with each speaker her powers continued to grow, pushing against the shadows. Her eyes opened wide as Kara’s voice reached her ears, “you got this, little sister.”

With those words, a mighty roar spread through the darkness as a lioness made up of Nia’s light burst forward and destroyed the shadows.

Brainy (Form Own Destiny)

Sitting in his throne, Brainiac looked out over the destroyed planet that had once been Earth. With his enhanced powers, he could see the remains of the heroes of this petty planet, Guardian’s shield, Sentinel’s jacket, Martian Manhunter’s boots, Supergirl’s cape. Then he looked down into his hand, where he held Nia’s mask.

He sat staring at the mask for hours, running it between his fingers, relishing it weight, trying to remember the eyes that had been behind it.

“What have I become?” The words escaped his mouth in one breath.

“You have become that which you were always meant to be, offspring of Brainiac,” a shadow whispered, “you have become death, and the universe will be better for it.”

“This is not who I am?” Brainy panted, “I…”

“Ehehaha, you speak as if you can fight destiny,” the shadow laughed. “You started on this path as soon as you allied with the Earthling named Lex Luthor. He stained your soul, and now there is no turning back. You will kill them all.”

Brainy’s eyes got wide, tears started to fall, “no, I--I refuse to believe this fantasy.”

“You act as if you have a choice,” the voice whispered.

“All sentient creatures have a choice,” Brainy spoke with confidence, then felt an invisible hand take his own. “We make wrong choices. We use them to make us better, stronger…”

“IT IS YOUR DESTINY!” The voice screamed.

Gripping the hand tighter, Brainiac stood up, “logic does not dictate destiny. My friends…” the hand squeezed back, “my family forgave me, you are not by destiny.”

The lights came up, and Brainy found himself staring into the glowing eyes of Dreamer.

J’onn (Protect Your Family)

Green lidded eyes opened slowly. The Martian Manhunter shook his head, and looked around, trying to get his bearings. ‘DEO Headquarters?’ he thought to himself and attempted to move, but found himself unable to move.

Susan Vasquez and Alex walked into the room and the corner lit up showing Winn sitting at his computer. J’onn tried to speak, but no words would come. He couldn’t even move his head. Then from behind he heard booted feet approaching. He tried to turn, to fight whatever it was that had him trapped.

The first bullet struck Susan in the back of the head, the second hit Winn in the chest. The third and fourth hit Alex in the arm and then the leg, dropping her to the floor, screaming in pain and firing at her unseen enemies. The bullets passed right through him and J’onn realized it was him, he was the unseen killer.

Kara entered a moment later, shielding her sister with her body, as her heat vision fired through him over and over again.

A green round shot out, catching her in the chest, and J’onn started to breathe even harder, panic pushing him to move, but he couldn’t.

He blinked back angry tears, and felt himself starting to rise, to float away. He could see the enemy and it was Lex Luthor.

The balding man looked up at him and sneered, “running from another fight, J’onn.” Then he turned his attention back to Kara and Alex who looked up at him, fear in their eyes. Lex took a step forward, raising his arms, the noise of cycling rounds was deafening as he locked on J’onn’s earthbound daughters.

His scream gave the girls a moment but it wasn’t enough as Lex started to fire, his rounds getting closer and closer.

“It’s not real, it’s not real,” J’onn started to say to himself, “it’s not real,” He cringed in horror as the rounds got closer and closer. “IT’S NOT REAL!”

The lights came back…

Kelly (Guardian Shines)

The doors slid open and Kelly Olsen slipped in silently, moving from shadow to shadow watching and listening as an obviously controlled Lena and Eliza studied a caged phantom zone demon. As she slipped from one hiding spot, the creature spotted her and the woman froze in place.

“Kelly,” the creature hissed from the mouths of Eliza and Lena, “you should not have come here, Kelly Olsen.”

Kelly took a deep breath, getting her breathing under control, ‘this isn’t real, Nia warned us, Alex warned me, it’s all a nightmare.’

A familiar voice sounded in the woman’s ears, slurring slightly, like she had drunk one beer to many before bed time. Kelly turned towards the sound, her eyes opening wide with shock, as Alex approached, her eyes red, “Hello, Kelly.”

Stumbling back, Kelly stuttered, “what, Al--Alex?” She shifted away from the woman, holding her hands out to keep the thing that was her Alex at a distance. “Alex, this--this isn’t you, fight it, if anyone can, it’s you, honey.”

The creature began to hiss through Alex, Lena and Eliza’s mouths again, “why would we fight, we are stronger, physically and intellectually than you could ever hope to be.”

Kelly’s eyes closed tightly, ‘it’s not true, Alex would never say that.’ She opened her eyes back, and looked at the demon creature, “Alex, this isn’t something you would say. The Alex I know asked me to move in with her, she wears her fuzzy socks on a cold night in the winter. She shared her deepest secret with me and her deepest fears,” The Alex creature’s eyes flickered a moment and Kelly smiled softly, “remember the first time we met, at the hospital, how we butted heads? How we were so sure we were right and the other person was wrong? I knew then that I wanted a part of your life. All the ups and downs Alex, I can’t think of anyone else I would rather be with right now.”

Alex’s eyes closed, almost as if she was in pain, then they opened and Kelly smiled, relieved to see the brown eyes of her Alex. “Kelly, I--I didn’t mean any of that, I swear it wasn…”

Kelly smirked, “you sound just like Kara when you ramble.” Then she pressed their lips together and pulled Alex into a tight hug.

“He’s coming back, Kelly, you need to listen to Nia, let her help, trust her,” Alex said as she pulled away. “Save us, Kells. Save us…” Her eyes closed again and when they opened Kelly was once again staring into the blood red orbs of the demon.

“Nia?” Kelly gasped, backing away slowly.

“You can do this, Alex knows it and so do I,” she heard Nia’s voice whisper in her ear. “Be the Guardian your brother could never really become. Be the hero we all know you are…”

As the voice faded, Kelly saw a blue mist swirl around her, felt armor start to form on her frame. Looking down, she found herself wrapped in blue and gold, a helmet formed around her head and she watched with a smile as a gold shield appeared on her left arm.

The creature picked that moment to attack. Kelly leaped back, pressed off the wall and jumped into the air, spinning as she lifted the shield's cutting edge level with the demon’s neck. She heard it scream, landed in a crouch and turned, watching with satisfaction as it dissolved into mist.

“Good job, Guardian,” Nia said as she took Kelly’s hand and the darkness faded…

Eliza (A Mother’s Love)

Eliza stepped into the clearing, listening as Alex begged Kara to come back, to not die. Her heart clenched and she stopped. The sunlight in the plants started to move towards her adopted daughter then stopped as Snowbird swooped down from the sky and attacked Alex, driving her oldest child to the ground. The woman stopped, hovering over her girls. A growl rose in Eliza’s throat as she gathered herself up and moved out of the shadows, “get away from my girls, you bitch.”

She stopped as the creature looked up at her, red eyes, dead and uncaring staring at her. “You are weak, Eliza Danvers, not even worth my time.”

Through gritted teeth, “try me, I’ve faced nightmares worse than anything you can conjure up. Bring it on!”

The creature tilted its head away, ignoring Eliza completely and lowered itself over Alex and Kara again.

Eliza swung a tree limb at the creature's head, “I said get away from my girls!”

The creature recoiled and lost the shape it was holding, transforming into a phantom zone ghost. Eliza growled again, swinging once again at the monster’s head. She grunted as it connected with something solid and the creature howled in pain.

“Still think I’m not worth your time?” Eliza threatened.

The girls stirred and Eliza turned her head. The creature picked that moment and attacked, but Eliza was prepared and waited, raising the stick like a spear, watching in satisfaction as it impaled itself and began to dissolve into mist.

“Never doubt a mother’s love,” Eliza snarled as the light returned…

Alex (A Sister’s Bond)

Alex slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Her breath caught in her throat, as one thought came to her, ‘Kara’s apartment!’ She watched her sister’s dark shape, shooting her heat vision at the rack of clothes in the corner of the bedroom. Rushing forward, she grabbed a fire extinguisher, pulled the pin and put out the fire. Kara turned her back and strutted towards the window. “Kara?”

“Don’t even Alex,” Kara didn’t turn around, she just continued to talk, “jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

Alex shook her head. She’d been here before. She looked around the room, at Kara’s black uniform. ‘Astra’s dead, Kara’s--she’s been exposed to--to Red Kryptonite,’ Alex’s brown eyes opened. She was reliving one of the worst nights of her life.

Kara opened the window, “how does it feel, Alex? How does it feel to be less?”

“I failed you Kara, I should have been with you, I should have protected you…” Alex cried out, interrupted.

The Kara creature turned around, now longer wearing the black, now she was beaten and bruised, “you have always failed me.”

Alex’s breath caught, it was the night Reign had beaten her. The coma, Kara’s heart stopping. “I…”

The creature stopped again, and Kara was lying in a forest clearing dying as Alex struggled to remember, to save her.

“Kara…” Alex’s breath caught, she was losing it, losing control.

Kara was trapped in the fortress, the kryptonite leaching into her system. “You always arrive too late, Alexandra Danvers.”

Now Kara was against a white wall, as kryptonite slowly killed her. She was fading away, disappearing into the phantom zone.

“NO!” Alex screamed, “I haven’t failed her, not like this. Show me the times she didn’t get hurt, show me the times I held her hand and supported her. Show me the times she held my hand and supported me. WE ARE SISTERS, we fight, we hurt each other and then we get up, wipe our hands and face the world. I will save her, she will save me, and together, WE WILL KICK YOUR ASS!” Alex shook with tears, took a deep breath and stepped forward, “you will not stop us from getting her back, so GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

She fell to her knees as the darkness faded and Kelly wrapped her arms around her…

Lena (For Better or For Worse)

Lena could feel herself falling, plummeting through her own memories.

She was standing by the lake shore watching her mother’s hand sink beneath the surface.

She was standing in the hallway of a dark house, looking into the face of a woman who would never love her.

She sat alone in the cafeteria at the college, too young to understand why no one wanted to eat with her.

She was sitting alone in the courtroom, listening as Lex was sentenced.

She was always alone, until one bright light forced its way into her life.

“She’s Supergirl,” Lex said as she pulled the trigger.

Kara was standing before her then, her blue eyes hidden behind the red of the creature from the Phantom Zone, “she betrayed you, she doesn’t trust you, she is scared of you and you left her alone to suffer by your brother’s hand.”

Lena fell to her knees, a crushing sob rushing from her throat, “no.”

“It’s your fault Lena Luthor, all of it is your fault,” the creature said over and over again as it took the shape of all the Superfriends, Sam, Andrea, Lillian and Lex. Then it took Nia’s form and it’s red eyes shifted to purple.

“It wasn’t you Lena,” Nia spoke in a confident whisper, “she never doubted you, she never thought you failed her, she believes in you. We all do.”

Lena stood up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, “Kara?”

The creature screamed as it took the shape of Kara Zor-El. Blue eyes peeked out through the fingers on its face.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice cracked, “we are coming, we are coming to get you.”

“Lena? Lena, you found me?” Kara responded, her eyes brightening and her voice sounding strong.

“We will be there soon, darling. Just hold on a little longer. We are all coming for you,” Lena promised, her green eyes shining.

“Lex is here, Lena. Don’t trust my father,” Kara warned, her blue eyes slowly fading and returning to red. “Be safe Lena, be careful my Zhao.” And then she was gone.

“You failed her again, Lena Luthor,” the creature growled, and floated forward. “I will end you now,”

Lena stepped forward, “do your worst?” She held her hands out, palms facing the creature, but she wasn’t alone. Nia was standing beside her holding her outstretched left hand. She felt a grip in her right and Alex was standing there. Then Brainy, Kelly, J’onn and Eliza stepped forward.

The creature emitted a low growl and continued to move forward, expecting the Superfriends to retreat. When they failed to do so, it stopped and screamed. But the team held its ground, raising weapons and hands, all their considerable power came to bear as they fired away. Dreamer’s energy captured the monster, wrapping it in unbreakable bands of dream energy. The rest continued to flay the creature with whatever weapons they were carrying, watching as it dissolved into mist and disappeared.

>>>The Rescue

The phantom closed in on Kara, forcing the hero to duck and roll towards the other side of the cave. She stood quickly and bumped into Zor-El forcing both of them into the wall. The phantom turned, and was rushing towards them.

Kara pushed her father to the side, shoving him away, as the ghost slammed her into the stone wall, the force of the blow caused her head to crack against the solid surface, which brought stars to the Girl of Steel's eyes. She slid down the wall, the small cavern spinning under her feet. She felt the stone slice through her uniform, hissing as it ripped into her back.

The creature reared back, slicing its claws towards Kara’s face. She ducked, dropping to her side, but in doing so she caught her arm on a rough outcropping, tearing a huge gash in her arm, and leaving a huge smear of blood on the wall.

Lex Luthor stepped behind and grabbed her by the arms, wrenching them up behind her back. “I should have just killed you back in the fortress, but I guess this way, I get you and your friends.” He lifted Kara over his head and tossed her through the opening of the cave.

Kara landed on her back, the pain lancing throughout her body. She rolled over and tried to crawl away, rising to her hands and knees.

Lex, the phantom and her father closed in on her, moving purposely out of the entrance and spreading out.

Kara backed against a large outcropping, pushing herself to her feet. The phantom creature closed in and Kara locked eyes with it, daring it to enter her head. The creature froze, it had never had a willing victim. The pause would be it’s last thought.

Kara looked up as a strange shaped ship blasted through a tear in the void above. Her eyes followed a strange device that plummeted from the sky, landing about fifteen feet away. Lex and her father were so busy watching the ship, they failed to notice how close the device landed and were completely unprepared when it went off…

Pure sunlight washed over Kara and she smiled as she watched Alex and Lena drop from the ship followed by someone else. She felt her cuts start to heal and her muscles stopped aching for the first time in what seemed like forever. She stood tall as Alex dropped in a crouch at her side, the Hand of the Soldier shaping itself into a spear of some sort. Her smile grew even larger as Lena landed, wrapped in some sort of alien armor with her arm wrapped around, Eliza? Kara’s brow crinkled as she shook her head. “Eliza?” She asked, confused.

“I’ll explain later, Kar,” Alex said as she scanned her sister, noting the rips and tears in her uniform, and the blood stains.

The four women turned to face their enemies as Lex spoke, “how nice that you brought the whole family, little sister.”

Lena swallowed, speechless that Lex was actually here, her breathing sped up and her eyes were wide. “Shut up Lex, Lena’s with us, and there is nothing you can say that will ever change that,” Alex growled, as Kara stepped forward and took Lena’s fingers in her palm.

Lena stood up straighter, “Activate!”

Kara looked on impressed as Lena was wrapped in a blue suit of armor, stepping in front of Kara and Eliza.

Alex stepped up beside Lena and the fight was on.

>>>

Zor-El’s eyes became bright red orbs as he focused on Kara and Eliza, his feet lifting off the ground as he floated forward.

“Kara!” Alex yelled, “keep mom safe, Lena and I will handle Lex.”

Kara immediately stepped in front of Eliza, as Lena and Alex shot forward to take on Lex.

“How about we take care of each other, honey?” Eliza asked, as she pulled a collapsible staff from her belt, pressed the button and smiled wickedly as it extended.

Kara dropped into a crouch, her body preparing for the onslaught. “We can do this, he can shapeshift and get into your head.”

“They already tried. They’ve got no power left over us, and you just need to believe in yourself and your family, okay Kara?” Eliza responded, her eyes never leaving the creature, as she started to spin the staff in her hands.

On the other side of the field, Lex fired a rocket at Lena, and watched in anger as Alex brought up her arm, as the Hand formed a shield, deflecting the missile back at him. “Learned that one from my girlfriend, Lex,” as she rolled out of the way.

Lena rolled her eyes inside her helmet, allowing the computer to aim at the Phantom Zone projector on Lex’s back. As the tone sounded, she launched four shots, four different rockets that zoomed towards Lex at high speed. He ducked each one and rolled up to take a shot.

“Missed,” Lex laughed.

“Did she?” Alex said as she came up in front of him and sliced through his missile launcher, watching in satisfaction as it bounced away.

Lex looked confused, then shocked as all four rockets crashed into his back, detonating and tearing the projector to shreds, along with a portion of his armor.

Zor-El shot towards Eliza and was caught by surprise as Kara fired beam after beam of her heat vision at him, burning portions of his robes away. As the last shot struck him in the chest, he veered away from Eliza and focused his attention on Kara.

Kara shot forward to meet him, catching his clawed hands as he brought them down towards her face. “Never underestimate them,” she said as she held the claws back.

“Never underestimate?” the creature asked.

The staff, charged with Nia’s dream energy, came down on the monster’s head, slicing through it and turning it to ash.

“Never underestimate my family,” Kara smiled, then fell to her knees as her energy gave out. Eliza caught her and both women watched as Lex was surrounded by Alex and Lena.

Lex growled, swinging his fist, first at Alex and then at Lena. “I’m going to kill you all, do you understand, all of you.”

Lena placed a kick at the ankle of his suit, listening to the sound of crushed metal, as the boot shattered around Lex’s foot.

The Hand of the Shoulder continued to change in Alex’s skilled hand, removing power supplies with a knife’s edge and blasting away energy cores and other important components one after another.

Lex’s forward momentum stopped as his suit froze, and the maniac found himself trapped as Kara and Eliza joined his sister and Alex. He continued to spit insult after insult at each of the women, until Eliza took a deep breath and walked up to him, reared back and punched him in the nose.

Lex’s head lolled in his suit, his breathing sounding haggard through his broken nose.

An exhausted Kara looked up at the three women, “can--can we go home now?”

All three women smiled at the hero and shook their heads, leading her to the slowly descending ship.

>>>

Reunions

As the group entered the ship, they were approached by the rest of the team. Lena, still suffering from self doubt, broke off and headed towards her station. Eliza watched her go, her eyes full of concern.

Kara was barely holding herself up right, but at the sight of her friends, she opened her arms.

Brainy was the first to reach her, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms tightly around the Kryptonian. “I missed you, Kara.”

Smiling into his shoulder, Kara whispered, “Me too, Brainy.”

Kelly was next, gently pulling Kara forward, “I took care of her for you.”

“You took care of her for both of us, Kelly. Are you mad?” Kara asked softly.

“Mad about you being Supergirl? No. Mad that you got yourself into this, a little,” she smiled. They worked their way apart, “It’s good to have you back, Kara.” She leaned in and placed a light kiss on Kara’s forehead, “love you, Supergirl.”

J’onn came forward next, and everything he needed to say was conveyed in strong protective arms as they wrapped themselves around the woman he thought of as his own child. Tears fell from his eyes as he kissed the top of her head.

Nia stopped a step away, opening her mouth to speak, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kara stared back, smiling slightly, “come here, little sister.”

Nia crumbled into Kara’s arms, heaving sobs sounding from her throat, “it was you, you came to me.”

“You called, I came,” Kara said into the top of Nia’s head. Her lips brushed the other woman’s temple, “whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you.”

The hug could have lasted hours, when in reality it was just a few minutes. Then it was Eliza’s turn and tears flowed from both women. The older woman crushed the hero to her chest, pouring as much love into the hug as was possible in the moments they had.

Sniffling, Kara looked up into Eliza’s eyes and in that moment, she thanked Rao for the family she had found when she came to Earth.

Alex approached the two women next, wrapping her arms around them both, feeling her sister snuggle closer to her as Eliza pulled away, giving her daughters a moment of their own. The sister’s collapsed to their knees, refusing to let go of one another. Alex peppered Kara’s head with kisses, “she did it Kara. Lena found you. Everything you said about her was right.”

“I get to be right occasionally,” Kara smiled through her tears. “Thank you so much for not giving up on me, for coming after me, for being my big sister.”

“Always,” Alex smiled, her tears streaming down her cheeks as Kara gripped her harder.

>>>

And Then There Were Two

Kara stood up from her knees and made her way towards the striking brunette sitting at the control panel on the far side of the bridge. Unshed tears were filling Lena’s eyes as she focused on the blue eyes that were moving towards her.

Kara finally reached Lena, her breathing and heartbeat loud in her ears.

Lena stood, her hands folded in front of her, fingers twisting, her lower lip grasped tightly between her teeth.

“Hey you,” Kara whispered. “Thank you.”

Words spilled from Lena’s lips, “I’m so, so sorry. I should have known, I tried to find you, Lex is staying. I missed you so…”

Kara chuckled lightly, as tears ran down her cheeks, “Lena, I’m going to kiss you now, and if you will have me, I’m going to spend the rest of my life kissing you and saying thank you for saving me.”

Lena sucked in a breath, but once again words failed her and she simply nodded. Parched lips met hers and she snaked her arms around Kara’s neck, pulling her forward, and deepening the kiss. Kara smiled and sighed as Lena’s tongue flicked over her teeth and pushed its way deeper.

“I missed you, Kara,” Lena smiled as they broke apart.

“I missed you too, Zhao,” Kara said as she leaned in for a second kiss.

>>>

The Tower

The ship docked with the tower, and the crew disembarked, everyone heading towards the medical bay.

As Kara reached the doors, a huge grin came to her face when she noticed Cat and M’gann waiting for her to walk through...

#supercorp #kara x lena #karlena #karadanvers #lenaluthor #fanfiction #comment please #hope you like <3

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Whumpay 2021: Day 27 - Accident

Missing All the Fun

read on ao3 1636 words graphic depictions of violence, star wars, the clone wars, prequels, obi-wan kenobi, anakin skywalker, hurt!obi-wan kenobi, fighter accident

Blast, this is why I hate flying.

Obi-Wan considered himself an excellent pilot (though he would never say so), but he still hated anything to do with flying. He wasn’t sure which he hated more, Anakin flying, or himself having to go into battle in his fighter.

Right now it was definitely the latter because if Anakin had been flying, perhaps his ridiculously fancy moves could have prevented all this. And by all this, well… First Obi-Wan had been fighting against the Separatist fleet, no problem, and then his ship had been shot at by vulture droids. Maneuvering away from those had caused him to crash into another fighter. His engines had died, but with nothing stopping his ship it just kept on moving. Now it’d been pulled into the planet’s orbit.

He didn’t fancy landing down there. All he saw as the ship was dragged in were mountains of ice and snow dotted with vast forests of deep green conifers.

Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, before he was within the atmosphere, the controls short-circuited, then overheated, and there was a fire in his cockpit. Problem with that was that the pressure was increasing. Increase enough, and… boom!

Not very pleasant, Obi-Wan decided.

The oxygen was decreasing too, the fire feeding off of it.

“Arfour, can’t you do anything about this?” Obi-Wan asked, voice pitched high with panic.

The droid beeped a non-committal answer at him even as she got to work.

In a few moments the computer was back online, except there was still the issue of the fire.

Arfour screeched and whirred at Obi-Wan as the ship plummeted into the atmosphere.

“No, no use,” he said, trying desperately to pull up. All that did was have the ship tilt wildly and then start barrel-rolling. Oh great. “Left engine’s still dead!” Arfour snapped at him. “Well, can you at least lower the pressure?” Obi-Wan asked, trying hard to not panic as the air became too hot, and his ears popped, and sweat was immediately soaked up from his body into the hot, dry air.

He tried to get control of the ship, feeling about it with the Force for some way to fix this predicament.

“Master, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?” Anakin asked.

Finally, someone who would know what to do.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Obi-Wan argued.

Arfour sent him a message over the screen, and despite all the spinning and careening, he was able to take it in.

He tried to kill the engines, and thankfully air resistance and turbulence began to slow him down.

But still, there was Arfour’s plan.

“Are you serious?” he cried at her. “An explosion? Anakin, Arfour’s going to set off a controlled explosion on the ship.”

“With your pressure out of control that’s actually a great idea.”

Obi-Wan would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t being thrashed about the cockpit.

“Of course he agrees with the droid,” he muttered.

“Arfour,” Anakin commanded, “hurry.”

“What?”

“Only way to depressurize the cockpit. Either that or I break the glass and you get sucked out and mercilessly crushed.”

“No, no thanks. I think I’ll stick with… with blowing up.”

Everything was beginning to grow blurry, the heat pressing in on him, smoke filling his lungs. He couldn’t even cough, had to just sit there and suffer from the forces around him that were out of his control.

The heat in the cockpit was rerouted to the back of the fighter, and a burst of explosion had the pressure returning to normal. Cold air filtered in, beginning to clear the smoke. Obi-Wan was relieved at being able to breathe properly again.

The explosion rocketed the ship forward and down, and Anakin began to join him in the insane dive.

“If I can attach my cables—”

“No use,” Obi-Wan said after a cough, gasping. “Your ship will just get caught up in this whole mess.”

Still, Anakin tried to attach the cable.

The cable attached just fine, but now his engines had to work doubly hard to try and slow the momentum of Obi-Wan’s fighter.

It pulled Anakin’s own fighter along, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he heard his former Padawan laughing. Laughing!

“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this.”

“And you’re not?”

“I hate flying.”

“Don’t worry, Master. I got you.”

More cables were attached, and at the right angles to minimize the amount Anakin’s engines would have to work.

Obi-Wan’s ship slowed, but they couldn’t get it to stop.

It hit the trees, Anakin’s fighter detaching just beforehand, and then it collided with the icy, rocky ground.

~~~

The cockpit was being forced open when Obi-Wan came to. It was something he could feel more than he could see. Blood was dripping into his eyes, and his head absolutely ached. His whole body ached, his spine feeling as if it had been ripped from his body and then put back piece by piece in the wrong order. His tailbone and hips and even his pelvis were alight with pain, like it was some substance he’d been injected with.

Bitingly cold air met him, and then strong hands grabbed him. Groaning, he was dragged from the cockpit.

An arm wiped over his face, and he blinked open his eyes. Oh, fantastic. The world was spinning.

He tried to fight it, but it was too much. Anakin’s worried face amongst a cold, clear day swam in his vision. He closed his eyes, moaning in distress.

“Don’t worry, I called down a gunship. Kix and some of the other guys are on their way. Are you alright?”

“It’s bloody cold!” Obi-Wan complained.

Anakin must’ve shed his robe because then Obi-Wan was being lifted up, and it was being placed between him and the snow. The upper part of his body was dragged into Anakin’s lap.

A droid nudged at his arm, an arm he wished he could pull back from the stingingly frigid metal.

“Arfour…” he got out.

“Yes, she’s fine. Hey, Artoo, leave it! We’ll have to take his fighter back to a cruiser and get it fixed up there. There’s nothing you can do.”

“How… How bad is it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You or the ship?”

Obi-Wan tried to laugh, but that jarred him too much, and he curled into Anakin, groaning in pain.

“Both.”

“Ship’s worse than you, so that’s good.”

“Well I can’t imagine what condition it’s in if I feel like this.”

“I did a scan before I got you out. Nothing’s broken.”

“Joy.”

Obi-Wan began to shiver in the cold. Anakin was as well, but he didn’t complain. Years ago he would’ve. Years ago he was a boy whose only concept was dastardly dry heat that felt like it could suck out one’s very will to live. Now here he was in the cold, probably turning blue like Obi-Wan, yet all he did was hold him, remain sturdy for him.

Guilt struck him at that, when his bleary and addled brain could make sense of it. He was the master wasn’t he? He was supposed to take care of Anakin. Not the other way around.

Yet there he was, holding him, doing what he could to shield him from the wind.

“We’re in the atmosphere, approaching your location now,” Obi-Wan heard through the comms, but didn’t really make sense of it.

His legs were beginning to have sharp pains shooting down them. There wasn’t much that could be done for now. He just hoped beyond hope that sometime soon someone would put a large, cushy pillow under his hips.

Anakin temporarily removed his arm from Obi-Wan and said into the comms, “Good, you’re missing all the fun.”

The wind picked up as the gunship came in. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, not able to take not fully knowing what was going on. Anakin swam in his vision. Besides that, his vision was beginning to work fine. But the information his brain was getting began to make less and less sense.

Anakin spoke, his voice seeming to be traveling through a vast tunnel, “Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. You’re gonna be alright.”

Obi-Wan reached up for him with a trembling arm, tried to nod, and then he lost all sense.

~~~

“Here!” Anakin called through the flurry of snow, waving his arm to get the attention of Kix and the men. They rushed over, and Anakin reluctantly relinquished his master to their care.

“Can your fighter get off-world?” Boil asked.

“I’ll be fine. Just get him stable and make sure he gets back to his cruiser in one piece. I’ll be along shortly. And get Arfour on board!”

“Right away, sir.”

Fives was shouting orders, and getting to work, even as the stretcher took Obi-Wan away.

Boil stayed behind to place a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and just from that simple touch, he felt some of the tension coiled tight in him bleed out of him. “Don’t worry, sir. He’ll be okay. You did good.”

Anakin nodded, and grasped his arm. “You did too. Okay, get him home.”

With a nod, Boil was off, jogging to join the rest of the men.

“Force, it’s karking cold,” Anakin complained, body shuddering painfully as he climbed to his feet. “Artoo, come on. We still have a fight to win.”

Artoo beeped in excitement, and Anakin laughed.

Before he got into his fighter, he spared one last glance for Obi-Wan. The gunship doors slid closed.

Right. Now time to focus.

Anakin fired up the thrusters and the engines and took off. Through the comms he said, “Blue squadron, I’m coming back to you.”

“Good, we saved some blaster fire for you,” Broadside answered.

With a fierce grin, Anakin responded, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His fighter left the atmosphere, and then orbit. Back into the fray.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #hurt!obi-wan kenobi #whump #tw: graphic depictions of violence #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried.

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.

“Well, do you know where she is?”

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”

A victim?

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he?

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.

“So does your Jungkook do film too?”

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”

“God this is so weird.”

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”

“Done and done.”

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Will you… fall in love with me again?”

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

When you wake up, it’s loud.

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #goldenclosetnet #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff

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sardonic-at-heart · 4 years

Text

Last Date

I wanted to make this the first chapter for the series related to Fragile where it’s all flashbacks of Sam’s memories with Mika, but then I wrote the end of this fic and said to myself, “Yeaaahhhh maybe not.” You’ll see why I changed my mind. Enjoy!

Summary: Tipsy Mika and steak eater Sam enjoy a night out together.

It was a comforting and delightful thought to know that even after two years of marriage, Sam was still captivated with his wife like the very first time he realized he fell for her. Her smile, her laugh, her blush. Every quirk she had he loved, because it all unequivocally defined Mika Anderson.

As he listened to her talk about her day now, he couldn’t help the smile creeping at the corners of his lips at her enthusiasm.

She stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes. “Why are you grinning? I’m talking about waiting in line for three hours just to get my driver’s license renewed.”

He chuckled. “You just look really great tonight, is all.”

And she did. She was wearing her lace plum dress, a recent favorite she bought a few months ago. He loved the way the skirt swished around her legs like a princess he saw her as. Her long black hair was swept in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. Picturesque and effortlessly beautiful.

Any man would worship the ground she walked on and Sam didn’t mind swallowing his pride to do so if given the opportunity.

“W-wha—” There it was: that famous blush he enjoyed causing so much. And that cute stammering she did when she couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Sorry. Go on, I’m listening.”

“How am I supposed to continue after you caught me off guard like that!”

He smirked. “You thank me for being the best husband in the world and compliment me back.”

She huffed, lips in a pout.

“What else did you do today?” He changed the subject for her sake. Because he was the best husband in the world.

“I went grocery shopping because we were out of eggs.”

“Thanks again for buying it.”

“I didn’t mind,” she grinned. “It was a good excuse to also go out with my friends and try this new gelato place Suzu showed us. We need to go back so you can try it! The key lime pie flavor was very light and refreshing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “They were supposed to be getting ready for their flight to Italy today.”

Mika waved dismissively. “Naomi made sure Suzu packed a few days ago.”

Sam chortled. Suzu wasn’t exactly the type to plan anything. At all. Luckily her fiancée was a lot more responsible than her and kept her important dates in check.

They postponed their conversation momentarily when a waiter came to their table. He ordered well done steak (which always made his wife grimace at his “lack of taste”) and she ordered garlic shrimp pasta. She took a glance at the alcohol menu, and he grinned at how her eyes sparkled once she found white wine to pair with her dish.

“How was your day?” Mika asked.

“Don’t get me started,” Sam grumbled.

“Hey, I had my chance to rant about my day, so it’s only fair you do the same.”

He smiled briefly before it soured into a scowl. “A lot of paperwork. Again. That’s why I was late coming over here.” He paused. “Sorry for that, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. You don’t have to apologize.”

“You sure? How long did you have to wait?”

“Sam. I’m sure now and I’ll always be sure the next time you ask. And it was just five minutes.”

His expression twisted in guilt. “If I’d been here at least five minutes earlier—”

She let out an exasperated chuckle. “Sam. I’ve known for quite a while that your job makes you incredibly busy and I understand that you’ll be late sometimes. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He measured her with a stare, taking in her relaxed smile and green eyes with an earnest gleam, and then conceded with a sigh.

Mika’s smile brightened knowing she’d won.

Their dinner and wine arrived then and, because Sam knew she always did this when it came to food and Instagram, he leaned back in his seat so she could take a couple pictures of their dishes. Or ten. She made sure to take them at different angles, even though it was the same freaking thing in every shot. He would have laughed at her ridiculous positions and silly expressions scrunched in concentration, but he was getting hungry the longer her photo session dragged on.

“Take your last shot right now or I’m going to eat your shrimp,” he threatened.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled before she frowned at her screen. “Wait, that was a little blurry. Let me do it again—hey!”

He warned her, but she didn’t listen.

She finally put away her phone with a glare that lost its edge as she pouted. “If your steak wasn’t so charred I’d do the same.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” he cut a piece while snickering.

They talked a bit about their favorite band’s album that had been released recently while they enjoyed their food. There were rumors that one of their new songs would be featured in a video game Sam liked to play and he hoped it was true.

She showed him the pictures she took this morning for Sammy’s Instagram and he chuckled at how adorable the Rottweiler was curled up in his new bed. Once in a while Sam heard the sound of a camera snapping, but when he turned to his wife she acted like he was just hearing things. She was probably taking more pictures again. He let it go with a shrug and kept eating.

After they had finished a delectable chocolate mousse cake, Sam was quick to pay for the bill before Mika could reach for her wallet. Luckily she was tipsy enough to thank him with a noisy kiss instead of insisting she should take care of it like she always did.

He suggested they do a night stroll to gaze at the city lights and she happily agreed, giggling to herself at a joke only she could hear. When she was in this state it was best to have her walk around a few minutes until she had a clear head. He wasn’t planning to repeat the last time she drank too much.

She tripped a few times and he threw his head back and laughed while helping her up. To his relief she was able to walk like a normal person after ten minutes, but then she took out her phone and randomly recorded them together for reasons that were lost on him. He took note to keep an eye out for her newest post later.

Sam heard her light snores as he parked his truck in their driveway and he chuckled to himself. As much as he loved the sight of his wife asleep, he couldn’t let her anywhere near the bed with her dress and her makeup still on. Reaching over to unbuckle her seatbelt, Sam swept her in his arms and made his way inside. Their Rottweiler perked from his sleeping position when his owners entered the bedroom and yipped in an energetic greeting.

“Sammyyyy,” Mika groaned, opening her bleary eyes. “Inside voice.”

He kept yipping.

Sam placed her in their bathroom and motioned her to shower. “Going to take him outside. Don’t fall asleep in there, okay?”

She mumbled her response and closed the door. He made sure to hear the sound of the showerhead turning on before carrying Sammy to the backyard. It only took a couple minutes for him to relieve himself, and Sam spent an extra few minutes to clean it up and chase him around to expend all that excitable energy. It made feeding and refilling his water dispenser much easier that way.

He made sure Sammy’s paws were clean and dry and then let the little rascal run up the dog stairs at the end of their bed and over to where Mika lay, snuggling up to her side on the left. Eyes half open but still aware of what was going on around her, she cooed and petted him as Sam left to take a quick shower as well.

“Still up?” He asked when she glanced at him as he climbed into bed.

“I wanted to stay up until you joined me.”

“I’m here,” he lazily rested his arm around her waist. “Get some shut eye.”

She hummed her assent, leaning in to kiss him. “Tonight was lovely. Thank you for being the best husband in the world.”

“Anytime, doofus.”

“I should pay you back.”

“Wait, what—”

“Because you paid for dinner and I need to return the favor.”

“Mika, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she looked so determined that Sam didn’t have the heart to argue. “How about I bring you a home cooked meal at lunch time tomorrow?”

Oh, okay. He was fine with that. “Sure thing. Text me when you’re there?”

She nodded, closing her eyes. “Yup. Night, Sam. I love you.”

“I love you,” he pressed a kiss on her and Sammy’s forehead and turned off the lights, hoping to get enough sleep for tomorrow’s shift.

Want more? Read my fics here!

#seduce me otome #seduce me the otome #amnesia au related #sam aomaris #sam anderson #mika anderson #fluff #but is it?

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nevervalentines · 4 years

Note

(From the fluff/general list)

“Any RWBY ship! 12 or 13 :)”

#12 “how did you get in here?”

#13 “for starters, that’s impossible.”

hi!!! thank u!!! I wrote u a lil baby bumbleby high school au, I hope that’s ok!! they’re girlfriends and they are SO annoying

*******

Taiyang has never been very good at dolling out punishments, but when Yang comes home from school dragging her feet for the second week in a row, he really doesn’t have a choice.

She looks miserable, flannel tied loosely around her waist, ponytail messy, sporting a shiner that’s reddened the skin around her right eye, along her cheekbone. Already inflamed, it promises to bruise, and he thinks that should be punishment enough. But.

“They already called, huh?” Yang slumps up the front porch steps. “Would it help if I told you he started it?”

Taiyang rubs at the back of his neck. “Your principal said otherwise.” He cringes, trying to soften the delivery. “Apparently there were witnesses. Something like – your entire gym class?”

“Mercury had it coming.” Yang stops on the top step. Her backpack dangles from one arm, dragging the ground. “Can’t the fact that he clocked me back be enough?” She waves a hand. “I learned my lesson, and all that.”

“Afraid not, baby girl. This is the second time in as many weeks.” He corrals her gently into the house and roots through the freezer, tossing her an icepack while he deliberates. “A grounding is fair, right?” More to himself than anybody. “A week, maybe?”

“Can I still see –”

“No visitors. That means no Blake, too.”

“An entire week!” Yang slams the icepack onto the kitchen counter. The blue liquid sloshes, the plastic pouch threatening to pop. “That’s bullshit.”

“Okay,” he says, exasperated, now. “Room. Now. Don’t let Ruby hear you talking like that.”

The muscles in Yang’s jaw tick, heat rolling off her in waves, but she pinches her mouth tight. If her eyes flash, he doesn’t mention it, just watches her stomp toward the staircase. Hears fading footsteps, the slam of her bedroom door.

When music starts blaring, he allows it, riot grrrl punk pop spitting from around the door frame. He can picture her pouting, touting loud music and bruised knuckles like armor. Figures he’ll let it slide, just until after dinner. A week without Blake might be consequence enough.

Yang reclines on rumpled sheets, too pissed to change out of her day clothes, shoes kicked up on her bed, arms behind her head.

A five-day suspension, a week without seeing Blake. It’s a promise of purgatory and, worse, boredom. Her eye throbs, the skin around the socket already softening into a bone deep hum of pain.

Time passes in blurry pigments; she swims in and out of a doze while the day fades into a sticky-blue dusk. She ignores her dad’s calls for dinner, ignores Ruby’s hesitant knock on the door, lets the room darken around her – watches the sky outside ripen and split.

It’s almost summer now, and the box fan churns uselessly at her bedside, the skin of her back is sticky with sweat, the sheets below her cloying and damp. Outside, the streetlights wink on, one by one, and the blurry white noise of the fan is almost enough to mask the scrabbling outside her window. Almost.

When Blake’s head pops over the windowsill, Yang about pisses her pants. Blake grins, her teeth a flash of white in the darkness, ears on a swivel, pressing her face close to the wire mesh of the window screen.

Bleary and half-asleep, with Blake only a silhouette against a rapidly darkening sky, it’s like Yang has conjured her directly out of a dream.

Blake’s voice is strained, leveraging herself up on her forearms. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Then. “Let me in, edgelord.”

Yang scrambles out of bed, heart in her throat, fumbles the screen’s latch open, helps Blake haul herself over the sill. Two hands under her arms, she pulls, Blake’s sneakers scraping against the paneled siding of the house.

Blake tumbles inside the bedroom, landing on top of Yang with an oof. She ushers in the sharp smell of fresh cut grass, cool nighttime air, summer-sweet.

“How did you get in here?” Yang sounds a little breathless, even to her own ears, and Blake settles more comfortably on top of her, so pleased with herself that Yang has to actively stop herself from kissing her smug smile away.

“Your window is right above the garage,” Blake says. She shifts her weight, forcing Yang to bow into the close weave of her room’s carpet. “I just had to get up there and,” a vertical shrug, a grin, “it was easy.”

“I’m grounded for a week,” Yang says, a little despairing, mouth tilting into a pout. “My dad says I can’t see you.”

“It’s dark, you can, like, hardly see me anyway,” Blake says. She wriggles on top of her, curls her fingers into the fabric of Yang’s tank top. “You’re kind of sweaty.”

“Did you climb up the side of my house just to insult me?” Yang asks. She feels a surge of affection so strong, she wonders if it might break something inside her, like there’s no more room left in her chest for anything but this: Blake smiling, nuzzling close. Blake’s slight frame settled in the sling of her hips, the too-warm press of the bare skin of her legs against Yang’s, one ankle hooked around her own.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Blake says. She ducks her head, rests her chin on Yang’s chest, looking up at her through her lashes. “And seeing as I found you crying in the dark, I made the right call.”

Yang struggles up onto her arms, dislodging Blake who sits back on her calves, amused.

“I wasn’t crying.” This, almost a yell, before she remembers herself and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “I was just upset.”

Sobering, Blake rocks to her feet, reaching down to tangle her hand with Yang’s and pull her to a stand. She pushes her onto the edge of her mattress, touches her cheek, gentle, careful to avoid the bruise.

Yang’s eyes are adjusting now, and she can just make out the soft-round of Blake’s face, the flat glint of her eyes in the dark.

“I know, baby.” Blake’s voice is throaty, a little sweet.

She kneels, unlacing Yang’s converse one by one, tugging them off before kissing her knees, her ankles. Yang says nothing, just watches Blake in a daze, breath hitched high in her throat, a rosy blush mottling the long line of her throat.

“I’m sorry you’re grounded,” Blake says. She pushes Yang to her back and follows, climbing back on top of her. This time, Yang has enough sense to wrap her arms around Blake’s back, tugging her securely against her until they press close, chest to chest.

“I don’t even get why,” Yang says. A pout. “He was talking shit about you, everybody heard it.”

She tilts her face up, hoping for a kiss. Blake retreats, just barely, nudging her nose with her own, instead. When she talks, Yang can feel her breath against her mouth.

“You did punch Mercury in the face, Yang.”

“It was gym class, it was an accident.”

“You guys were – you guys were playing badminton.”

“Mistakes happen.”

“You were opposite sides of the net.”

Yang looks at her sideways, sly. “Like I said.”

“For starters, that’s impossible.” Blake tucks her lips into her mouth, suddenly shy. “But also – thank you.” She leans in, brushes a kiss against Yang’s jaw. “You know I don’t need you to fight my battles –”

She quiets Yang’s immediate noise of agreement with another kiss, this time at the corner of her mouth.

“— but it was really sweet.”

“I missed you,” Yang says, a hint of a whine. She traces a hand down Blake’s back, slips it under the edge of her shirt, strokes a finger along her hip.

“It’s only been five hours, Yang.” Blake’s voice is soft with laughter, almost adoring, and she leans down, offers another kiss, this time to the apple of her cheek. “But maybe the week apart can start tomorrow.”

“Or maybe the day after that,” Yang says. She tilts her head up, splays the flat of her hand against Blake’s back, urging her closer. “He didn’t really specify when.”

“You’re so smart,” Blake whispers.

She eases against her, t-shirts rucking up, pressed breasts-to-belly-to-hip, the oscillation of the fan drowning Blake’s whimper as Yang slips a thigh between her legs and grins, all teeth and flush.

Blake kisses her, full, nudges carefully, lip to lip, until Yang opens her mouth, hands tightening at her back.

“Stay a while,” she says, rolls her tongue into Blake’s mouth, feels Blake’s hand come up to pet, soft, at the skin underneath her eye.

“Just for a minute,” Blake says, then presses back in, a breeze stirring warm air through the open window.

It’s mid-morning when Ruby shoves open the bedroom door, Yang and Blake curled close under the sheets, asleep. They jar awake at the noise, Yang’s arm tightening around Blake’s back.

Ruby sticks her face inside, hair tousled with sleep, rubbing her eyes with a fist. Her words crack with a yawn, and she blinks at them slowly.

“Hi, Blake. By the way, Yang, dad says you’re double grounded, but also to let you both know breakfast is ready.”

She closes the door behind her and Blake’s laugh follows her all the way down the stairs.

#my writing #rwby #bumbleby #i tried to speed write so i didnt overthink it!#blake WOULD and WILL terrorize all of her gf's parental figures thx 4 ur time #hearticho

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passable-talent · 4 years

Text

within the world of markiplier lore... set during the events of A Heist with Markiplier.

this fic is based off the brilliant and fascinating comic by @iiipeashy , using his character insert for the canonical y/n. this will all make a little more sense if you’ve read the comic, so please do... good shit!!!

I got permission before I used it! and if you’re at all interested in the additional backstory (more than I go into here), DEFINITELY check it out. fascinating plot, FANTASTIC art, and FOOD for all of us damien lovers out there. all the love @iiipeashy !!

Griffin knew that making a deal with Mark was akin to making a deal with the devil, but he didn’t realize just how bad it would be.

He should have known when Mark mentioned Damien that any reunion wouldn’t be the one he wanted, but he couldn’t help but take the deal anyway- if Mark could get him out of the mirror, wouldn’t the price be worth it?

Whatever the price may be?

Living in the van was annoying, and dealing with Mark even moreso, but ultimately, the job wasn’t so bad. He was out of the mirror, and he could walk again, live again.

You wouldn’t think you’d miss the sound of footsteps. You do.

Being used as bait, though, wasn’t quite as appetizing. Griffin hadn’t known what Mark meant at the time, but he would come to.

Thirty-one different endings for his little choose-your-own-adventure. One of them even involved Wil, which was quite a shock, but ended up being quite nice, to see an old friend again. Even if he wasn’t the same as when Griffin had seen him last. Thirty-one different endings, and it took weeks, agonizing weeks to film them all. Finally, though, Griffin was filming the last one- number thirty one. This time, he was going to be ‘murdered’ by the sewer cult, faceless figures that Mark conjured up, or roped into his game, just like Griffin. He knew the script, he knew the turns he had to make, he knew what he had to show to the camera strapped to his chest.

But things started going off script.

Immediately, Griffin’s head started pounding, and he looked down, shutting his eyes tightly to try to regain his balance. When he looked up, his surroundings had changed into a old hallway, one he swore he recognized, but he couldn’t place from where.

It was obvious that this wasn’t something Mark planned. That wasn’t Mark’s style- confusing Griffin like this would just lead to more takes, which would lead to wasted time, and Mark didn’t care for wasted time. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Mark’s doing.

A clank from his left made Griffin flinch, and turn, and the sight before him was something that rattled him to the core. On this bleary, colorless brick wall, an ornate frame, lit by a single light- with Mark’s personal chef pictured within it, his eyes scribbled out. Griffin’s head pounded, an echo punching through his skull, of the chef’s words, one of the last times Griffin had talked to him.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my kitchen!”

The phone that Mark had given him as a prop vibrated in Griffin’s pocket, and he fished it out immediately- it wasn’t even supposed to be on. But from an unknown number, he read an unsettling text, his eyes straining to pick out the words on a bright screen against his pounding headache.

Aren’t you tired of it?

Tired of what, Griffin begged to ask, but the dark hallway and the pounding headache made him drop the phone to the side, hoping to focus on one problem at a time. Another clank, this time from his right, forced him to turn, this time to see a photo of the butler, who disappeared from the mansion before Griffin was shot.

“Master would be so displeased! If only he were still alive!”

Every word rocked its way through Griffin’s head, splitting it open with a headache like none he’d experienced since... since he was put in the mirror, actually, all those years ago. When Damien and Celine left him there. The forced expulsion from his own body as it was taken by the siblings had driven a nail between his two temporal lobes, and he hadn’t felt pain like it since. Until now, that is. What was going on?

Another text, and Griffin lifted the phone again, focusing on the words as quickly as he could through the blurriness of detail around him. He didn’t need his glasses anymore, not since he’d gone in the mirror, but with his headache, the pixels of the letters blended together.

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

Well, yeah, but wasn’t that Mark’s point? Who was texting him, anyway? How was this possible? The phone wasn’t even meant to be on.

A light to his left made Griffin look over, and he found a portrait this time of the detective- Abe, his one-time partner. He was an oddball, but Griffin wished him the best... didn’t Wil shoot him?

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god-damn gorgeous.”

Once again the phone vibrated, cutting through his splitting headache, which pounded through every echo of every word that Abe said, the sound swirling around him. It wasn’t from some speaker, but it wasn’t inside Griffin’s head, either. It was some combination of the two, hallucination, yet, experience.

No one seems to question it.

The end of the hallway was approaching fast as Griffin stumbled down it, and the last painting within the room was of Wil, his old friend. That weekend at the manor was all the time Griffin had ever gotten to know him, but he felt fondness for him, for all that he went through. Besides- he was the only one who was as willing to fight for Damien and Celine as Griffin was, when everyone else was ready to leave. He not only had his eyes crossed out, but also, the pink mustache was drawn large and curly over his face. Wilford Warfstache, as he had become. Griffin’s eyebrows turned up, his headache making him squint, but still feeling regret at the fate that Wil had suffered, descending into his madness.

“I thought that it was about time that we got to know each other. Far from the prying eyes of...”

The noise continued, but Griffin fought through it, reading the last text he received, this one making four. And he didn’t even know who’d sent them.

But I thought you’d see through it.

All that was left was a door at the end of the hall, and Griffin pushed through it, hoping to find an end, or at least a reprieve. He wasn’t so lucky.

“...anyone else.”

He emerged into a black room, vast yet confining, the whole of it impressing a feeling of both claustrophobia and vulnerability onto Griffin. Spotlights clicked on, leading him forward to one final painting- of Mark himself. Now he was sure that Mark wasn’t behind this.

“But it’s not about me... it’s about you! And who knows... I could be dead tomorrow.”

The eerie laughter and crumbling of the portrait made Griffin cringe away, as though the words he was hearing was putting him back into the mindset he’d had, so long ago, when he didn’t understand Mark’s villainy, nor any of the supernatural forces pushing and pulling at both Griffin’s destiny, and everyone else that Mark surrounded himself with. Griffin hadn’t known, that night, that he was speaking the truth of his own future, through a plan he was acting out. He was always acting.

“Same snake... different skin.” Griffin found that these words didn’t come with a headache, and shut his eyes tightly to push away what he felt, in that moment. Because he would recognize that voice anywhere. That voice, that he’d first heard when they were roommates in a university, and again when they were both trying to make a career in public service. That voice, that belonged to his husband, who chose him to be the district attorney shortly after being elected as mayor.

Damien?

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs... his lies.” Griffin whirled to his left, finding that familiar figure, but instead of the peaceful and honest expression he was so used to seeing on Damien’s face, instead he saw an eerie smile, and Griffin’s eyes fought against the red and blue shift of Damien’s figure in front of him. When a duplicate appeared, like a shadow, with it came a sound that slammed against Griffin’s ears, the force of it almost knocking him sideways.

“I always thought that you were... t̵̮͊r̶̯͒ả̶̮p̴͚͠p̴̗̋e̶͚͐d̵̗͒ in his games.” The sounds continued, always accompanying some terrifying change in his appearance, like he wasn’t really supposed to exist in the three dimensional world.

“Perpetually p̷̙͑l̵̠̋u̵̻̾ṇ̷̋ḡ̴̲i̸̠̍n̸͎̈́g̸̓ͅ down the rabbit holes of his stories.” There was something about this that seemed familiar to Griffin, the way that Damien’s words echoed around him, and back, but deeper, darker.

I am, Griffin tried to say, but found that when he opened his mouth, no sound would come out, and Damien didn’t even react as though he’d tried.

“Helpless,” Damien said, and Griffin tried again, trying to say the same words, I am, I am trapped, but nothing would leave his throat, as though someone had flipped the ‘off’ switch on his voice box.

“Lost.” Damien’s words now seemed only to mock Griffin as he lifted one hand to his throat, and tried again, to force out any sound he could, but he just couldn’t.

“I̸̠͛ ̵̦̏k̵̪̉n̵̩͌o̷͈̐ẅ̷͇ ̴̠͛t̷́ͅȟ̴͕e̶͑ͅ ̴̢̇f̶͎̌e̷͚̊e̸͔͘l̴̝̃i̵̻͗n̴͚̊ḡ̶͍,” Damien growled, his glitching and shifting intensifying, hammering more pain through Griffin’s skull, worsening his feelings of helplessness, because he couldn’t cry out in pain, like the pain itself was shifting between dimensions, just like Damien’s form, just like Selene’s voice.

“Perhaps I̶̬͆'̴̹̉m̵̠̕ the crazy one,” Damien suggested, and finally Griffin realized where he had felt this particular pain before, where he had seen such shifting and glitching.

When Selene brought him to that... shadow realm.

“Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it.” Griffin gripped at his throat again, not moving and yet keeping pace with Damien as he walked, trying to just break through to him- this tortured being who he was once married to.

Damien, he tried to say, but he couldn’t make a sound, and Damien continued on, apathetic, indifferent.

“Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself, over, and over, and over, and over, a̸̡̓n̶̠͋d̶͓͌ ̸̭̀ō̵̪ṿ̸̊è̶̡r̷͋͜ ̵̱͗ă̸͕ğ̶̠ä̶̟́í̶̹n̵͚̑.” Every echo and screech and ringing in the massive and yet confining room felt like a needle into Griffin’s brain, and he gripped his throat tighter, his other hand trying to put pressure onto his head, as though it would help.

Damien, please-

“Maybe you just miss my pretty face.” Damien’s eyes went dark, and Griffin found himself on the verge of tears, the powerlessness of his position breaking him down. Damien was in pain- and he didn’t even talk as though he knew who Griffin was. Didn’t he?

“It doesn’t matter. People like you only want one thing.” A red shift beside Damien let out a scream, making Griffin flinch backward, his chest feeling so heavy.

Damien!

“And it’s disgusting.” Damien zipped around, his form reappearing closer to the table he now stood behind, and reached down to pick up a wine glass full of something that didn’t really look like water. “You want answers.” He looked down, losing that eerie smile, and Griffin wondered briefly what such a break in his expression could mean.

“Well,” Damien lifted the glass, and the higher he raised it, the more black the liquid inside became. “Games were always ẖ̷̎ḯ̸͜ș̴̈́ forte.” He paused to drink, and phased for a moment, his stance changing.

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

Damien, please, fucking hear me-

Griffin was thrown backwards, smacking his spine against the wooden back of a chair, and he realized he was sitting in front of the warden’s desk from the prison set. His vision shot around, trying to pick up any sort of clue, but then it landed on the box, in Damien’s hand. That damn box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He phased into the warden’s chair, sitting across from Griffin, and looked down at the box.

Griffin tried to scream. But he couldn’t.

“Do you really want to know what’s inside this box?” And truthfully, Griffin couldn’t care less. He didn’t care for the silly little setpiece that Mark had conjured for his delusional, rabid fans. Maybe he would have been curious, once, but not with his tortured, lost husband in front of him. Not now.

“The truth. Not the lies he’s told you. The truth.” Griffin ground his teeth together, the hand on his throat still clutching on as though if he squeezed hard enough he could hit the ‘on’ switch of his own voice box.

“Well, I know how much you love good games, and all.” He shifted around, and Griffin’s eyes struggled to keep up with wherever he ended up, the movement throwing his headache against his temples.

“Throughout this... heist, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes.” The symbols blinking behind Damien made a cold realization sink into Griffin’s skin.

Damien wasn’t even talking to him.

“Find them all, and...”

Griffin wasn’t even there, to Damien. He was a vessel to speak to Mark’s audience.

“You’ll get your truth.”

Damien had no idea that he was so close to Griffin, so close, all of this was to talk to the audience, not Griffin. Did Damien even know that Griffin was alive?

“But that’s all I’m gonna give you.”

Out of the void surrounding Griffin came sounds, like the room around him was falling down, crashing to the floor. Rumbling, and Damien was fading away, his expression no longer angry, but fading into quiet sorrow.

No! Griffin tried to yell, and he tried to hold on, but whatever or whoever was pulling him out or pushing him away was too strong for him. Damien faded from his vision with screeching and rumbling and creaking...

And when he opened his eyes, he was on the steps of the museum, at the beginning of the ‘heist’ script.

“No,” He murmured, his voice hollow, and the triumph of hearing his voice again was trumped by Griffin’s soul-consuming anger, sadness, grief, that he’d seen Damien again, but didn’t get to speak with him, and now he was gone, and Griffin had no way back. He fell to his knees, letting the same word rise to a scream of anguish, of defeat, as he looked up at the colorful, happy windows of the closed museum.

Damien had called out, and he’d reached Griffin. And he hadn’t even known it.

Griffin’s resolve hardened, his heart hardened. Any fondness that he may have still been grasping on to for his old friend Mark was gone, and he vowed that he’d destroy Mark.

For what he’d done, for using Griffin to lure in Damien, for everything.

He was going to destroy Mark.

-🦌 Roe

thank u, @iiipeashy , for singlehandedly restoring my motivation to write, if only for an afternoon

#reader insert #y/n #damien x y/n #damien x reader #wkm #wkm damien #wkm y/n #wkm darkiplier #heist with markiplier #a hiest with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #heist darkiplier #heist damien #heist da #wkm da #who killed markiplier #angst #spoilers

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mikkomacko · 5 years

Text

Sweet As Honey 11

Harry had heard a sniffle like that before. He'd heard the unmistakable hiccup of her crying, and the stuttering breathes of her heart aching. But he had never come home to her in such a state.

It's normal to come home to her curled up in his bed, with one of his hoodies and sweatpants on. Sometimes she'd be asleep, or she'd have a movie on like she does right now. However, she's never sat on his bed, body jerking with hiccups against his pillow she's holding, and tears streaming down her red cheeks.

"Darling," he gasps softly, dropping his gym bag at the foot of his bed and kneeing his way up the duvet to where she's huddled against the headboard. He plops down facing her, crossing his legs and reaching forward to cup her face in his left hand. He pushes her hair out of her face with the other, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "hey," he rouses when she doesn't respond. "what's going on? What's the matter?"

His heart pounds in his chest, spreading panic throughout his body until his stomach is twisting uncomfortably and his head is spinning. It doesn't help when y/n meets his eyes, sniffling harshly, and biting at her wobbly bottom lip. Harry doesn't know if she's not answering because she doesn't want to, or if she can't speak around the harsh breaths and hiccups leaving her lips.

She whimpers heartbreakingly when he lodges his hand under her thighs, pulling her into his lap. Without hesitation her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his middle, and her head falls against his shoulder. Harry rubs his palm between her shoulder blade and cups her bum in the other, patting his fingers rhythmically. To his dismay, she still says nothing. Her tears soak into his sweatshirt, and her snot and breath stain his neck but he doesn't care because it's y/n, and she's always taken care of him, and he loves her.

Harry lets her cry, doing all he can to soothe her by rubbing away the knots on her back and pressing kiss after kiss to the crown of her head. "You're okay baby, we're okay. I've got ya and I'll never let anything hurt ya." He soothes, feeling a little calmer with her against his chest. There's no safer place for her to be then right next to the heart that beats for her.

She's squished against him so tightly he's sure she's having a tough time breathing and her hiccups aren't doing her any favors, but he can still hear her when she finally speaks. "P-papa's sick,"

Another round of blubbering cuts her off, body raking with sobs. Harry does nothing to shush her. He holds her, absorbing her heartbreaking whimpers and trying to ignore the sadness seeping into his own heart. Yeah he loves y/n's grandfather, he's the main reason Steve and Marie approve of Harry now, but he's y/n's grandfather. It hurts him, but it sure as hell hurts her a lot more. Besides, he doesn't even know how sick Papa is.

Eventually, the tv gets stuck on Netflix's 'still watching' screen, and Harry's feet go numb, and y/n's cries fade into shakey breathes. She rubs against his shoulder like a kitten, yawning dejectedly, and he decides it's bedtime for them. They can talk about Papa in the morning.

He manages to keep y/n in his lap as he manuevers to the end of the bed and rises, holding her a bit tighter. Her legs and arms lock around him like a baby koala, keeping steady while he uses one hand to tug down the blankets on the bed and rearrange the pillows.

She's reluctant, clinging to his shirt when he lays her on the bed. "S'okay," Harry assures. "s'all ok darling. Getting in bed with ya, I promise."

Her fingers unlatch from his shirt, falling limp on her tummy, and she looks up at him through wet eyelashes and bleary eyes. Harry quickly wiggles out of his pants and tugs off his shirt, keeping his gaze locked on y/n. It's heartbreaking seeing her hurt, but Harry can't help but coo over her. It's usually the other way around with them. Harry always curled up under the covers and drenched in tears while y/n holds him and comforts him. He's just grateful that he gets to take care of her in return.

"Harry,"

"Coming baby," Harry murmurs, climbing over her with a brief pause to kiss her forehead before falling to the mattress next to her. She rolls into his side, laying her head on the inside of his bicep and latching her limbs around him like she had before. He tilts his down to look at her, wiping at the blotchy cheek of hers that's not pressed to his skin.

"What if something bad happens to him?"

His heart throbs at the fear in her voice. He knows how much Papa means to her. He was her babysitter after school up until she was 16. He taught her and Louis to play soccer. He gave her her first art kit when she was a kid. He took her to her first baseball game. He's been get biggest supporter and fan of her work up until Harry came around, and even then he sometimes outdid Harry. Papa is her hero.

"I can't lay here and tell you nothing will happen," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "because we don't know. But I can promise you that you'll always have me. I'll take ya to baseball games and I'll paint with ya and I'll always always always love and take care of ya."

Her bottom lip wobbles, but she still manages to give him a tiny albeit grateful smile. "You promise?"

"Course I promise," he grins, endeared by the pleading look in her eyes. She really thinks he'd ever do anything but care for her? "M'marrying ya. Hope you wouldn't marry someone who wouldn't take care of ya."

She giggles wetly, tears welling up again. Harry knows not to panic this time. She's safe in his arms and he knows crying it all out will make her feel better. He cups the back of her head, pulling her closer to peck her forehead.

"S'okay to cry baby. You'll feel a little better after," she wiggles closer to him until she's practically burrowed in his neck. "and you always sleep so good after you cry too."

True to his word, y/n cries herself out until she's foggy and heavy with sleep, curled up on Harry's warm chest while he plays with her hair. He stays awake for a bit longer, watching The Office through bleary eyes just in case she wakes up still crying. And in the morning, when she wakes up with puffy eyes and a headache, eyes still blurry with tears, he runs her a warm bath and takes her for a cruise to Benny's Drive In, swearing that he's going to spend every day for the rest of his life pampering her. Papa or not, he'll make sure she still has someone to call her hero.

The tile is cold under Harry's bare feet, despite the heater being set on high, and he huffs because he should have just brought a pair of socks down with him when he first got up. As if knowing what he's thinking, y/n giggles from her spot on the floor.

"Why don't you come sit by the fire with us?"

Harry shrugs, setting his tea mug on the coffee table and slipping down to the carpet next to y/n and Arlo. Arlo squeals happily, grinning at Harry as he wobbles on chubby legs, y/n holding his little hands to keep him from falling. He's just recently taught himself to stand up with the help of the couch or coffee table or the legs of whoever's closest. He reaches for Arlo's hands, y/n happily passing him over and then gripping his torso to help him wobble over to Harry.

"Look at you bug!" Harry cheers, feeling a little watery at the sight of his baby now standing. "Gettin' so big aren't ya?"

Arlo giggles, happy to have Harry's attention (he's always greedy when it comes to Harry), and bounces up and down. Harry laughs, heart mushy when y/n lays her head on his shoulder and traces her fingers up and down his thigh. He's glad y/n's pregnant, because he can't imagine how sad it'd make him feel to see Arlo growing up without knowing for sure that they'd be doing the baby thing again.

"Snowing cats and dogs out there." Gemma says, making her presence in the living room known. Harry glances at her, offering a nod in good morning and mentally agreeing that it's snowing quite a bit outside. They went to bed last night to the beginning of tiny flakes and woke up this morning to a blanket of snow and big fluffy flakes still falling.

"I don't think that's the saying Gem." Anne says lightly, following her eldest into the living room. Both Harry and y/n chuckle, Arlo picking up on the sound and letting out a laugh of his own.

"Well good morning Mr. Arlo!" Gemma gasps, sitting on the couch closest to the fireplace.

"Hi," Arlo babbles, a little string of drool dripping down his chin. Y/n laughs, using the bib around his neck to wipe it off.

"He's awful happy this morning." Anne comments, knowing that Arlo's usually quiet and grumpy in the morning, a gift passed onto him from his mother.

"That's 'cause he slept with daddy last night, huh?"

Arlo bounces as if to say yes, stumbling a bit closer to Harry. "S'a good thing we got some good sleep last night. Gotta a busy week ahead of us."

Arlo tugs one of his hands out of Harry's, reaching towards his chest with a tiny whine of "da!" Harry lifts him into his lap, lips twitching into a smile when Arlo rests against his chest.

"Wear yourself out bub?" He laughs, patting Arlo's bum as he climbs to his feet to sit on the couch. He offers a hand to y/n, helping her to her feet so she can sit with him.

"We've got something to ask you," Harry tells Anne and Gemma, subtly wincing when Arlo squirms around his lap, feet dangerously close to stepping on his crotch.

"Oh?" Gemma says curiously, sitting up straighter and focusing on Harry. It's been a bit since they're talk and he knows they're waiting for him to bring up the topic again, but it's still a bit amusing to see them both so rigid over what Harry's planning to ask them.

"Every year my family travels to Colorado for the week before Christmas. It's sort of our early celebration since we've all kinda grown into our own traditions on Christmas," y/n explains, smiling fondly. Harry knows how much fun she has on this family vacation. She loves it so much that last year when they couldn't fly to Colorado since she was pregnant, he drove her across the country because he knows how much it means to her. The only time she's given it up was to come back home early to spend Christmas with Harry because she didn't want him being alone.

"We've talked to Steve and Marie and we all think it'd be nice if you two could come with us." Harry finishes, smirking at the surprise on their faces.

"Y-you want us to go?"

"We all want you to go." Y/n tells Anne, shrugging it off like it's not a big deal that they invite Anne and Gemma.

"We'd love to." Gemma accepts, biting her lip to contain her smile. It's been awhile since she's had a family oriented Christmas and the fact that it's Harry that's pulling them all together is bittersweet.

"On one condition," Harry quickly adds, "you gotta help us get the house together this week, yeah?"

Both of them nod in sync, grinning like two kids on Christmas. Harry's not really sure what to say now but he doesn't have to worry about it because Arlo's pushing away from his chest to look at Harry's face, shouting "da!" at him before shoving his fingers into Harry's mouth. Harry grips his little wrist, pulling Arlo's hand back as he pretends to nibble on Arlo's little fingers with exaggerated gobbling noises.

Arlo squeals with laughs, smacking his other hand to Harry's stubbly cheek. "What do you want?"

"Peas!" Arlo giggles, slurring the 'p' a bit. Harry laughs, excusing himself to take Arlo to the kitchen for baby cereal. He hasn't quite figured out that peas means the vegetable and not all food.

"Thanks for saving daddy bug," he murmurs, taking Arlo to his high chair. Arlo giggles again, smacking at Harry's cheek again. He takes it as a 'you're welcome daddy.'

The lights around the house went up, kudos to Harry and Gemma for working together to attach icicle lights to the roof, and outlined the windows and doors with garland filled lights, and covered the bushes surrounding the house with net-lights. Anne and y/n worked on the inside, lining the stair case and mantel with garland, putting up the tree Harry had brought home after work the other day, and putting out the multiple Christmas throw blankets they owned. Per tradition, y/n left the star for Harry to put up and the stockings, three new ones now hanging with theirs.

Y/n, Gemma, and Anne worked on baking cookies and special treats to leave for Nick and Lionel since they're watching the house for the week, while Harry ran out to the hardware store to get the main baby-proofing objects. Now that Arlo's getting closer to walking and tearing up the house with all his crawling it needs to be done and they know they won't have time to take care of it when they come back since it'll be Christmas.

It wasn't until they're sat in the nursery, Arlo buttoned into a blue onesie patterned with snowmen, attached to y/n's breast for his bedtime meal while Harry packed Arlo's suitcase, that she realizes she's fucking exhausted. So exhausted her bones feel like lead and her head swoop. She thinks she could sleep for the next two days.

"Just need enough diapers for the trip right? We'll get a pack when we get there?"

Y/n mumbles a "yeah," adjusting Arlo so she can burp him now that he's done eating. Fixing the rag on her shoulder, she rises to her feet, bouncing a bit while she pats his back.

"Maybe a few extra? Probably won't want run to the store after traveling all day." Harry asks but he's already tucking extra diapers into the bag. Y/n comes up to him, bouncing next to him as he packs the crocheted booties they got to keep Arlo extra warm in Colorado.

He zips up the bag, pulling it off of the changing table and laying it next to Arlo's little Mickey Mouse printed suitcase. Y/n tosses the soiled burp rag in the hamper, patting Arlo through his diaper to help him get to sleep. By the time Harry gets the dresser and closet closed, and the nightlight switched on, Arlo's fast asleep on her shoulder, subconsciously mouthing at her tee-shirt.

"Little bugger," Harry whispers affectionately, running the tips of his fingers up and down Arlo's back. Y/n gives him a tired smile, one that has Harry frowning because it's been awhile since he's seen her this exhausted. "let's get him a binky and get you two to bed."

She lets Harry carefully pull Arlo off her shoulder, laying him in the crook of his arm. Arlo frowns, lips parting and closing as he searches for something to suck on. Harry grabs one of the clean pacifiers out of the container on the dresser, slipping it between Arlo's mouthing lips.

He chuckles quietly when he feels y/n lean into his back, arms holding his waist loosely, and he doesn't have to see her face to know her eyes are closed. A smirk still plays on his lips as he lays Arlo in his crib, tucking Bunny next to him, and turning to his wife. She murmurs a little protest when he jolts her, rubbing the tip of her nose back and forth between his pecks when she's finally able to rest on him again.

"Why am I so tired?" She murmurs sadly, and Harry chuckles because he can recall a number of times when they were in this same situation during her pregnancy with Arlo.

"'Cause ma little pea is draining ya, darling. Need to sleep, especially after all the work you did this week."

"Little pea? I think it's a little green bean."

Harry dramatically gags, twirling her hair around his finger as she giggles drowsily. "S'my baby. Know it's a pea."

She hums, and he decides it's time to get her to bed. They can make sure they've taken care of everything in the morning, after she's rested. "Up," he instructs, waiting for her arms to go slack, and when they do he easily tugs her up around his waist. Much like Arlo, she snuggles into his neck, legs around his waist as he checks on Arlo once more before exiting the nursery. It's fairly easy get y/n into their bed considering she's been in pajamas all day and they haven't made their bed all week.

He's crawling into bed next to her, pecking her forehead sweetly when she blinks her eyes open, grinning fondly. "Wha'?" Harry chuckles.

"Always take care of me, don't ya?"

"Promised I would."

The chemicals burn his nose and throat, but he ignores it in favor of leading y/n to room 216 so she can get a little peace of mind. She's clutching to his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly and he can feel them trembling between his.

Her parents had stayed in the waiting room with Louis, giving her a chance to come see Papa on her own. Harry was prepared to stay behind too until she'd flashed him pleading, puppy eyes.

Room 216 comes up on their left, the lights inside dimmed and the sound of an old Looney Toons cartoon spilling out from the crack in the door. Harry glances behind him at y/n, waiting to make sure she's okay. Her eyes have glossed over and she's nibbling at her chapped bottom lip but she nods firmly. He knocks once, pushing the door open for them to enter.

Papa lays in the hospital bed, looking smaller than Harry's ever seen him even though he dwarfs the bed, feet hanging off the bottom. He's got oxygen running through tubes into his nose, helping him breathe. Despite the bags under his eyes and the Parkinson's that makes his lips tremble, he smiles at Harry and y/n, the same warm smile he's seen on his girl's face a million times.

"Come on in," Papa croaks, waving them forward with a hand that twitches every minute or so.

Y/n tip toes around Harry, looking at her grandfather with tear filled eyes. She stays glued to his side as if getting too close will make Papa turn to dust.

Their eyes meet, Papa's face falling at the sight of his granddaughter all teary and sad. "Oh y/n," he sighs and that's all it takes to have her crying again. She practically tackles Harry with how hard she presses into his side, gripping his jacket in her hands as her cries fill the room. Harry holds her, smiling sadly at Papa.

"We're a little emotional right now," he explains. "just love ya too much I guess."

Papa smiles gratefully, and knowing that y/n can't talk when she cries decides to tell Harry all the things he would say to y/n.

"No such thing as too much love," Papa chuckles. "and I'm thankful for all the love that's been given to me. I'm okay being here knowing that I had a life of love."

He can feel y/n rotate a little, clearly listening to everything Papa's saying. "We haven't had enough of you." Harry murmurs, stroking y/n's back.

"I've lived my life," he shrugs, "I got to spend so many years with my wife. Got to raise a beautiful family. Passed on stories and lessons to all of you. I couldn't ask for anything else."

"But I don't want you to go!" Y/n sobs into Harry's side, sniffling loudly. Him and Papa exchange similar sad gazes.

"It's okay to be sad y/n, but please don't be angry or selfish." He gently requests. "I want to see what's next. I want to see your grandmother again. I want to see my parents again. You're with your soulmate, let me be with mine please."

They stay quiet, Harry rocking y/n back and forth on her feet until she's calmed down enough to look at Papa. She's still crying, but she nods at his words, squeezing Harry tighter as if trying to confirm that he is, in fact her soulmate.

Harry proves it to her too, doing all in his power to keep her as happy as possible in the following days in which Papa returns to his soulmate, and y/n is left with hers.

They had thought the week at home, running around to make sure everything was ready, was hectic. It was nothing compared to the day of traveling they had. An accident on the highway and an emergency diaper change during TSA had left them stranded at the airport, watching bitterly through the windows as their flight took off without them.

3 hours later in which Harry scheduled everything just right for the next flight while Arlo squirmed and whined in his arms but would cry when he put him down, and napping on uncomfortable chairs, and having to eat airport food, they had made it on their flight. Arlo's car seat was strapped into the middle seat but he absolutely wouldn't sit it, instead opting for standing on Harry's lap while he bounced or napping on y/n's chest. It makes Harry wish they had just checked the stupid thing instead of buying an extra ticket because now he couldn't cuddle up on them with the big plastic seat between them. They had a layover in Dallas, one that was supposed to just drop off a few passengers, refuel, and leave again turned into an hour and a half wait because the tarmac was backed up. Harry had taken the chance to switch seats with Arlo's car seat, grumbling as he squished into the middle seat.

"Stop with the noises, you sound just like this one." Y/n teased through a sleepy smile and sure enough Arlo was sat on her lap, grumpy noises leaving him as he tugged and whipped Bunny's ears around.

"Whatever," he grumbled, relaxing a bit as the plane began to move. As the plane moved faster, Arlo immediately crawled out of y/n's lap and into Harry's, face burrowing into his neck. Their first takeoff had Arlo digging his nails into Harry's bicep and tugging at his necklace until Harry had to swat his hand away before he broke it. Arlo had immediately wailed, more hurt by Harry's scolding then by the swat, and squirmed his way into y/n's hold. Apparently he's still pretty hurt with Harry, biting into his shoulder at the peak of liftoff, and when Harry finally pulls him off he just pouts at Harry with no remorse. Harry had huffed, settling Arlo in his lap as y/n set up her laptop on the tray so they could watch a movie. Things got a bit better after that, Arlo falling asleep and he got to snuggle against y/n while Captain Marvel played in front of them.

By the time they landed in Denver, night had fallen and the roads up the mountains had frozen so Harry had to drive extra careful which also meant extra slow. Gemma switched with him halfway, feeling bad that he'd put the whole trip together and paid for it, so her and Anne took over the front seat, not minding that him and y/n passed out in the backseat.

They arrived at the family cabin around midnight, Steve and Marie being the only two awake. Steve and Harry took the suitcases in, while Marie showed Anne and Gemma to their room (they had to share), while y/n took Arlo to their room upstairs for a quick bath and then put him to bed. She was tucking him into the queen bed in the room when Harry brought up the last of their bags, glad the room was warm because he's too tired to dig through his suitcase for clothes. Almost in sync, him and y/n strip of their clothes, tossing them into a pile with Arlo's clothes to be picked up tomorrow, and climbed into bed with Arlo.

"How's the shoulder?" y/n whispered in the darkness, reaching over Arlo to poke at the shoulder Arlo had nibbles on earlier.

"S'fine, no thanks to this little bugger." He huffed, rolling his eyes but when y/n giggled, he brought Arlo to his chest because he knows Arlo sleeps wonderfully there and he could use a good night's sleep after his first time traveling. Y/n squirmed closer to him, her and Arlo's warm skin wrapping Harry in a nice little cocoon. He fell asleep that night, not minding how hectic the day had been because he's got his family with him.

Harry wakes up to Arlo snoring in his ear, sweaty skin stuck to his chest, and y/n burrowed under the covers, head on his stomach. He's not really sure how she got there and he's a little worried she can't breathe so he carefully pulls her back up his torso until her head is out from under the covers.

His phone tells him it's 8 A.M. and usually he'd peel himself out of bed to start working on breakfast for his babies but he can smell sausage coming from downstairs and he knows someone else has got it covered. And because it's vacation (and snowing outside) Harry let's himself fall back into the pillows, joining Arlo in his snoring.

Marie is at the stove, switching between flipping sausage links and scrambling eggs. A quick glance around the open kitchen and living room shows that Marie is alone, and Anne is quick to take the opportunity. Noticing the loaf of bread on the counter, she clears her throat to gain Marie's attention.

"Good morning Anne," she greets, pulling a couple sausages out of the pan, sizzling as she lays them on a plate.

"Good morning," Anne responds, stepping into the kitchen. "would you like help with breakfast?"

"Oh," Marie gasps, and Anne's a little offended at the surprise in her tone but she supposes she deserves it. "sure. We need to get some toast done."

Anne busies herself with popping bread in the toaster, watching Marie out of the corner of her eye as she scoops a pile of eggs onto a plate and moves to finish the sausage.

"Marie?"

"Yes?"

Anne sets down the piece of toast she was buttering, lacing her fingers together to keep them from fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of Harry."

Marie stills at her words, turning around to face Anne with a quirked eyebrow. Anne smiles nervously, "He wasn't your son to care for and yet, you still did. You've done so much more for him than I ever could and I'm so grateful for it.

"I have a feeling he wouldn't be the man he is today if it weren't for you and your family, and I'm just so unbelievably lucky that you saved him from my mistakes."

Marie looks Anne up and down, lips pursed off to the left in that same way y/n's do. After a beat of silence, Marie responds. "I wasn't a fan of Harry when he first came around. He was always suspiciously quiet, and twitchy, and he always had these random injuries-this was before I knew he was a boxer-but I knew he was a good man. And I knew he was a broken child. Every mother can recognize a hurt kid.

"Don't thank me for accepting and loving Harry. Thank y/n for turning him into someone who is open to accepting love. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have stuck around anywhere."

Anne is speechless. She knows that y/n is the godsend that saved her boy. She knows that y/n is the person to thank for taking care of him. But it didn't feel right not thanking Marie, who obviously means a great deal to Harry.

Marie smirks at the look on Anne's face (no doubt it's a clueless one), clearly amused. She uncrosses her arms, crossing the kitchen to Anne and enveloping her in a hug. Anne, stiffly, hugs her back.

"We all make mistakes. Don't be too hard yourself, he's been taken care of."

The fire crackles and pops, spewing out little glowing specks of wood. Charlie jumps at the loud noise, elbowing Lacy who's sat at the table next to him, sending a messy line of red frosting across her green Christmas tree cookie. She gasps, glaring at Charlie who just stares back wide-eyed.

"Uncle Harry!" She whines, picking up her messy cookie and climbing off the chair. Harry tries not to smile at how cute she is, leaning forward as she pads over in a Hello Kitty onesie.

"What's wrong moppet?"

She holds out her cookie to him, bottom lip trembling with either sadness or anger. "Charlie made my cookie for Santa messy."

"Oh no," he gasps, pretending he didn't just see Charlie accidentally bump her. "well that won't do. That's ok, we'll fix it, yeah?"

He takes the cookie in one hand, wrapping the other around Lacy and lifting her as he stands. She slinks her little arms around his neck, still pouting at her cookie.

"Oh no," y/n coos, stopping in her tracks as she takes in Lacy teary eyes. "why the long face?"

"Look at my cookie auntie!"

Harry chuckles, holding the cookie out of for y/n to see. Compared to the rest of the jagged and splotchy frosting Lacy piled on, she can't really tell which part of the decorations isn't supposed to be there. Either way she pouts, "good thing Uncle Harry can fix it huh?"

Lacy nods, letting Harry place her at the table. He sits with her, looking up through his eyelashes when y/n places his tea mug on the table next to him. "Thanks darling," he murmurs, grinning when she lays a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to peck his forehead, swollen stomach brushing against his arm. She hums a 'mhm' in return, groaning softly as she falls into the dining table chair next to Charlie.

"Okay?" Harry asks, using his pinky finger to scrape off the line of frosting. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips, too concentrated to look up at y/n.

"Feet hurt, but I'm okay."

Finishing up his uncle duties, he offers her a sympathetic smile while she opens a blue tube of sprinkles for Charlie. He makes a mental note to massage her feet for her before bed, and then he's presenting Lacy with her cookie. "Ta-da!"

She squeals, bouncing in her seat as she eagerly grabs more sprinkles off the glass table. Harry climbs up from his seat, moving to the other side so he can sit right next to y/n. She finishes setting up Charlie with another cookie, placing his finished one on the tray for Santa.

"Come here darling," Harry requests softly, reaching out for her. Greedily but tenderly, he pulls her between his parted thighs, sitting her on his lap. He holds her hip, cradling her back in the crook of his elbow, while his other hand comes to rest on her belly.

"Havin' fun babysitting?" She murmurs, running her hand up his chest and twirling her fingers through his hair.

"Always love taking care of kids with ya. S'why m'planning on raising a bunch with ya."

She giggles at his smirk, rolling her eyes playfully. He had whined about not having alone time earlier when y/n offered for them to stay back at the cabin and babysit while the others went bar hopping. Apparently, Harry has no recollection of that happening.

"We'll have ours here next year." She whispers as if it's a secret that they're expecting their son in two months. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, holding back the beaming smile that had started to take over her face. Harry shakes his head, rubbing his nose against hers so she'll release her lip. She does, pressing a smiling kiss against his lips.

"Gonna spoil the fuck outta him for Christmas, aren't we?"

"Language!" She harshly whispers, lips still upturned. He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. If Charlie or Lacy had heard, they'd definitely be screaming at him for being naughty. "But yes we are."

Harry sighs, heart flipping excitedly. Their son has no idea he's being born into such an amazing family.

Turns out, Arlo is not a fan of vacationing or the snow. It's not his first time being in the snow, back home they get snow all the way through March, but he had never been bundled up in a little green snowsuit and his Packers beanie, and taken out to play in it.

Maybe the higher altitude was hitting him like it hits Harry, since both of them seemed to drag through the week with swollen eyes and sleepy pouts, needing at least one nap a day or they'll get too grumpy to handle and y/n will send them to bed with warm milk.

Whatever it was, he was absolutely not having it with the snow. No matter how many layers Harry wrapped him in or how many times he held him to his chest while they slid down the hill on a sled, he would cry and cry, tugging on Harry's necklace or scarf until Harry would zip him up in his jacket. That seemed to be the only place he liked to be. Warm and snuggly against Harry's chest, little arms slinking under his sweater.

"Someone's not too happy to be out here." Chloe pouts, reaching between the gap in Harry's coat to stroke a gloved finger against his cheek. Arlo huffs, turning his head the other way so he's hiding in Harry's arm. He sighs, adjusting Arlo's beanie so his ears stay warm.

"He's been pretty grumpy the whole week. Bit the hell out of me on our flight."

Chloe chuckles knowingly, nudging his elbow. She nods over to the hill where the others are sledding. "Think those two are having enough fun for him."

Y/n and Louis are squished on the kids sled, sliding down the hill and over the small ramp they made of packed snow. They reach the bottom, y/n throwing Louis off her lap and he immediately sprints (more like waddles) back up the hill, even pushing over Charlie and Lacy as he goes.

"Louis Tomlinson!" Chloe scolds, glaring at him when he gives her those same innocent doe eyes and tiny smirk y/n uses on Harry.

They stay outside for a bit more, Harry still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that the little Grinch in his arms is the child of the Buddy The Elf that's enjoying sledding far more than any adult he knows.

When they do decide to head back inside, the rest of the family is working on grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch with tomato soup to warm the kiddies (and y/n and Louis). Harry takes Arlo upstairs, starting a warm shower for them and y/n joins, clinging to Harry's naked body the same way Arlo is, giggling as she rubs her cold nose against his shoulder.

They take turns holding Arlo while the other washes up, and Harry does his best to wash Arlo but the little one is practically plastered to his chest, pressing his left cheek strongly against his chest as if he's trying to press himself physically inside his heart. By the time they get out, Arlo's drowsy in Harry's arms, only needing a little rocking to get to sleep. They leave him in the bed upstairs with the baby monitor on, heading downstairs for food.

Arlo sleeps longer than they usually let him, but with how cranky he's been they want him to get his rest. Maybe he'll wake up a happy baby. Steve and Louis invite Harry to go to town for a drink or two, since last year he had to stay home with y/n. She pouted at not being able to go, and when Louis jokingly said "maybe next time you'll tell your husband to wrap it up" she had thrown a couch pillow at him. Even so, she told Harry to go and that she'd be fine with the girls. So he left, kissing y/n on the mouth twice and waving buy to Anne, Gemma, and the kids who were watching a movie, hoping they have ad much fun together as him and the boys.

Harry shouldn't have gone out. He did have fun, it's been awhile since he got to spend time with just Louis and Steve, but if he knew the mess he'd be coming home to, he would've declined the invitation.

Kicking snow off his boots, Harry pushes open the front door, expecting to be greeted by Christmas music or laughs or maybe Arlo snoring on the couch where he'd be cuddled up with his mumma. Instead, they're greeted with the frowns of Charlie and Lacy in the living room, trying to play games but the wall shaking cries of Arlo are interrupting them. Harry steps inside, frowning as the thumps of his heart gradually increase because that's not just a grumpy cry coming from his baby, that's a cry of pain.

He kicks off his boots, finding y/n and Chloe in the kitchen where Arlo's wails are coming from. There's a small break in his screaming, one in which the most heart-shattering, longing cry of "dada" sounds throughout the room, Arlo's little voice scratchy and broken. Harry rushes forward, air knocked out of him from the sound of Arlo crying for him.

"What'sa matter?" Harry says, leaning over Chloe to see what's wrong with Arlo. Y/n has him in the crook of her arm, rubbing his tummy soothingly as Chloe holds uncooked potato slices to his forehead. He's still wailing, trying to turn away from Chloe but y/n has him held down.

"He's got a fever." Y/n says sadly, not looking away from Arlo. He recognizes the furrow between her eyebrows and the defeated tone in her voice. She'd usually get like that after long nights of them being unable to calm down a colicky Arlo.

Arlo's crying eyes find his, immediately reaching his arms out towards Harry. "Dada," he whimpers, squirming in y/n's hold. Chloe takes the potato off his forehead, moving away so Harry can step in. He takes Arlo, bringing him to his chest like he had done earlier when they were outside. Arlo presses his splotchy cheek over Harry's heart, fingers fisting his shirt. Y/n takes the raw potatoes from Chloe, thanking her for her help. She doesn't place them back on Arlo's forehead, giving him a bit to just be held by Harry. He's been crying for him for about a half hour now.

"Mum's trying to find a heating pad for him," she murmurs, pressing the back of her hand to his cheek. "thinks he's got an ear infection. Ya know how planes are, and then being in the cold."

Harry nods, laying his cheek on top of Arlo's head. One of his little hands reaches up, fingers splaying across Harry's cold cheek and rubbing through the scruff he's let grow out. Arlo's quieted down now, occasionally hiccuping through his random whispers of "dada." Harry can't help but warm up every time Arlo says his name, as if he's reminding himself that it's his father that's holding him.

"Should've known," Harry whispers, realizing that Arlo's odd behavior lately was because he wasn't feeling well. He always gets insanely clingy to Harry when he's ill, but Harry hadn't thought much of it. If he had known, he wouldn't have had him outside all day today.

"It wasn't your fault Harry. We both missed it."

"If I had paid more attention I would have been able to stop it before he got this bad."

Y/n strokes her fingers through his hair. "You're not always going to be able to prevent everything Harry. Our babies are going to get sick, and hurt, and make mistakes but it'll all be okay. As long as you're there to hold them, you'll have done your job."

Arlo rubs his left cheek back and forth on Harry's chest, patting his cheek softly as if he's telling him that y/n is right. Harry kisses the top of Arlo's head, bringing a hand up to cover Arlo's right ear because he's realized that the ear against his chest is the one Arlo's trying to make feel better by squishing into him. Harry's not sure how it helps, but if Arlo's happy with him, he's not going to risk changing that.

#sweet as honey #sah11 #chapter 11 #dad harry styles #harry styles au #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #daddy harry styles #husband harry styles #husband harry

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general-mahamatra · 4 years

Text

Geminus (Chapter 1)

Genre: Medieval/Modern Fantasy mix

TW: Stalker themes

Wordcount: 4079

Read it on AO3 here

Note: ARG!Wilbur AU but... with my own take. Kinda inspired by the Hunger Games :)

In a world mixed with medieval fantasy and modern fantasy, it’s easy for things to go awry under everyone’s radars. Especially when the tournament master, Wilbur Soot, gets replaced by a nearly perfect carbon copy of himself. After all, what can someone do if they don’t even know a doppelganger exists? Not much.

Though... what would happen if someone was a bit more knowledgeable than the doppelganger thought? Or, say, a pair?

Waking up in the middle of the night was a common occurrence for Wilbur. It wasn’t for any particular reason, it was just… normal. Fall asleep hours into the night, wake up a while later, then pass out just before sunrise only to be forced awake not too soon after he closed his eyes. But he really didn’t mind, not in the slightest. Those hours where he sat hunched over his desk, computer screen reflecting off his glasses and glaring at his tired eyes were his most productive.

No wonder coffee and energy drinks quickly became his best friends.

He had no time to focus on his own projects during the day. Between Tommy’s tournaments and training sessions, Techno’s exploration, and making sure they had food on the table every day, personal time wasn’t an option for Wilbur. Not that he cared too much about that. He’d do anything for his brothers to make sure they lived their best lives.

They all had ambitions but when Phil left one day… got Wilbur up in the middle of the night and explained what was going on… the curly haired Brit made the decision to put his goals to the side to support his brothers. And he would do it over and over again at the drop of a dime.

Staring at the screen, Wilbur rested his cheek against his fist. Eyelids heavy, he could barely keep his focus on the tiny words. They faded in and out, letters merging together and becoming incoherent. When his head began to fall forward, he jolted upright, running his hand through his hair as he blinked away the bleariness.

His eyes were sore and his head was pounding. Like a jackhammer against his skull, making him groan and press his hand against his forehead. God knows how long he had been working on the piece, let alone how long he zoned out. With a deep breath he sat back in the chair, pulling his feet up to wrap his arms around his legs.

Reading over what he wrote, he sighed. Disappointment mixed with exhaustion and he closed his eyes. Pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to pull out his guitar, try the words with the cords… but everyone was sleeping.

The one night he wanted to practice is the one night he had to be quiet.

Opening his eyes, he leaned forward and closed the laptop. Other than the slim strips of moonlight that filtered through the blinds, the room was swept into darkness. Wilbur sat there for a while, blind, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light.

The glimpse of a piece of paper catches his attention. Curious, he picks the small note up, unfolding the lined paper. For a few moments, he squints at the scrawled writing, a small frown tugging at his lips. It was too difficult to read.

So, he got to his feet and grabbed his glasses. Slipping them on, he approached the window and held the note under the light. He had no recollection of writing anything down for the last few days--at least, not that he kept at his desk. But the all-too-familiar handwriting said otherwise. It was his own; something he wrote and probably forgot about.

You work so hard at night, maybe you should stop straining your eyes. It ruins your pretty face. I’m sure neither of us want that.

Wilbur found himself unable to look away from the note. A look of horror covers his face as his hands shake ever so slightly. All sense of fatigue is gone, replaced by the need to run. Hide. Get away.

He crumpled the note and looked up. His heart raced, dread drowning out any previous thought he may have had. At some point, it was there. It was in the same room as him watching him work. Wrote the note and set it by the laptop without Wilbur noticing. Because it wasn’t there when the Brit got up.

When he couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, he cautiously looked down at his fist. Uncurled his fingers, watched the paper unravel just a bit.

A creaking floorboard makes his head shoot up. Heart rate quickened at the snap of a finger and he watched, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

Footsteps.

He spun around, wide eyes glued on the door across the room. Obscured by shadows, form blurry in the blackness of the bedroom. A thin, dim light can barely be made out through the crack under the door. Paler than the moonlight, most likely a trick of the eye.

His eyes were trained on the light, only occasionally glancing up at the knob to see if anyone would open the door. Seconds tick by, feeling like neverending minutes trudging by as slow as possible. It was agonizing.

The handle turned with a click and Wilbur froze. Stared at the door, watched it swing open and watched a shrouded figure stride into the room. Their hand trailed behind on the knob, slipping off once the stranger was fully in the bedroom. The glint of moonlight from the cracked window blinds lands on the strangers face, reflecting from their eyes and highlighting the white teeth of their sly smile.

“Who the hell-”

Wilbur’s voice fell short the moment he made eye contact with the stranger. Locked into a staring contest, words refusing to come out. He went quiet, lips partially parted as a stillness came over him. Every muscle in his body seemed to lock up, the brit’s only movements the rise and fall of his chest and the natural sway of his body. He watched the stranger approach, breath catching in his throat and his fingers twitch… the only sign of him trying to move.

The stranger slowly advanced, grin only growing as their face became illuminated by the moonlight.

It took Wilbur a moment to process what he saw. A familiar face. Curly brown hair partially covered by a crimson beanie and keen hazelnut eyes were the first features he took in. And then the barely tanned skin and stature to perfectly match his own…

An exact carbon copy.

“Look at you,” the copy purred, leaning in close, its voice disorientating for Wilbur to hear. Set his nerves on edge and made him internally cringe. Like listening to a recording of himself… only he never said those words.

A cold hand pressed against the side of his face, the copy’s thumb caressing Wilbur's cheek as its breath hitched. It stayed like that for a moment. Unspeaking as it kept its hand in place, grin turning to a pleased smirk as its expression grew fond. “Up so late… you know that’s bad for you.” It lowered its hand, smooth fingers trailing along Wilbur’s jawline before eventually dropping entirely. It held its hand between them, palm open as the hand barely hovered over the man’s chest. Similar to a cold child to a fireplace.

He wanted to scream. Cry out and shove the copy away, force it to step back and stop touching him and ask what the hell was going on. But he couldn’t. No matter what he tried to do, his body wouldn’t listen. It wouldn’t move.

All Wilbur could do was stand there and take it, eyes trapped and mind entranced by the copy’s gleaming gaze.

It had to be a dream. None of this could possibly be real, doppelgangers exist, yeah, but not… not like this.

Or was he hallucinating?

“Come on Wilbur! Don’t tell me I have to teach you how to take care of yourself.” It reached up, twirling a strand of the brit’s greasy hair with a seemingly disappointed huff. “It’s a shame, really, finding you like this.” It shrugged, moving its hand to Wilbur’s chest where it now tapped along his sternum. “Not like you’ll get any better anyway,” the copy said, much to Wilbur’s horror.

It’s while they stand there in silence that the copy took hold of Wilbur’s glasses, pulling the round metal frames off his face. It studied them, turning the frames in its hands before holding it up to the slits of light.

Then it placed them on its face.

The copy blinked a couple of times, squinting as its vision adjusted to the lenses. Then, it tilted its head to the side, its open-mouth smile somehow appearing calmer than before.

“Thanks for the glasses.”

With one hard punch to the jaw, Wilbur crumpled to the floor.

“Dude, Tubbo, come on!” Tommy shouted, turning around as he walked backwards, slowing his rush. “Hurry up or they’re gonna catch us!”

A shorter boy ran after Tommy, hands scrambling to get a hold of the backpack straps to keep it from bouncing all over the place as his feet slammed against the dirt road. It was heavy, stuffed with books, a laptop, and two small notebooks (one of which the corner was peeking out from the zipper Tubbo was unable to close) and was a struggle to keep from completely falling off.

“I’m sorry! You’re the one who dumped this on me!”

Once by his friend’s side, Tubbo passed off the bag. The taller one gladly took it with a laugh, slipping it on over his shoulders and tugging the straps to tighten it around his thin frame. Then, teasingly, he remarked, “you’re my sidekick! Learn to deal with it!”

Tubbo scoffed with a small chuckle as the two picked up the pace, relieved to have the weight of their haul off his shoulders.

As Tommy spun around to face the direction they were headed, he cast a quick glance back. No one was following them, not yet, but he could hear them. Shouting in the distance, inaudible as it was all muffled by the storefronts on the corner. They were a good 50 feet from the street corner before the first pursuer came into view.

Grabbing Tubbo by the sleeve, Tommy shouted, “RUN!”

And they took off.

Adrenaline pumped through their veins, pushing them to go faster than either has ever run before. With the advantage of long legs, Tommy found himself pulling ahead of his friend. It forced him to slow long enough to take Tubbo’s wrist and drag him along, much to the shorter boy’s protests.

“Get back here!” A man shouts. “You thieves! Come back here right now!”

Tommy cackled and continued to pull his friend behind him. Ducking into an alleyway, he didn’t stop, weaving through the many twists and turns that eventually led to an open street across the block.

It was far more lively. Younger children running around with a dirty ball tossing and kicking it across the street, older teens riding bikes along the center of the road, and so many others just walking around with bags of goods from grocery stores and clothing shops. An easy enough place to lose the men coming after them.

With a quick glance either way, Tommy darted across the street, Tubbo in tow. His target was yet another alleyway, this one a bit more shrouded by the hustle and bustle of pedestrians than the one they left. Straight into the dim lighting and around another corner, narrowly dodging large dumpsters and a stray cat that darted across their path.

After yet another turn, Tommy came to a stop next to a dumpster. Ducking down behind it, he motioned for Tubbo to join him as he took the bag off.

Both of them were breathing heavily. Tommy practically panting as he struggled to unzip the backpack and Tubbo keeled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” Tubbo wheezed, lifting his head so he could look at the younger boy. “Why are you so fucking fast?!”

Tommy chuckled. He waited to respond until he finally got the zipper unstuck and practically ripped the bag open. “Because unlike you, I actually did well on the pacer test!” he proclaimed as he scrambled to catch the small notebook before it hit the trash-covered ground. He then grinned up at his friend. “I got a fucking 83. Fucking try me, bitch.”

The shorter boy giggled lightly as he kneeled down next to his friend. While Tommy was going through the notebook, Tubbo dug around the backpack to get ahold of the laptop. “You’re lucky I have a charger for this thing at home,” he remarked, flipping the lid open. “This thing’s probably barely charged knowing them.”

Tommy hummed in response as he thumbed through the pages. Each one was covered in scrawled writing. A mix of cursive and print, both messing and intricate at the same time in a way Tommy didn’t even know what possible. Granted, it was almost as ineligible as his own chicken scratch.

Along with the writing was a bunch of diagrams hastily sketched out in ink and pencil alike. Extra pages were taped and stapled in here and there and some areas looked like pages had been ripped out. Jagged corners stuck out where papers were just shoved into the notebook and the cover was worn to the point of nearly falling off.

“This is so weird,” he said, turning a page. “Who has the time to write this much and draw all this shit? Like-” Tommy held the notebook up so Tubbo could see, pointing at a diagram of what looked like a tall, spindly, bipedal creature. Everything was scribbled in with the familiar texture of a scratchy ballpoint pen except for its eyes which were small, beady, and red. “Who?”

Tubbo glanced up from the bright screen to look at what he was being shown. His eyebrows rose in mild surprise at the site. “The hell is that thing?”

Turning the notebook back, Tommy read, “A… zexane.” He frowned. “Fucking weird.”

“A zexane,” Tubbo repeated, gaze trailing back to the laptop. “Interesting.”

“It says here that it lives in the forest and is only active during the night,” explained Tommy, squinting slightly at the intricate handwriting. “It can mimic the voice or sound of anything it can hear and its presence can usually be determined by a flock of crows in the forest.” He flipped the page again. “Who has the time?”

“Someone does,” Tubbo said absentmindedly, fingers tapping away on the keyboard. How the boy was able to do as much as he can was beyond Tommy. Oftentimes he would sit there and stare at Tubbo’s work, simply awed but what he’s capable of.

Now was one of those times..

Tommy shuffled over, closing the notebook over his thumb to keep his place. His blue eyes settled on the bright screen as he watched Tubbo sift through the files. “What are we looking for again?” he asked.

A couple moments passed before he got an answer.

“A digital version of what you’re holding right now.”

Tommy glanced down at the brown cover, gaze trailing over the weird symbol on the front. He traced his hand over it only to find that it was engraved into the leather. “Does it have anything to do with this?”

“Do with what?” Tubbo looked over as the taller boy held the book so he could see. “Oh… OH!”

His attention shifted to the computer. “I think I know what that’s called.”

It doesn’t take long for a browser page full of similar symbols to take up the entire screen. Tubbo turned the laptop towards Tommy with an enthusiastic smile. “A unicursal hexagram! It’s really uncommon and really weird looking but once you know what it is, you can’t forget it.” He set the laptop down and took the notebook from Tommy. “You see the circle around it and the star in the center? That might mean it’s a symbol!”

Tommy swiped the book back and frowned slightly. He didn’t get a chance to comment on it before Tubbo continued.

The older boy pointed at the center of the star. “Look closer right there.”

Squinting, Tommy pulled the worn notebook closer to his face to get a better look at what Tubbo had shown him. At first he saw nothing, just the weathered material of the cover. That is, until he tilted the book and watched some sort of shape flicker in the sparse light.

A number.

“Seven?” The boy questioned, now placing his finger over the number. Unlike the hexagram, there was no engraving, nothing to feel to show it was there. Tilting it back away from the light, Tommy couldn’t even make out any writing.

It wasn’t there.

Tubbo once again took the book back and flipped it open. He was practically buzzing at this point, excitement taking over his original plan of searching through the computer.

“Tubbo what are you-”

“Shh.”

The shorter boy thumbed through the pages, eyes flicking across the words faster than Tommy thought possible for the boy.

Then it clicked.

Tubbo wasn’t reading.

With the frantic page turning and constant scouring, there was only one other thing that could possibly be going on because there was no way Tubbo was just looking at pictures. He was searching for something.

“Aha!” Tubbo exclaimed, slamming his hand on the book, pointing at something in the corner. He shoved it into Tommy’s face a bit too close for the younger to see. “There! Look!”

Carefully pushing the book away, Tommy examined the section Tubbo was pointing at. Weird, runic-like letters were scrawled on the side. Definitely not English.

“The fuck?”

Tommy was pretty sure the other was vibrating now.

Tubbo tapped the notebook, forcing Tommy to stay focused on the words. “It’s Batari! Tommy it’s Batari!” The only response he got was a blank expression which made Tubbo huff. Taking the book back, he started to explain. “It’s the written language of magic. It’s read the same as English but it’s magic. Tommy it’s MAGIC!”

The boy flipped through a couple more pages until he came upon a loose piece of paper, folded into quarters. Setting the book down, Tubbo unraveled the paper. The moment his eyes landed on the writing, he seemed to glow with joy. “There’s so much of it!”

And so Tommy’s curiosity was piqued. “Can you read it?”

“Not well,” Tubbo admitted. “But… It’s not… it’s not a spell or anything like the one in the book.” He picked the notebook back up and passed it off to Tommy. “Open it to the page with the Batari.” Tommy obliged and Tubbo began to compare.

“It’s different,” he finally said. “Look at this.” He pointed at the spell and then at a sentence on the ripped paper. “The structure is different, so is the handwriting. Look- the spell? Words are connected and there’s extra letters to words and some are even removed. The note? It has regular grammar. Like someone was trying to write in code.”

Tommy’s eyes darted from the Batari to Tubbo. “What does it say? The stuff you can read? What is it?”

There was a moment of silence before Tubbo answered him.

“It’s a diary entry.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve EVER heard!”

Quackity flinched at the shouting and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This whole thing was so stupid. He didn’t want to be here, he never did! Yeah he ran for the seat of mayor but he didn’t actually want to deal with the whole legal side of it all. But, alas, merging his votes with Schlatt came with… repercussions.

“It’s exactly what we need to do!” a deep, accented voice countered. “It’s what the people need, how the fuck is it dumb?”

A hand slammed on a table followed by the sound of a chair sliding on a hardwood floor. “I don’t care, Eret. You’re not the one in charge here, it's not your decision.” Schlatt snarled. “This is my city, not yours. You simply work for me. And I say that is the worst thing I have ever heard.”

“But we need the land!” Eret exclaimed. Upon opening his eyes, Quackity came to find the tall man standing as well just across the table. “We need to be able to farm, we can’t farm without that land!”

“We import everything, we don’t need to start making our own fucking food.”

Eret pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. An attempt to calm down. “Schlatt, we don’t export anything. How are we supposed to sustain ourselves when all we have is the tournament?” They were the only one who could keep their cool around Schlatt. Something Quackity dearly wished he had. “Listen. Our economy is failing, we need to do something to boost it during the months we don’t have the tournament or soon enough we will fail and the tournament will be taken away. What will you do then?”

Schlatt glared at the tall man, stance unwavering. Though silent, he was still imposing, hard stare, something Quackity never wanted to be on the receiving end of. If looks could kill… Eret would be no better than dead.

The other took the silence as an answer.

“We’re nothing without the tournament right now,” Eret continued, gently placing his hands on the table. “We need to change that as soon as possible if we want to stay significant! Because who knows what happens if the next tournament master is born hundreds of miles away?! If we aren’t established as the regional capital, we won’t matter anymore!”

Schlatt scoffed in response, turning away from Eret for a moment. “God, Alister, you’re so fucking dumb.” The use of their real name made Eret freeze. Finally turning back to them, Schlatt continued. “We won’t have a new tournament master for decades. He’s not gonna die any time soon, you’re so fucking stupid.”

There was a flash of anger in Eret’s eyes joined by the barely noticeable flicker of a glow… a sign that their magic was just below the surface. Despite their clenched fists now pressed against the table, they kept a steady, diplomatic tone. “We don’t know that. Anything could-”

“Wilbur sits on his fucking ass in front of his computer whenever he’s not out with Techno, nothing bad is gonna happen to him anytime soon,” Schlatt snapped, easily cutting the other off.

“We don’t know that,” repeated Eret. “We don’t know each and every detail that could lead to something happening to Wilbur. He’s a target, Schlatt, you know that!”

Schlatt’s face twisted to one of confusion and disbelief. “Who the fuck would target the fucking tournament master?”

“Someone who’s mad at the results,” Eret delineated matter-of-factly.

Quackity stood before Schlatt could say anything, placing his hand in front of the man as one would do to hold someone back. “You guys really need to shut up holy crap.” Schlatt swatted his hand away and Quackity shook it out, begrudgingly bringing it to his chest while mumbling a small “ow”. He then continued. “You’re acting like two old women fighting over if they should spend money on yarn or fabric in the middle of a fucking Joanne’s. Put your granny diapers on and sit back down oh my God.”

That earned him a swat on the back of the head from Schlatt.

“Hey!” he whined, rubbing the back of his head. “The fuck was that for? I’m not wrong! You’re literally two overgrown diabetes babies. You should really rest your legs before you fall down the stairs on the way out!”

Next thing he knew he was being grabbed by the ear and dragged away from the table. “Ow, ow, hey! C’mon man I’m sorry let g- ow!” The shorter boy stumbled after Schlatt, tripping over his own feet as he was rendered off balance. “Schlatt!”

Eret was giggling off to the side, finding far too much enjoyment in this.

“The only reason you’re here is because you legally have to be,” Schlatt snarled, pulling Quackity closer. “You’re supposed to sit there and be a witness, not act like some idiotic child who finds penis jokes funny.”

“Puta,” Quackity mumbled.

“Alexis.”

Quackity laughed nervously, eyes almost as wide as his nervous smile. “Haha, yeah! Yeah I get you big man! Mr. Mayor guy! Big ol’ Mr. Man!”

That seemed to be enough for Schlatt, the taller man letting Quackity go and immediately turning back to the table. Left Quackity standing there, pouting as he held the side of his face.

This was going to be a long evening.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #quackity #jschlatt #eret #arg wilbur #wilbur soot arg #fanfic #dream smp #dream smp rpf #tw stalker #cw jschlatt

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Text

Okay (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst; General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle, with an alternate ending.

Author’s Note: This is Part III of the "Already Here" series with an alternate, very angsty, ending. If you want the happy ending... this is not it 😅 The happy ending can be found here. Thank you to @choiceskatie for helping me bounce ideas and pre-reading!! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test… or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She continues to stare at him silently.

“I didn’t mean it, I—"

She gives a dry laugh. “Oh, come on. Surely you know that phrase not only disregards your behavior, but also dismisses the pain it has caused.”

He shakes his head in disagreement and opens his mouth to refute when she removes her wrist from his hold.

“Ethan, you have always been brutally honest. With interns when they’ve made a mistake, pharmaceutical reps when they’re trying to schmooze you, and with me, concerning the nature of our relationship. So I believe you. I believe that you know you’ve hurt me. I believe that you’re sorry. I believe that you want to make things right.”

He’s unsure of where she’s going with this and his palms are sweaty from the anticipation.

“But I also believed you the other night. Why wouldn’t I when you’ve never shied away from delivering the truth? No matter how painful.”

Her voice gets smaller at the end of her statement.

“But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You are honest to a fault and that’s wounded me more times than I can count anymore.”

His breathing is shallow, heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“There is a grain of truth in every joke, Ethan, and although I know you weren't joking that night, the sentiment still stands: we mean what we say."

"I made a grave error that night, but I'm here now.” He takes a step towards her. “I ran through the airport to find you before you left and I'm here, in front of you, and I mean it when I say that I want you to stay." His eyes are pleading with her.

"What would you have done? If I had chased you through the airport when you left for the Amazon? Would you still have abandoned me?* Abandoned us?"

His jaw goes slack at her challenge. He wills himself to speak, say anything, but his mouth is dry. Overflowing with guilt, he looks away.

She was sure her heart couldn’t break any further, but it splinters just a bit more at his silence.

She nods in resignation.

"I thought so," she whispers.

She takes a shuddering breath, steeling herself for what she is about to say next.

“It’s clear now, Ethan. I respect you and your feelings, but it’s obvious the same can’t be said for you about me. I keep waiting and hoping that someday, you’ll give me the same effort I have given to you, to us. But I am so exhausted from getting my hopes up, only to have them crash back down each and every time. I fell for you, slowly at first, then all at once. But each time that I fell a bit further, the cuts got deeper, and you were never there to pick or patch me up until the scars had already formed."

He's panicking now, eyes frantically searching her face.

She sighs. "I just… I am always the one getting my heart ripped out. Down this road? I won't survive." She shakes her head. "I can't do it anymore."

Tears are pooling in his eyes. No. No no no.

"I can't do this," she motions between them, "anymore."

The intercom sputters to life. "This is the final boarding call for flight 936 to Kansas City."

She grabs her suitcase.

"Serena," he places his hand on top of hers, momentarily stopping her. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave us," his voice breaks and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

She shakes her head slowly. "There is no us. Not anymore."

She moves her hand and suitcase out from under his, and turns around, showing her plane ticket to be scanned. Ethan watches her disappear down the jetway, with a single tear sliding down his face, as he's left standing there, alone.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: Huge thank you to @choiceskatie for this line!!!

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